Marshmallows don't really exist in Latin America. Or rather, a market for marshmallows doesn't exist. This seems odd, taking into account this particular country's penchant for grilling over campfires; Argentina is poised for a national s'mores frenzy any day now. This being my observation, it's no wonder one of our students felt the need to have her mother ship four bags of the fluffy, white, powdery treats to Cordoba. Because there were also camera memory chips in the box, customs held the package up (hoping to tax the student for importing electronics)...so this morning Gustavo, Liv and I accompanied her to Cordoba so we could spend two hours in the customs office. For marshmallows. I hope her family likes them.
The streets of Cordoba. 
Student housing near the university. (No such thing as on-campus dorms here...)
Back in Villa Carlos Paz, a sunny afternoon on Lago San Roque. 
My new idol: Gustavo and Marcia's daughter Paloma
...and their twin daughters Carmela and Lola.
