"A donde van?" the taxi driver asked us as we hopped in fresh from another Nip Tuck Tuesday at Jackie's.
"A la playa!" said Clara. I laughed. We live in Buenos Aires for the love of Jesus, and I have to work tomorrow. The she turned to me, that big wide Clara grin on her face, and asked me: "Can't you feel it?" I shrugged - what? "That summer air." And then I got it, that hint of summer and racing through taxis in Buenos Aires on hot, urban nights. And I got palpitations of excitement and flashbacks all at once. Winter is on the way out here in the Southern Hemisphere, where July and August mean cold and indoors, and Christmas time is hot and sticky. And this is something I love about here that's different to home. Summer nights. Hot, summer nights in a big, sprawling city that's bubbling all night. And it delights me to note how my own inner seasons have started adjusting themselves to this upside down place. How November has lost its greyness and short days, and become my favourite month of the year, vibrant and colourful and hints of what's to come. And how September has lost its back-to-schoolness and instead becomes the month of promise, of spring time, of paving the way towards sweet, sticky heat and holidays.
