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“Today I will go to La Boca." Sheila, another guest at Faena Hotel, agreed that a trip to La Boca should be a priority on my list of sites to see while in Buenos Aires. During my week long stay, I mentioned to Sheila over breakfast that I had been casually searching, while exploring the highly charged city, and no Christmas ornaments were to be found. We met in the buffet line and both shared our yen for the freshly baked buttery pastries, which we each lathered with freshly churned sweet butter and homemade peach marmalade. The croissants were lifted straight out of the clay oven each morning and perfectly perched among the bountiful breakfast items that included prosciutto, smoked salmon, boiled eggs, an assortment of olives and decanters of freshly made pineapple and orange juice . I marked the entire day for this outing. My flight home was tomorrow. I had to find a Christmas ornament to mark my time spent. Sheila shared that she had taken a short day trip to La Boca and spied several Christmas ornaments while shopping for family gifts. It has become a treasured hobby now, collecting Christmas ornaments as I traverse the globe. German Kugel, Christopher Radko and Bronner are among my collection. I picked up the phone and dialed the front desk. “Buenos Dias, Senor. How far is it to La Boca?” “Lo siento, Senorita. Today is not a good day to venture far away. There is a citywide transportation strike. Public transportation and taxi services are not running today,” said the front desk attendant. “Protestors are scattered all around the city.” “Do you have a bicycle?” I asked. “Si Senora, however I do not recommend taking a bicycle to La Boca. I cannot guarantee your safety by bicycle,” said the attendant. “I’m from Detroit,” I teased. “De donde?” asked the attendant. “I’m from Detroit,” I repeated with confidence. “It’ll be ok.” “It is a twelve-mile journey, Senora,” said the attendant. “Por favor, prepare the bike,” I said. I was greeted by the concierge, Jose, in the lobby and asked to sign a no-fault waiver releasing the hotel from any liability in the event of some unforeseen accident. She immediately reviewed the document and signed. Jose took the signed document and filed it away. “Por favor, be careful,” Jose said. “Adios.” “Hasta luego,” I said excitedly. I took the bike from its lazy lean against the wall. I looked both ways, hesitated and called back to Jose, “Donde esta La Boca?” Jose snorted and signaled to the left. “Muchas Gracias,” I replied. I straddled the bike and pushed off. As I pedaled and picked up speed, I felt the soothing, warm, humid breeze as it feathered against my sun burned skin. Today I remembered to lather on sun screen. I felt fluttering in my stomach with each push against the pedals. I was uncertain of any particular shop or even where I was headed, I knew that I would find my Christmas ornament in La Boca, even with the hotel attendant’s warning ringing in my ears. Although my Spanish was not that fluid, I possessed a decent sense of direction. Pedaling through the city streets, I wound up riding along Plaza de San Diego. I whizzed by painted structures in bright yellow, salmon and mint green and delighted in the architecture and design of the aged structures. I felt a burst of adrenaline as I picked up speed. Letting go of the handlebars, I spread open my arms like the wings on an airplane. The tires seemingly lifted off the pavement and I was airborne. Soaring over the city, I gleaned the old city gated behind ancient walls, people coddled together sipping wine, eating tapas, laughing, holding hands. A mangy dog lazily strolled along the street. Music poured from windows above the street serenading pedestrians and bystanders. The smell of roasted meats and baked pastries wafted, triggering embryonic hunger pangs. Now, I was unsure of which direction to head. I spotted La Policia wearing a brightly colored neon vest. “Donde esta La Boca?” I yelled. “A la derecho,” she yelled back and pointed. I headed to the right, to La Boca.