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A Sunday in San Telmo | Correr Es Mi Destino
The trip from Santiago to Buenos Aires was smooth but long. On paper, it's only a two-hour flight. In real life, it's an endless series of small steps, each bringing you closer to the destination: packing, checking out, taking a bus to the airport, checking in the backpacks and getting the boarding passes, going through security and getting the Chilean exit stamp, taking off and landing, going through immigration, picking up the backpacks, going through customs, taking a taxi to the hotel and checking in. All this took most of the day and by the time we stepped into the hotel room in Buenos Aires centro, a couple of blocks from the obelisk, it was already 5 p.m. I wasn't freaking out, though, because 5 p.m. is merely early afternoon in Argentina—shops and restaurants stay open late. "Mommy! I want a drink!" "I hear you Mark, so do I. I want Argentinian pesos, for a start." The ATMs at the airport were all empty which is somewhat normal and expected in Argentina. We paid the taxi in US$