Unsuccessful, pointless, wasted… how many would categorize how I spent this lovely monday in the Paris of South America.  Yet, I can’t remember the last time I was so satisfied with the events of a single day.

I left the house around one o’clock to meet a friend for lunch, but never exactly made it there. I walked to the collectivo (bus) stop a block from my apartment to pick up the 118, but of course it left as soon as I arrived.  So when the 41 pulled up, I could’ve sworn the sign said it went to Av. Luis Maria Campos, but an hour later, I am left sitting in the back of the bus, alone, with the driver instructing me to get off so he can go home. Logically, I should have been panicking, but I kind of enjoyed the bus ride.  We went through a lot of neighborhoods and different types of areas than what I had seen of the city before.  Turns out this might have been because we were no longer in Buenos Aires.  But I liked my two hours on collectivo 41, looking out the window, people watching and listening to all the songs listed alphabetically from G-H on my iPhone.  I loved it; it was strangely serene.  Maybe by most standards, my day was wasted and I didn’t see much, but i felt like i saw more today than i have in my past three weeks being here.  I think its because what I saw today was real, people’s real lives, their real pain, their monotony, whereas before most everything seems glossed over, happy, and weathly.

Even though my little detour resulted in not being able to get to my only two classes today, I felt like I learned more on my own.  Now isn’t that a dangerous thought…

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