Dodging the rain

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Having eaten dinner last night I found myself needing something to satisfy my sweet-tooth. I went into a newsagent on Thames and bought a bottle of water and two Alfajores. These small treats all differ slightly from manufacturer to manufacturer, but are essentially two biscuits sandwiched together with dulce de leche in between. The ones that I picked tasted like very short, very sweet short bread biscuits with a dusting of coconut and the rich, creamy dulce de leche at the centre...needless to say I fell in love straight away.

After a bit of a lay in this morning I decided that I would try and get to the 11am tour around congress. Having showered and eaten I walked down Thames and made a quick pitstop at an internet cafe to print out the details for my bus trip to Puerto Iguazu the next day, before catching the metro to Congreso. Unfortunately, I arrived too late to take the tour and decided instead to head off to Avenue Florida, to take in the heart of the shopping district of the city. Seeing as it was such a beautiful day I thought I'd walked down from Plaza del Congreso to Plaza San Martin, to take in more of the beautiful yet varied architecture of the city.

As I arrived in Plaza San Martin I was met by the first of the days rain. I took refuge under one of the trees in the park and waited until it had cleared a little before I ventured on. As I sheltered from the shower, I noticed the ornately designed palaces that surrounded the plaza. It was amazing that so few of these survived, yet I thought that with the cost of upkeep that it was cheaper to knock them down and start again. Once the weather cleared, I made my way up Avenue Florida, ducking into any small shopping mall or arcade that I could. The rain was annoyingly intermittent, which was making sightseeing today a bit of a drag.

The pedestrianised street was filled with all manner of shops from boutique fashion houses to tacky tourist souvenir caves, playing equally tacky cliched music. As the rain continued to hound both shoppers and traders alike, I stood and watched the poor leather pedlars cover their goods with huge tarpaulins and then run for cover themselves. Puddle dodging in my vibrams was becoming a bit of a chore, and I was keen not to end the day with sopping wet shoes again. I finally came across a larger mall to shelter in, that I thought might keep me occupied for a little while longer. To my amazement I had stumbled upon Galerías Pacífico. I had read in my lonely planet that it was one of the cities most prominent shopping malls and contained a beautiful fresco ceiling. As I approached the centre of the mall I could see a large Christmas tree covered in a blanket of colour changing lights, and above that the ceiling. It was fascinating that something as mundane as a shopping mall would have such an ornately painted ceiling at it's centre. I wondered if the ceiling had been painted for the mall or if the mall had been built around an existing building. Whichever it was, it was certainly a tourist draw as everyone there was taking snaps with the tree and ceiling as the backdrop.

Having killed some time looking through the massively overpriced Galerías Pacífico, I was getting bored of the rain, and so headed back to the Recoleta Mall to watch a movie. Through a combination of metro hoping and sheer luck I managed to arrive at the cinema with enough time to buy my ticket and an enormous popcorn. Although I had checked the other day which movies were being shown in English, I was a little uncertain I had made the right choice as I sat through the trailers. I chuckled to myself about how ironic it would be if I had bought a ticket and made myself comfy in the warmth of the cinema only to be subject to ninety minutes of poorly dubbed action from Justin Timberlake in 'In Time'.

I emerged happy that I had saved this treat for today rather than going last night, as the rain had passed and it had turned into a gloriously sunny, warm afternoon. I walked back to Plaza San Martin to make the 5pm walking tour with BA free tours. I had plenty of time before the tour, so I decided to partake in the very South American pass time of having a coffee at a place overlooking Plaza San Martin. There were lots of ladies that lunch and harassed looking business men as I entered, so I decide to sit quietly at the bar and order my pre-tour snack. I recharged my body and brain with an espresso and a huge wedge of the lightest chocolate and orange cake in the world - I was most defiantly ready to walk the streets of Buenos Aires again.

I crossed the road to find a group of people crowded around a guy wearing a bright green BA free tours T-shirt. Juan introduced himself as our guide for this evenings tour, which would involve more of the cultural history of the city rather than the political side. Juan began with an explanation of the San Martin monument and how although San Martin was shown atop a stallion, he actually brought the Andes army together whilst ridding a mule. He explained that because of the amount of pride that Argentinians had in their liberator, they would always say that he rode a horse as it seemed more fitting to one of their greatest leaders. Juan went on to explain the significance of the many palaces that surrounded the square, and how they once played home to the high society of the city. Sadly due to the many military dictatorships that Argentina had had to endure during it's two hundred years of independence, many had been abandoned for fear of their wealth being taken. This had lead to the city allowing the glass fronted American Express building to be erected next to one of the cities palaces.

From here we made our way further down Plaza San Martin, which over looked the docks. Juan pointed out that Buenos Aires had a host of architectural gifts given to Argentina by other countries with whom it held strong trade ties. One such gift was a clock tower donated by the UK, which Porteños (people who were born and live in the city) affectionately called 'Little Big Ben'. Further down the plaza we arrives at a memorial to the 1982 Falklands war, where two soilders stood sentinel. As Juan began to explain the history of the war I began to feel a little embarrassed. Although I knew it was the military dictatorship that invaded the islands, I couldn't help but think that there may still be some bitterness for the Argentines. Even though I stood there and listened in almost silence, my feelings appeared totally unnecessary as Juan began to explain that Argentina had been totally unprepared for the war due to poor equipment and training.

Our next stop was the French and Brazilian embassies which both overlooked Avenue 9 de Julio. Juan told us that the Brazilian embassy had started out as the dream of a member of Argentinas elite, who had visited France and fallen in love with the building. This man of high society asked the French architect to build the exact same building for him in Buenos Aires to act as his home. Sadly, on the boat over the architect died and he was left with only the blueprints. Knowing how his dream house could be built he engaged the services of a local architect to help his realise his dream. However, in his old age he began to loose his eyesight and as a result the architect built the house that he wanted to design rather than the original, so the two palaces look nothing alike!

As we rounded the corner back into the Recoleta district we saw a number of police officers, in full riot gear who were standing next to the French embassy. Within minutes we heard the beating of drums and chanting of songs that signalled the arrival of another protest. Juan assured us it was safe and that the protesters were the supporters of the cities two football teams, River and Boca. They were demonstrating because of a ruling earlier in the season which effected both sides. Dodging past the waves of people, we continued the tour down Avenue Alvear. Juan explained that this was the safari section of the tour due to the people we may encounter. Everyone looked a little bemused as Juan explained that the health system in Argentina allowed people to have plastic surgery every two years. Juan told us that obviously this can go a little overboard the older the person gets, and if we saw anyone that looked a little overdone then we should shout 'Lion'.

As we passed more palaces, including that of the Vaticans, we emerged popster the Recoleta cemetery. Juan gave us a little more history on the cemetery and that it now mostly disused other than by the families who had had plots there for centuries. As we walked I noticed more red telephone boxes in the plaza as well as a familiar looking red postbox. I asked if they were of Argentinian design and Juan said that they were reclaimed from the UK and used here. I knew that British telecom had got rid of a lot of the old boxes, but didn't realise that they were making a quick buck on them too!

Once the tour had finished Juan asked if anyone was hungry, to which a few of us nodded eagerly. Juan had suggested going to a local grill that was a couple of blocks away, one of those treasures that only the locals really know about. The four of us willingly followed Juan back through Recoleta to the grill, where we were seated and brought some drinks. I was keen to try a Quilmes stout rather than have their lager again and was rather surprised. Having always liked Guinness, and been a fan of a winter porter when it's been brewed, the stout was like neither. It had the colour of a stout when in the glass but without the thick creamy head and it tasted far sweeter. It was an unusual taste, but it was a pleasant change from all the larger I had been drinking of late. Our waiter came back to take a food order and I didn't have a clue what to have. I very much felt like I was along for the ride on this one, and was quite happy to eat whatever Juan thought would be good.

Our starter was a huge plater that consisted of what looked like breaded chicken and breaded beef, cold Parma ham, onions rings and fried cheeses to name but a few. I wasn't sure if this was on the menu or something that Juan had just asked for, but it was definitely akin to a rather more diverse plate of bar food. As we waited for our main course we chatted about travel experiences and probed Juan about how he got involved in doing the tour. He explained that he had just finished his degree in media studies and that leading the tour was just a way to subsidise his main source of income. Although it was evident he loved talking about the city he mainly designed films and footage for the clubs to play on their tv screens. I was amazed that someone so young would have loved learning the history of his country to such a degree as to enable him to give guided tours. Yet I suppose that summed up Argentina as a whole: there seemed to be more young people involved in things like the church and the country's politics here then would ever be interested back in the UK.

As we talked our main course arrived and I tried desperately hard not to look disappointed. Juan had ordered what the Argentinians consider a bit of a speciality dish of theirs called the Lommo. A Lommo is a piece of beef that is thinly beaten out, lightly breaded and fried, much like a schnitzel. They are then given different toppings and named according to what they are topped with. For example, we had one which was topped with a thick tomato sauce and was called a Lommo Napoli. In my time working in the various kitchens in and around Brisbane, I had cooked more chicken parmigiana then I care to remember, and to me this seemed like a beef version. It tasted nice enough though, as did the one topped with mozzarella, spinach and sun-dried tomatoes... but it wasn't what I had hoped for. Nonetheless it was a wonderful evening and a great experience. We stayed late into the night talking before Juan finally put an end to things by pointing out the queue of people that went out the door, all waiting for a table.

Having thanked Juan for his time and the experience, we all went our separate ways. I decided to walk back to Palmero House rather than catch the bus as I was completely stuffed and needed to walk it off. I went straight to bed when I got back as I knew the chance of getting much sleep on the coach tomorrow night would be slim to none.

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