The taxi drove us under the giant plane trees to the airport. We are sad to leave this beautiful city. Above the rolling vineyards the Andes climb higher and higher. The tallest of all, highest mountain in the Western Hemisphere, Aconcagua, lifts her snow capped peaks above the valley floor. We board the Airbus 320 and fly over the Pampas, flat, hot, fertile across a thousand miles of farmland, cattle grazing land, to the city of good air, Buenos Aires.
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