Back in the Southern Hemisphere.

August 16th, 2026

Salta, Argentina

Dear Reader,

When I landed in Buenos Aires this morning, it was grey and rainy. Yesterday morning I had taken a car to Dulles where I flew to Bogota, and from there to Buenos Aires. A total of almost 18 hours of transit.

“Ay. That’s the definition of a schlep.”, said my friend Marcus.

The day before I left we’d sat on the velvet covered couches in Marcus’s living room sipping ice cold vodka out of martini glasses he’d been keeping in the freezer for the occasion.

Sometimes even a well stirred martini in the best Bar Americain in Paris doesn’t measure up to a simple vodka with three olives at the home of an old friend.

After a few hours’ layover at the airport I took the two hour flight to Salta. I slept the whole way.

The captain’s announcement that we’d soon be landing roused me from my slumber. I pulled my black silk sleep mask up on my forehead to have a look out the window.

Below were brown, dry mountains and all around were clouds, some wispy and others more like cotton which has been pulled apart.

The view as we fly into Salta.

When we landed, I noticed that the grass was brown too. It’s winter. But the sun struck its way through the clouds, and when I exited the airport the temperature was about 70 degrees.

A taxi driver helped me with my bags, and dropped me off at the apartment we rent in the centre of town. I turned the key and dragged my bags into the empty flat. Ramona did not come wiggling to greet me, and Adrien doesn’t arrive till tomorrow.

I went out to the local grocery store to get provisions: water, milk, and eggs. The café on the corner was just closing.

I had one final walk the morning of my departure. For the first time I noticed a brick house on Park Avenue with a round blue plaque stating that F. Scott Fitzgerald had once lived there.

Park Avenue, Baltimore.

Tuesday we’ll go to San Martín where I arranged for Inés to meet us at the house with Ramona.

More to come.

Abrazos,

Mariah