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Who remembers me being a Pariah in Argentina? Who remembers that? It is a year ago. One year.

One year ago we were stuck in Argentina, one year ago our flight was canceled 9 times, and one year ago we were repatriated through an Air France flight, long after the airport of EZE was closed. One year.

Circle of life, Recoleta Cementerio, March 2020

One year ago, a bit more, was the last time I hugged someone else then my husband and kids. Lupe, Gustavo, Patricia, Gabriel,…to name but a few. More than once. And very close. Do people in Argentina still hug? Do they still share mate? I wouldn’t know, because…

One year ago was the last time we flew an airplane. Without face mask. We knew we probably should have, but they were not available, not in Argentina, not in Belgium.

All the things that did and didn’t happen in that one year, the things we did and didn’t do, it is too much to count.
Things that were unthinkable then, are normal now. And what we took for granted then, makes us crave for and embrace now.

We are supposed to see light at the end of the tunnel, or so they say. I don’t know.

Chacarita cementerio, Buenos Aires, March 2020

We are supposed to be able to travel again soon. But where to? While we are going towards summer and opening up, the southern hemisphere is going towards winter and closing down the borders again. While the north is going to take a short summer break, the south will go through yet another storm. Vaccination doesn’t catch up with the virus, not in Europe and not in Argentina.

But well, what’s another year.

Whats another year, Johnny Logan, Eurovision song contest winner 1987, my favourite song at that time. Probably secretly in love with him.

What’s another year, Argentina…. Wait for me. I’m coming as soon as it is possible. With or without hugging, with or without sharing mate.

What’s another year.

Retiro trainstation