A relaxing day at the pool...

Let's sleep in past 5:30, we said.

Let's have a relaxing day at the spa, we said.

Let's lie by the pool and rest our weary muscles, we said.

We lied.

Sleeping in for yours truly means closing in on double digits. Sleeping in for the other two crazies means waiting until the sun has just made an appearance over the horizon. Regardless, we all met our sleep quota, had a lovely breakfast, and realized there actually are other guests staying at the hotel. We thought we were the only ones, because there is never anyone around when we are eating our meals... as in 4 a.m. for breakfast. Anyway, we heard there was an hour long trail that loops around some Indian villages and back to our hotel. "Hour" must mean something different when in a country that uses the metric system. Four hours, a gajillion miles, and innumerable hills later, we finally looped back to our hotel road. The loop hike was quite the adventure, though. Any hike that includes Teresa the cab driver driving by and honking madly at us, stopping at an Indian village and having the women try to get you to buy wooden whistles that they oh-so-kindly demonstrate on, and running from growling stray dogs equals a good time.

We walked into town for lunch and ended up making it back to the hotel around 4. This was after a detour of stopping in at a soccer tournament (perdón, I mean futbol) and lining up in the soccer tunnel. I guess that is an international post-game activity. Best relaxing day by the pool ever.

We opted for dinner in... room service and all. This was no easy feat. First, they attempt to connect you with someone that speaks English. By hanging up on you. Repeatedly. Then you get a hold of them and ask for two eggs. Then they say it's not possible. Then Tracy offers to go get the food instead. Then it takes a lineup of seven hotel employees playing a game of Argentinian Telephone, trying to relay the message of "two eggs" to the chef. Dos huevos, we know.

It all worked out, we all got fed, and all was well.

This morning we said goodbye to Iguazu and their crazy coatis with a flight back to Buenos Aires. There was a wee bit of turbulence. By wee, I mean people were confessing deep, dark secrets and telling everyone around them how much they loved them. You think they applauded on earlier flights? This one got a standing ovation.

Our hotel is in the CUTEST neighborhood of Buenos Aires, called Recoleta. It has everything you could need, right within a quarter mile radius. Supermercado for cereal and foreign country gummies, Starbucks, a bakery, and the world's most beautiful library. For real. This biblioteca was boss. I got my annual foreign country haircut (because small talk blocking language barriers are where it's at) tonight... the hombre was on a time crunch. I think I was in the chair and out before Shandon could download "Despacito" from iTunes, which is her new jam.

P.S. Our hotel has an organic garden on the rooftop, and you are free to pick what you want. So put in your orders if you want a souvenir of Swiss chard.