Since we first met in Japan, Jona has always reminisced about her time in Argentina. It was her first major international trip and she was hooked. From the streets of Buenos Aires to the beaches of Pinamar, she painted such a vivid picture that I longed to see it for myself. During our last few weeks in Europe, we decided to make the city ‒ known affectionately as BA ‒ our last stop abroad, capping eight months of travel. By the time we landed at Ezeiza Airport, we were feeling a rush of emotions; mostly bittersweet intimations that our adventure was coming to an end. Our trip from the airport to our new, temporary home in Recoleta was wistful because we knew it was the last time we would feel that now-familiar jolt of disorientation of being somewhere new; at least for the foreseeable future.

We arrived at the apartment, which was perfect for our stay, unpacked our bags in record time and settled down for an unusually long break, as we had decided to spend ten days in Argentina before flying back to the States. We stocked up at the local grocery store, found a purveyor of fine empanadas down the street in record time and binge-watched television shows ‒ Silicon Valley, West World and Wild Wild Country, in case you're curious. And then I came down with the flu.

For the next few days, I was useless and mostly bedridden. Our explorations were limited to the neighborhood, as I tired quickly. Poor Jona whiled away the hours taking care of me and finding things to keep herself busy. Nonetheless, we counted our lucky stars because this was only the second time on the trip that we'd been sick. The other, in Vietnam, was far worse. More than anything, this was an inconvenience, a forced halt to our adventure. Unfortunately, it also gave us too much time to think about the end of our trip and what we would find waiting for us, back home in the States. It took a few days, but, slowly, we managed to bring our focus back to our present surroundings and enjoy the time we still had. It didn't help that it rained for a solid week when we arrived in Buenos Aires. I'm talking monsoonal downpours. However, nothing lasts forever; towards the end of our stay, the sun came out to play and the colorful beauty of the city was dramatically revealed. This coincided nicely with the lifting of my fever.

We hit the streets of BA with a vengeance, taking in as much as we possibly could. The skies were blue, the sun showed colors that we hadn't noticed all around us and the locals seemed just as happy as us that the weather had suddenly improved. The sounds of tango filled the tourist areas of San Isidro and La Boca, couples danced for donations and hawkers set up stalls along quaint old streets. We also noted the appearance of (mostly) men walking a dozen dogs at a time. Apparently dog-walking is a popular profession in this city. The winner in our books was the guy who somehow managed to corral seventeen dogs and wield the same number of leashes at the same time. I wish I understood the logistics of the job a little better. For instance, I still don't know if it involves dog-sitting or merely dog-walking. If the latter, how do they retrieve and return the dogs to their owners? Do they have an equally impressive set of keys? If the former, where do they keep the dogs during the day? Do these men spend the whole time outdoors, being pulled in every direction by their charges? So many questions for my still-feverish brain.

While Jona was saddened by the ravages wrought by successive economic crises that devastated Argentina just months after her last visit, I could see why she had loved it so much for so many years. The country holds a special place in the global arena. It is neither wholly Latin American, nor is it really European. It is something altogether different, with its own distinct character and customs. It has an unexpectedly Basque flavor, as well as Italian influences and a German heritage. Jona looked much more like the locals than me, for a change. Yet, Argentina is also undeniably a product of its geographic location. While it is clearly different from other South American countries, it is also a proud member of that continent, blessed with incredible natural resources, like the plains of Las Pampas to the north and the Galapagos and Patagonia to the south.

While it is nearly at the edge of the world, Argentina is definitely part of the Hispanic firmament. In addition to its membership in the Spanish-speaking universe, Argentina shares that other common language with its neighbors: football. Argentinians and BA locals (known as Porteños) in particular take their football very, very seriously. It's pretty much a religion here. You either support the legendary Boca Juniors or River Plate, but everyone supports the national team. We witnessed fans on their way to a game in La Boca and we'd never seen anything quite like it. It reminded me of the scene in the seventies cult classic, The Warriors, when the title characters are on the run from a bus full of demented gang members, only these guys were waving flags and cans of beer, as their buses screamed down the street at five o'clock on a lazy Sunday afternoon.

The other thing that Argentina now has in common with its neighbors is the crushing weight of poverty. While this was once one of the richest countries in the region, its leaders have shamelessly plundered its wealth, enriching themselves and foreign corporations in the process. Jona was last here at the height of Argentina's golden age, but it all came crashing down soon after she left in 2000, devastating families and entire regions. While the buildings of Buenos Aires still pay tribute to their gilded past, decay is setting in. Old people have to resort to begging in the streets, young people worry about their future and everyone in between is anxious about the economy. During the first week of our visit alone, inflation increased by ten percent. We spotted Janet Yellen, former Chairwoman of the U.S. Federal Reserve, on our flight out of the country, where she had clearly been advising the government during this latest crisis. Despite the Argentinians' aversion to the IMF (International Monetary Fund), Argentina recently received a much-needed loan to support the economy.

While we were in a strange place ourselves, in the last few days of our months-long experience, Argentina also seemed to be doing some serious soul-searching. The people were friendly. Yet, under their elegant exteriors (they possess a natural grace), they are worried about where they are headed. For a few short days, we were glad to be there with them, walking through the sun-drenched streets, enjoying small moments of happiness in the markets above ground, in the metro below the surface and in bookshops and cafés in between. We found ourselves ‒ Jona and I, as well as the people around us ‒ wondering what the future holds in store, whether we would survive or thrive in an unknown world. But, since there's no way of knowing, we all decided to forget our worries for today and listen to one last tango for the road.