When it’s our December, it’s summer in the Australian hemisphere and Buenos Aires smells of blue Jacaranda. It’s a sweet fragrance that permeates the whole city, you can’t miss it. We only remember details of the places we visit, what’s memorable about Argentina is its inebriating smell. It’s in the city, in the countryside, up to the most remote corner of its immense land. La Pampa for example abounds of jasmines, their fragrance is everywhere and you know it immediately that you will miss it. The centuries of history and gatherings trapped in the mirrors and the warm wooden walls of the cafes in San Telmo; the close and intimate cheeks after a first encounter or a lifetime together while dancing a milonga porteña; the red meat and the full glasses of Malbec; the traffic of the capital; the ancestral relationships, the mixed memories and the fantasies that always draw back to Italy; the delicate people and their melancholic smiles. As soon as you are out of the city, the land belongs to the birds: beautiful and rapid hummingbirds that fill up the silence and the sunrise with their idyllic songs and warbles. Toads as big as fists, thin white and brown horses, cows them as well very thin, rapacious that fan their wings out in the sky and that you immediately identify as eagles although it’s probably something else, tame dogs. On the panoramic and isolated streets of the province of Salta is easier to bump into animals than people. You stop, look at them in the eyes and absorb some of their serenity. In the North West of Argentina there’s a place made of sun, pink dust and staggering altitudes. It’s green all around and you feel in harmony with nature.