Buenos Aires

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I arrived in Buenos Aires with similar feeling I had towards Mendoza. I did not like it. Many people love Buenos Aires, claiming it to be the best city in the world. Perhaps it was because I was alone, a little worn out, and had just gotten off a fifteen hour bus ride; my fifth in nine days. Constantly being on the move can take its toll. There is a strange irony how in a city of more than 12 million I felt more lonely than in any other place so far. I have met people along the way, but never stayed put long enough to make any friends.

It was early in the morning when I checked into my hostel. I had few plans for my time in Buenos Aires. I wanted to take the ferry to Uruguay, but other than that I knew little about this place. At the hostel reception they were advertising the Boca Juniors versus River Plata soccer game. Apparently it was one of the biggest match ups in Argentina. It was not until Sunday, two days away, and it cost 200 USD. Screw it, I had yet to be to a soccer match in South America. This was my chance.

On Saturday I woke up early to walk to the port to board the ferry. I had glanced at a map, so I had a rough idea of how to get there. I was told I needed to be there at 7:00am, an hour prior to departure. I left at 6:30am, believing this to be enough time to walk there. I had only written down street names, nothing else. Wrong turn after wrong turn made me start to realize I would not get there by seven. I asked a policeman for directions. He told me to take a cab. I knew I was close enough to walk so I did not take his advise.

At 7:40am I saw a sign pointing me towards the port. I got there, but found nothing. A man told me I was on the wrong side of the port. I speedwalked back to where I had just been. I had to ask another person for diretctions. It was 7:54am. I was going to miss the ferry. I found the final street at 7:57am. I sprinted the last few blocks , bursting in the doors at 7:59am. I was not even the last one in line. I went through security and immigrations, and we left shortly afterwards.

The city of Colonia de Sacramento, Uruguay is a nice, quiet place. It has a historical old town section. I viewed the old town, then enjoyed a long stroll on the beaches of Uruguay. Compared to Buenos Aires this was a santuary. I reboarded the ferry wishing I had bought a one way ticket.

Sunday came, reminding me why I returned to Buenos Aires: the soccer match. Right from the moment I boarded the transfer taking us to the stadium I could feel the excitment. Lukas, the guy leading our group, gave us a pre-game talk. Most of it regarded our own safety, The Boca fans and River fans were divided to avoid violence. Lukas told us in confidence that he was a River fan. We were not to mention this because we sat in the Boca section. He could be attacked by thousands of Boca fans if they knew he was a River fan. We sat in the upper tear of the stadium, underneath where the River fans sat. Likas told us if we went closer to the field the River fans would throw things over the railing at us. This was true. Unforntunately this also meant that I could barely see the whole field.
I had a decent spot at the start. Five minutes into my arrival a fight broke out the row in front of me between two Boca fans. Apparently it was not ¨us¨ versus ¨them¨. I later got pushed out of my spot towards the back. I might have been more aggresive about keeping my spot, but I had just witnessed a fight break out over just this matter.

The atmosphere was crazy from the time we got in the half a mile long line outside the stadium all the way until we left. We arrived at the stadium almost two hours before the game started. However, there were rarely a minute of silence. The fans were constantly on their feet chanting. Although I did not have a prefernce who won it was probably a good thing that Boca won 2-0. This way everybody was happy leaving the stadium. I avoided being attacked or robbed. That is worth more than a 2-0 win in my book.

Shortly after arriving back at the hostel I shot off to the bus terminal to go to Iguazu. The first bus company I tried had no more buses for the night. At the second window I bought a ticket for the 9:00pm bus at 9:01pm. I rushed to the platform. Before I could even find my seat the bus started moving. I had just barely gotten the last bus of the night. Whew, cutting it close in Buenos Aires.

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