'Another Suitcase In Another Hall' (1/2)

Easter in Buenos Aires was like the first Christmas in Bethlehem, completely overbooked. And not everything that limped was a comparison.

Beach vacation, backpacking, cycling trips, city trips, there were countless possibilities to make the most beautiful time of the year for yourself. Only the holiday traveling (whether over Pentecost, Christmas or New Year) I could never really appreciate. And exactly this lack of sense for a forward-looking travel planning in view of calendar circumstances became an organizational misfortune to me again at Easter in Buenos Aires, as already at New Year in Puerto Vallarta.

Following my habit, I always decided on about three nights in advance when choosing my hostel, partly to cushion any errors and partly to maintain flexibility for myself.

Last Monday, it painfully became clear to me that this tactic would lead to a dead end over Easter. Although I managed to cover Wednesday and Saturday nights. But there was simply no solution for Thursday and Friday night. Hotel rooms were being traded in the four-digit range on internet platforms and the leftover offers on Airbnb were not very trustworthy.

In my mind, I weighed various options: principle of hope, staying up all night, leaving for another city, or homelessness.

In addition, I felt uncertain due to an annoying cold, so I excluded extensive club visits for myself. Autumn weather, lack of sleep, temporary toothache, and three hostel changes in four days had also weakened me physically in the past few days.

On the positive side, I could only book my last hostel. The hostel understood my situation, so I could store my luggage there. I also considered the sofas in the cozy common area as Plan B. The access was just as easy with the door code.

I spent Thursday with constant walks in the city. There was even the opportunity for a nap in the afternoon sun on a park bench.

At night, I sought salvation in a Selina hostel. I was well acquainted with the chain since Mexico and I knew about the anonymity and size of the accommodations. Around 11 p.m., I discreetly made myself comfortable in the empty common and bar area, later I lay down on a bench. After 3 a.m., the receptionist finally escorted me outside. Like a clochard, I strolled leisurely through the streets and treated myself to a beer before this bar closed at 5 a.m. Somewhat rested and full of confidence in the dawn, I walked 4 km on foot to my old hostel. Buenos Aires around me woke up, only the sunrise was still waiting. It was Good Friday.

Arriving at my hostel from the previous day, I made myself comfortable on one of the sofas next to the night receptionist and slept deeply between 6:30 and 8:30 a.m. There were 24 more hours left.