It being Sunday, the city was quiet when I woke up on 3rd March. I had a typical Buenos Aires breakfast of “cafe con leche y media lunas” (milky coffee and croissants). Initially I taken a dim view of the rather simple Argentinean breakfasts, since I missed the eggs that are common in Chile. I have to admit, however, that sitting outside a café in Buenos Aires, being served freshly baked media lunas and delicious italian coffee, while watching the city come to life around me, was an experience that I was getting used to.

I had been invited for lunch at Marcela’s house in Adrogué, about 25 km from the centre. On the way to get the bus that Marcela had told me to get, I happened to meet Klaus, the South African I had last seen in Puerto Natales in Chile. The bus took most of an hour to reach Adrogué and I passed through a variety of richer and poorer areas on the way. I walked to the address Marcela had given me, and after working out which gate to go in (the house is on a corner and hidden by what appeared to me to be a small rainforest) I was greeted by the whole family including Silvina. Their Mother is a delight, and speaks near perfect English.

Lunch soon followed, then Marcela, Silvina and I went for a walking tour of the pleasant cobbled streets of Adrogué. It is a middle class area, and felt safe, but most of the houses have defenses of some sort, like bars on the windows and doors. After a drink in the centre of Adrogué we headed back to the house for pizza. Mid evening I was given a ride in the Renault 6 to the bus stop and thus got a rather crowded bus back to the centre of the city.

My final day in Latin America, 4th March, started with a sleep in, which suddenly came to an end when I remembered that in Argentina the hotel checkout time is the ridiculously early hour of 10 am. I walked to the Aerolineas Argentinas office to reconfirm my flight, and then walked to the series of green plazas on the north end of the microcentro. This included a plaza which contains a British-style clock tower, called Torre de los Ingleses (Tower of the English). It was gifted by the British community to celebrate 100 years of Argentinean independence. The surrounding plaza used to be called Plaza Británica, until recent events made that name rather unpopular.

Nearby was a tastefully-designed war memorial with the names of all those who lost their lives in the South Atlantic conflict. Along the south side of the 3 plazas were the most modern and flashy high rise buildings I had seen since leaving Houston.

From the plazas I wandered up to, and along, what claims to be the world’s widest street – 9 de Julio. This actually consists of 4 well-separated streets, 2 in each direction, so it depends what you mean by “widest street”. In the middle of it all is the iconic obelisk, built to celebrate 400 years since the city was founded.

From the obelisk, I wandered down to the nearby Sheraton Hotel to have a farewell lunch with Marcela. I then checked the post office again for any poste restante mail, but there was nothing. I couldn’t help thinking that something was wrong, since there are several people who are making the effort to write to me at every poste restante pickup, and no letters from any of them have reached Buenos Aires.

I wrote some final postcards sitting in a nearby café, posted them and then wandered back up Avenida Corrientes to take a final photo of the obelisk in the late afternoon sun.

Then it was time to head for a different continent! I fetched my backpack from the Hotel O’Rei storage room, and got the bus out to Ezeiza International Airport. I produced what was only the second of my round the world tickets, and checked in.

Given how far I already was from home, and that I was heading out over the Antarctic to a point that was twice as far from home, I had somehow expected the check-in to be a lot more complicated than normal, but of course it wasn’t. A rugby team was checking in at the same time – given that both Argentina and New Zealand are strong rugby-playing countries, this flight must get its fair share of rugby players.

All too soon I found myself sitting in a red leather seat – number 34A – on an Aerolineas Argentinas jumbo jet. It all felt a little surreal. I have become so used to Latin America that it’s quite a shock to be suddenly leaving. It’s only tolerable because I’ve promised myself that someday, somehow, I’ll figure out a way to return to this continent…