Love changes everything…

IMGP6745 Up until yesterday my return flight to England was booked for 7th December and rushing towards me. Every time I looked at my Argentine I saw his face fading into the distance at Ministro Pistarini, and me walking onto the plane and into six weeks including Christmas and New Year without him, and two months without Buenos Aires, without sun. If I thought hard enough I could almost feel the tears running down my face.

I left the UK on 8th March this year with a twelve month ticket, but a return date booked for 7th June. I thought I might only stay three months. Mmmmmm… After a week I knew three months would not even be long enough to work out which Milonga I liked best on a Monday night, and so I changed the ticket to 7th December – then far, far in the distance.

I have got to go back to England. I have a flat to clear ready for renting. I have a car to sell. I need to put my paperwork in order. I have to apply for a new passport, prepare documents for an Argentine visa application. On the emotional side I am longing to see my family and I have many mates to catch up with. And I have a few tangos to dance with old friends because who knows when I may get the chance to tango in England again? Originally I planned two months on British soil. But last week two months began to feel like a lifetime.

It usually takes me minutes to make any decision, but this one took me a few days, mainly because I was concerned for my family. How would they feel about me staying out here for longer, having less time with them? My mum, as always, was a total star. ‘Try and change the ticket Sal,’ she said, ‘If you can, you can and if you can’t, you can’t. Put it in the hands of the Gods.’ So I did, and they (in this case British Airways) decided that I could have ‘la Navidad’ here with my love, and New Year in England. Now I will leave Argentina on December 28th. I will have three more weeks here. I will have three weeks there to get my life in order before my Argentine flies into my arms and into the culture shock of the cost of eating out in England. My time alone at ‘home’ is now going to be very busy, with no hours free to pine for a lover. I am happy. My Argentine is delighted. My family are calmly understanding, as ever.

So that then, is my plan as of today. Someone said to me recently that people often ask him about me and my plans. He says that he usually replies that he doesn’t think even I know what my plans are. He is right. I don’t. Plans always end up changing. And the ones that don’t change on their own, I usually change. I reckon it’s just better to go with the flow, and follow your heart day to day. Maybe it seems a bit random. But this year, it’s the method that has worked for me: it took me to Mongolia, brought tango into my life, got me to Buenos Aires, put me standing next to my Argentine in La Glorieta… and now it will take me to England for five weeks instead of two months. Not a lot of difference I hear you cry. Ah but, you see, love changes hours into minutes and minutes into hours. And these days, I’m a hopeless romantic.


4 Responses

  1. Sally, I sure do hear you!
    Viva el amor!!!

  2. YAY!!

  3. Love changes molehills into mountains and mountains into molehills. That’s why evil busses become bearable in a city you love. As an unkind word becomes unbearable from a friend you love.

  4. Too true.


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