So as I sit in this coffee shop, on the corner of two very European reminiscent streets, I have to ask myself: how do they do it? By 'they' I mean the Portenos of Buenos Aires, as they are so proudly called. I'm running on three hours of sleep (which brings my total for the week up to 14), too many cafe con leche's to count, and the adrenaline left over from last night's club experience. In all honestly I'm starting to wonder if I'll make it to Saturday. The life of a Portena is indeed a demanding one: The day seems to start with steaming cups of cafe, eat-some-more-ish medialunes, and of course an oversized pair of sunglasses. The streets of the city are constantly filled with people which makes me wonder how the economy functions if no one is ever at work. Dinner is always late, and never a light fare, and if you go out before 2AM you're definitely a tourist. The music is mostly techno and the lights always pulsating, which must explain the need for sunglasses on the dance floor. Perhaps it's the coffee, or the European influence, but Portenos seem to have an amazing passion for life. I could of course be mistaken, and this exuberance is nothing more than a prolonged high courtesy of your drug of choice, or the result of a caffeine trip. For me, just being here and seeing the life style is enough to keep me going until 6 in the morning for four days straight now. But for others, substance abuse definitely is an option. The blatancy of the different kinds of narcotics available to you is astounding, and you can pick up just about anything from a club. At some point, the constant barrage of guys in backpacks pedaling their wares becomes bothersome, which only leaves one of two options: partake thereof, or turn the other cheek. Is this what happens to Portenos? They burn the candle at both ends for so long that they resort to illegal substances to sustain their lifestyle? And what kind of an effect does this have on ones health? Perhaps the novelty of adrenaline wears off after a while and that innocence is replaced with crushed white powders or tiny little pills that pass quickly between hands in a dark room. Perhaps I'm being a prude and should bear in mind that this kind of overindulgent lifestyle is just that, a lifestyle. Try as I may I'm not a Portena, nor will I ever be. It's not my place to judge the lifestyle, but I know for a fact that I can't keep up with it. What I know for certain is that I'll take away from this experience the knowledge that I tried, and maybe Portenos have the right idea - you can sleep when you're dead.