A year and a half after moving to Tokyo, I found Buenos Aires in the shitamachi.
The working-class districts in the eastern part of the city seemed so familiar. There was something about the dirty stairs from the South Exit of Uguisudani Station that reminded me of Avenida Rivadavia on a Sunday morning. I thought of the smoke of Argentinian asado, the barbecues that we had for every holiday, when I passed the smoky yakitori place on the street. The bright lights from the love hotels in Taito Ward gave me flashbacks to Flores, the neighborhood where I grew up.
And these discoveries quickly made me feel at home.
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