Four days after surgery I was ready to put weight on my left leg and begin with physical therapy. My stitches were removed and now I have a few tiny “x” shaped scabs. After only a week I began walking home from physical therapy, though it took me about five minutes each block. What is difficult in the long 10 block trek from therapy to the apartment are the cracks in the sidewalk , the tree roots causing breaks in the sidewalk, cars who just wont slow down to let me cross, and the lack of ramps for folks on wheelchairs and hop-a-longs like myself. The ones that do exist are steep or slippery. This makes me yearn for the days when I didn’t have to negotiate with the sidewalk. Sometimes Hernan carries me when crossing streets with heavy traffic, because the folks of Cordoba don’t stop for anything, especially in the mornings. The Cordobeses tend to have a more slow and relaxed way of going about their daily lives compared to the Porteños, but maybe if they put down their mate once in a while they wouldn’t have to be in a rush to drive to work on time. I get a lot of stares from adults who will hold up traffic staring at my swollen knee, trying to figure out what happened while the light is green and other cars are honking at them to drive, yet couldn’t be bothered to hold a door open for me. Last week while trying to open the door to enter the supermarket, a lady came and just waited impatiently right next to me as I struggled with the heavy glass and my crutches at the same time. This couldn’t be bad karma, since I have a history with crutches and always try to be courteous and hold doors open for folks when I am able-bodied. I take this as incentive to get better quickly, because crutches are annoying, and anyway I need to be completely off them by my next appointment. I remember thinking while on a high school trip to Spain, how impossible it would be to be on crutches walking old world streets with cracks and rocks in them, and now I’m doing it.