By some curious fluke of my internal clock, I was up before dawn. Indeed, I was up so well before dawn that I had plenty of time to fiddle around (my favourite pastime). I fiddled with the mate, then I fiddled with the camera, then I fiddled with the tripod and eventually I fiddled with some pre-dawn photos from the balcony. Indeed I got so wrapped up in fiddling that when the bright orange arc of the sun broke the watery horizon of the Rio de la Plata, I glared at it as if it were an interloper: I had to stop doing what I was doing and take pictures of the rosy prima donna. (Of course, I was soon overtaken by the splendour of it all and forgave the sun its impertinence.)