It is jarring to return from Patagonia to Buenos Aires in January. One week I'm wearing four layers while walking on ice, the next I'm acutely aware which of my pairs of shorts is loosest and which is tightest. My body must be confused. It left summer in San Francisco for spring in Buenos Aires, had a three-week kind of winter with crazy long days, and now it's summer again. And this is a different kind of summer.
We had started hearing horror stories about January as soon as we arrived. At last, we have confirmed them—not that we really wanted to. How hot is it? I have no idea, it's all in Celsius and it's too hot to do math. I get a good enough idea of the temperature outside based on how hot the cold water runs inside. Actually, we did do the math once (or just tapped "°F" on our phones, who can remember?). It was 86°, "feels like" 91° with humidity—at 10pm.
In truth, it's not that bad, with particular sympathy to the blizzard bearers in the Northern Hemisphere right now. And we've heard that this summer is milder than in recent years. There have been quite a few tropical-style thunderstorms to extinguish the heat. Exactly 24 hours after that 91° night, we were feeling chilly in long pants at a dry and breezy 66°.
That doesn't make complaining any less fun. Coming from seasonless San Francisco, we are experiencing extremes. I can't remember the last time I had to waddle down the street in shorts, or even wear shorts for that matter. I have been spoiled. So you can imagine the relief I feel when locals say "¡que calor!", reassuring me that it's okay to name the heat.
Summer in Buenos Aires comes with its quirks. The notoriously loose sidewalk tiles always make for an interesting walking experience, but it's still surprising when stepping on one makes a splash that gets your calves wet, even when it hasn't been raining. The culprits are air conditioners, those noble makers of cool rooms. Their struggles manifest in the form of condensate, continuously dripping from buildings like an extremely low-budget water show.
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| Ooooooo. |
You know it's hot when getting dripped on actually feels good. And it's better to see these puddles on the ground than not, because it means at least there is air conditioning.
Another thing we had heard about January was that the city empties out. We figured this was an exaggeration, but it turned out to be true. It's like being in San Francisco during a month-long Burning Man. (In both cases, people return from the playa with dusty cars.) Some businesses close for the entire month—I thought only Golden Gate Bakery did that. We have yet to get fresh pasta this year!
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| We are closed on Mondays and Januarys. |
Inventory at grocery stores seems to be reduced and inconsistent as well, probably for both supply and demand reasons. Ice cream shops are, mercifully, always fully stocked.
The Buenos Aires January is actually really nice, despite the heat. There are fewer cars to dodge when crossing the street. Eating dinner outside is a pleasure without substitute. And to me, the very definition of summer is getting a white peach from the fridge, washing it in cold water that's actually warm, and feeling the fruit return to coldness.
It's been a good time for getting sun and moving slowly. January is over now; in February, it starts again.