I came to Buenos Aires feeling anonymous, knowing it was a huge city. But I go to several meetups and see the same people there. Imagine my surprise when asked where I was staying, after describing my apartment in a part of town, the Argentinian who had asked knew my landlords. Somehow I am utterly and totally predictable-and I'm not living in Palermo. This is like during the pandemic, when I thought I had the original idea to make sourdough bread, and a year in discovered half the country was doing it. I don't know where the other 29,980 Americans in Buenos Aires are, but I'll be seeing the rest of you this afternoon at Velvet.
