Eventually there comes a moment when a voice says, "Enough traveling!" and the heart turns towards home. But I would love to have brought this Buenos Aires patio with me.
Just back from Argentina.
It’s true: I’m never happier than when traveling—but eventually there comes a day when a voice inside says “Enough!” and my heart turns toward home.
This time it happened while staying at a chic townhouse hotel that was home, for a short while, in Buenos Aires. Just seven bedrooms, a relaxing patio with pretty blooms, a large and comfortable living room with art books to contemplate, Malbec to drink, and a fabulous playlist. A tiny plunge pool, if you could bear the chilly water.
Oh, there was more to love.
Like Ceci to bring you café con leche each morning and a luscious dulce de leche cake with a whooshing sparkler candle on your birthday. Champagne and kisses all around. And Joaquina to whisper the names of the ideal milonga for tango watching and a bright new shop for antique textiles.
A hotel so private that for five days, we were the only guests. Really!
But here’s the thing. The famous director’s bed wasn’t my bed. I was tired of packing and repacking my suitcases. (How ever will all those bottles of wine fit into our bags, we wondered.) And as much as I loved the fresh-caught trout eaten under the trees at Atamisque, snowcapped Andes in the background, and the caipirinhas at Cluny, I was more than ready to putter around in my own kitchen.
I’m a strange hybrid, I guess: avid world traveler with deep domestic roots. Anyway, here's what I love about coming home:
Lemon thyme and black mint sprouting in the vegetable garden, the lawn as green and lush as it will ever be. Domino, snoozing in the front hall, as if she knew we’d be walking in the door any minute. Hugs from Brenda, welcoming us back to the fold.
The wood floors glowing golden in the sunlight. A sparkling refrigerator, just waiting for a new batch of delicious ingredients (the first CSA box arrives tomorrow!) for lazy home cooking. (Think pan-seared trout, Valle de Uco-style, with tangy gremolata and olive oil mashed potatoes. Oh, and maybe panqueques with dulce de leche for dessert. Or breakfast.)
Sorting through stacks of mail. Yes, really! Along with the usual there were surprise birthday cards, a wedding invitation from Chicago, a new issue of Afar. And, most amazingly, an actual handwritten card from Jan with a clipping of “Spice Up Your Brain,” an article she wrote mentioning, ahem, yes, SpiceLines. Thanks Jan!
More pleasures: Throwing open the shutters so I could drift through the treetops while taking a luxurious afternoon bath. Putting on a freshly ironed cotton nightgown, one I haven’t seen for a few weeks. Sinking into my own bed and pulling up the soft covers. Lots of pillows. A cup of rose petal chai. A tattered Nero Wolfe mystery to re-read before my hand falls from the page and my eyelids close.
And writing you again. That’s a big pleasure—one that I’ve missed.
“There’s no place like home,” murmured Dorothy, as she clicked the heels of her ruby shoes.
I concur.
P.S. If you entered the camel cookie contest, don’t forget that Sunday, April 24th is the deadline for sending in your photos!
Comments (3)
Your hotel sounded magical with such a gorgeous patio. Welcome home, and a belated happy birthday.
Posted by Nancy | April 19, 2011 12:17 PM
Posted on April 19, 2011 12:17
Oh, it was magical--and I would certainly stay there again. The birthday cake was a breakfast surprise--the best time to indulge, I think, before your eyes are open and the diet god is fully awake! Thank you for your good wishes--a wonderful journey, but it's so good to be home.
Posted by courtenay | April 19, 2011 6:10 PM
Posted on April 19, 2011 18:10
Pan-seared trout... that sounds terrific. Looking forward to seeing photos & a recipe!
Posted by Run Fast Travel Slow | April 22, 2011 11:55 AM
Posted on April 22, 2011 11:55