What Buenos Aires Taught Me About Slowing Down

Before I went to Buenos Aires, my life in the U.S. was built on speed: classes, work, deadlines, and errands—each day felt like a race against the clock. Productivity wasn’t just a habit; it was the standard I measured myself against. The idea of “slowing down” sounded nice in theory, but in practice, it felt like falling behind.

Then came Buenos Aires.

I noticed it first in the mornings. Cafés opened when they opened—sometimes 8:30 A.M., sometimes closer to 9 A.M.—and no one seemed to mind. People lingered over coffee for hours, reading a newspaper or talking to a friend, never rushing off mid-sentence because of “the next thing.” Meals were an event, not an interruption between to-do lists. Dinners often began at 9 P.M. and stretched late into the night, punctuated by stories and laughter.

Life here wasn’t lazy—it was intentional. The city moved with its own rhythm, one that made space for connection and small pleasures. People prioritized being present rather than being busy. Even the public protests, which seemed to pop up without much warning, felt like a reminder that time wasn’t only about the individual; it was also about showing up for the collective.

Living in that rhythm changed me in ways I didn’t expect. I stopped eating lunch in front of my laptop. I learned to enjoy walks with no destination in mind. I began saying “yes” to unplanned conversations instead of rushing to keep my own schedule. And somewhere along the way, I realized I didn’t miss the constant pressure of efficiency.

Returning to the U.S., though, has been a lot more challenging than I imagined. It’s like stepping back onto a moving walkway after strolling through a quiet park. Deadlines are sharper here. Schedules are tighter. People move quickly, talk quickly, and expect you to keep up. I felt that old urge to speed up, to match the pace around me—but now, I’m more aware of what’s lost in the rush. In Buenos Aires, no one seemed to measure life by how much could be accomplished in a single day. There was space for conversation, for wandering, for simply being present. Coming back, I’ve realized how easily I slip back into the mindset that productivity equals worth.

So I’ve been holding onto the lessons Buenos Aires gave me. I still make time for slow breakfasts on weekends, even if my inbox is full. I call friends without scheduling it a week in advance. I try to notice the way sunlight hits the buildings on my walk home, instead of checking my phone at every red light. These choices may seem small, but they remind me that life isn’t just about moving forward—it’s also about noticing where you are. If Buenos Aires taught me anything, it’s that slowing down isn’t falling behind; sometimes, it’s the only way to truly keep up with yourself.

Slowing down doesn’t mean doing less—it means living more deliberately. Buenos Aires taught me that the pace you choose can change the quality of your days. And while the U.S. might not always allow for three-hour dinners, I can still carry pieces of that slower rhythm with me, wherever I am.