Happiness is...

In deciding to hunker down in Buenos Aires, I have agreed to reenter a life of frugality. No big deal as I spent 3 years living this life in New York to get me on the road. But. There were two things I knew I needed to spend some money on, and I promised myself I could have once I found a job.

All Stars. I miss my Chucks. Nothing says city life like a great pair. I have been watching all of Buenos Aires running around in their Converse,  green with envy. So when I landed a job, that was my first purchase. Aren’t they pretty?

And perhaps the most important thing (here and in life in general) – a bicycle. I’ve been scouring random bike shops in search of the perfect old-school used bici. I wanted a fixe-gear, old bici. None of that road bike fancy stuff I have in the States. A totally different bike experience. I have been picturing myself riding down the Libertador bike path on this bike, smiling in the sunshine, feeling complete. After striking out several times at the bike shops I decided to try Mercado Libre, Argentina’s version of Craigslist/Ebay. Super overwhelming. It is pretty tough to buy a bici online.

But finally, I stumbled upon a beautiful old YELLOW bike, and I fell in love. I sent a message saying I wanted to buy it, the seller agreed, and just as I was about to do so, the listing disappeared. Good thing I have been honing my super sleuthing skills at work because I found the posting under a different name, for more money. Can’t outsmart me. So I wrote another note, and we agreed that the bici was mine.

Thursday after Spanish class, I navigated collectivo land to travel to Flores to pick up my new best friend, arriving much later than I had planned, a sweaty mess after having run the last 20 blocks in excitement. And a fat Argentine answered the door and said, “did you come alone?” Ummmm. Really? Shit. That’s the first think you say to me? Should I have come alone?

“Yes. Is that the bike?”

“Yes”

He brings the bike out in front, and it’s beautiful and it’s yellow, and as it comes closer to me, it is a piece of shit. The covering on the handle bars is missing chunks of foam like this guy got hungry on a ride and decided to eat it. The bike has been painted yellow. And not like painted yellow at a detail shop in a nice way with bike paint. It’s been painted yellow with like wall paint. And when you get close it looks like Cameron painted it with her eyes closed (my 3-year-old neice).

But you know what? I loved her the moment I saw her regardless. But I’m no idiot. So here’s how I knowingly bought a shitty bike for less.  (Note: I can only assume that my Spanish was not this smooth. Sounds way better in English.)

“With all due respect, do you really think this thing is worth $320 pesos?”

“Yeah, It’s a great bike.”

“It was a great bike one day. But seriously, the paint. Is this a joke? What color did it used to be?”

“Yellow”

“Why would you paint it like this?”

“Looks better”

“Ok – well I’ll give you $250 pesos, which is generous.”

“Ok.”

How easy. And then he started trying to chat me up, at which point I just jumped on my bike and fled.

Now. Riding bicycles in Buenos Aires is dangerous. Everyone has told me so. And I always reply, “C’mon. I rode bikes in NYC for years, NBD.” But New York, with it’s share of bicycle/pedestrian/taxi problems, is pretty bike friendly. Buenos Aires it appears, has a long way to go. On my way home from the bike man I was almost run over by a bus at least 41 times. Today I will buy a helmet, and I will be careful.

As I rode my bike home on Thursday, I felt complete. Seriously. Ask Pati or my friend Jacinto. When I arrived home they were sitting in Pati’s room chatting, and I burst in, sweating buckets, grinning from ear-to-ear. I threw my belongings on the floor, then did a little I-have-a-bike victory dance as they amusedly laughed at me.

It may be a crappy bike. But it’s my crappy bike, and I’m going to love it forever.

you can't tell the paint job is bad from here. tried to show it in a photo, but it's hard to tell. but imagine a bike painted with wall paint. that's what it looks like. and i still love it.

my brother told me I'm becoming a hipster