Last Tango in Buenos Aires

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We awoke for the last time this morning onboard the Veendam following our Latin America and Antarctica adventure to the din of a busy port bustling with cargo. Outside our lanai sliding window transport containers were stacked above our lower promenade cabin. The constant warning beep-beep-beep interrupted the morning calm. Gone, were our big suitcases, removed from the hallway outside our door where we left them the night before by porters hauling them ashore for all passengers, color coded for departing times and destinations. Our Brown-2 tags meant that they should magically appear at the Sheraton where we would be staying one additional night in Argentina. We had just the clothes we needed for the day. After showering and dressing, we made our way to the Lido for our final meal. There was a general downcast look on people and the resignation that this was indeed the hour and the day of our disembarkation. It is so different from the look of anticipation that paints the faces of people about to begin an exciting journey… and this certainly has been an exciting journey. We had met a couple, about our age, at the estancia that had sat across from us at the luncheon on the estancia the day before, who would be boarding for the return voyage the next day. They clearly had a sense of mirth and ears eager to hear what wonders that we had seen, and our stories just encouraged them more for what lay ahead for them. When told that Sharon and I were recently married, she from Ohio and me coming to live there from California, she wondered if we’d met on e-Harmony as she and her husband had. Sharon said, “No, we’ve known each other for over thirty years.” They were the third couple that we’ve met while on this cruise that had been married for a shorter time than us; and, I believe the fifth couple this cruise that met on e-Harmony.





The seconds ticked by like hours of torture as we awaited for the departure call for Brown-2 at about 9 AM. There were people who still had a HAL tour before getting to the airport for an evening flight. Some lucky ones still had the Iguassu Falls in their itinerary; which, Sharon did on her previous trip, and are far more incredible than Niagara. She cautioned though that it would be extremely humid in the middle of the South American summer. We finally heard our group announced and we boarded the shuttle to the terminal. Ruth was on the island where we got of the shuttle, resigned to the fact that HAL didn’t have a wheel chair waiting for her as she’d requested. Nonetheless, it gave us a chance for a final good-bye. Not needing to find our luggage among the sea of suitcases in the large terminal, we made our way directly to the exit. Sharon had arranged for us to be picked up by a private tour guide. It was chaos just outside the terminal doors, people yammering in Spanish and English and German and a score of languages I couldn’t identify. There were plenty of name placards being waived for us to see. One limo driver even had an iPhone app that showed the customer’s name in large letters on the phone’s display. But none of them were for us! We had found our guide immediately in Santiago, and were certainly hoping for a similar experience here. We took turns watching our two carry-on bags, laptop and HAL tote bag; but, to no avail. There were new placards appearing, but none for us. Once while Sharon was watching the bags a pushy porter for the large 200+ people “Fun for Less” group ordered her to “get out of the way”. She wasn’t about to move our luggage by herself, besides which, we were right where we were supposed to be. That group had squatted on a good portion of prime sidewalk, collecting both luggage and cruisers, before boarding their private tour coaches. Sharon told the man to go around, and he did. We found a less hectic corner, checking the other side of the terminal, and eventually resorted to getting our tour operator’s phone number. I did manage to get a call through to an answering machine, but in this noisy environment it was difficult to hear my phone. We went back to the original exit location, and by now the “Fun for Less” group was beginning to board their busses. I made another pass checking the placards, when I noticed an unfamiliar face come up and pull out a piece of paper, and there was Sharon’s name on it to my delight. In that second the half-hour ordeal of feeling helplessly lost in a foreign country vanished, and the feeling that our adventure would continue flooded over me, at least for another day.



Our guide’s name was Pepe, and our driver Oscar was parked nearby in a Mercedes, with a bit of a sloping roof in the rear (a bit difficult for me to get into and out of). All I could think was that it was a good thing that we didn’t have our other luggage with us because this car would never have worked. One of the first things that Pepe did bring up, was something he termed a bit delicate, assuring us that where we were staying at the Sheraton, that we would be safe there, but… Sharon then showed him all of her naked fingers, sans jewelry, and Pepe nodded approvingly. Okay then… with that out of the way we got on with the tour. We did a brief drive through town, briefly rode on the famous 9^th of July Boulevard so many lanes wide and made famous by a score of films and TV shows. We also drove by the domestic airport, and the soccer stadium rimmed by the red-and-white Coca-Cola logos. Pepe explained that this team was sponsored by Coca-Cola and that their team colors were red and white. He also said that their cross-town rivals were also sponsored by Coca-Cola, and that their very similar stadium is also sponsored by Coca-Cola, but the logos that ring the top of that stadium are in black-and-white. Since red-and-white was already taken, nobody could agree what the team colors should be. Finally, they all agreed that they would go down to the port the next morning, and the team’s colors would be the same as the colors of the flag of the first ship arriving in port. That first ship bore a Swedish flag, and so the team now sports the pastel like Swedish blue and yellow.



Pepe had asked us if we were hungry, and he did have a cold bottle of water waiting for each of us in the back seat. We said that we’d just eaten, so Pepe noted that we had just enough time to get to the dock to catch the 10:30 AM tour where we would board a tour boat for a one hour ride around the delta. The water was fruity flavored water, and Sharon appreciated that it was wet and “sin gas”. As I’ve mentioned, Buenos Aires is at the confluence of two rivers, which over the years has caused a great deal of sediment to build up. This sediment has resulted in the many islands to have formed, creating a delta criss-crossed by waterways. The islands are largely inhabited with individual homes, but there are also many rowing clubs and retreats and private clubs. There are no automobiles or roads on the delta lands, and everything must come and go on the water. There are boats bringing potable water, boats bringing fuel, boats bringing other staples. Every home has its own dock and boats ranging from rowboats, kayaks to expensive speedboats and contraptions to haul them in and out of the water. Scores of residents were seen lounging on their private piers, with children swimming in the muddy waters. Evidently the pollution that contaminates the resulting river on the Argentinean side separating Buenos Aires and Montevideo doesn’t extend into the delta waters. The Spanish speaking boat guide directed passengers to one thing or another, and Pepe translated for us. Passengers were then offered a complimentary candy treat. I was Sharon’s guinea pig (again) and it was a mostly chocolate ball-like cookie with hard chocolate icing that we both enjoyed. Pepe then bought us a Coke, which Sharon and I shared. It was the first of the day, and I think Sharon got her second wind after that very refreshing thirst-quenching drink. We saw an ambulance boat cruise past us, and realized what a different lifestyle it would be to live on the delta. Pepe told us that the delta region itself is seven times the size of the city of Buenos Aires, and the map provided by the boat guide showed our journey in a circuit through a maze of waterways.



After the boat ride we did visit some open marketplaces, and tourist district with many busy shops. We mentioned that we had no Argentinean pesos with us, but Pepe assured us, that that didn’t matter. Most places take VISA, MasterCard and American Express (but not Discover). But he said what Argentineans really prefer is US Dollars (cash). It is virtually the second national currency of Argentina! The official exchange rate is about 4.8 Argentinean pesos to one US Dollar. He said that when buying in cash, the exchange rate with a vendor is negotiable, and it may be possible to agree to a much better rate, even as high as 7.5 pesos per dollar. The Argentinean peso is under such pressure, and inflation is so high, that natives are forced to maintain funds in a foreign currency to avoid deflation of buying power. It’s common for Argentineans to have funds banked in US Dollars, or the Euro, or even the Uruguayan peso. Flight from the peso is such a problem; that, the government restricts how much foreign currency natives are allowed to buy. From income tax records, the government knows how much a person earns. They are only permitted to exchange one-third of their salary to foreign funds. We also visited a couple of very impressive churches and cathedrals. We also visited a park with one incredible tree with wide big low-reaching branches. The branches were so big, and extended so far from the massively wide trunk, that supports for the branches had been installed to support the huge overhead canopy of this single tree. We were dropped at our hotel about 2PM, and Oscar and Pepe would pick us up the next morning at 9:30AM for a proper city tour. He also told us that a shuttle would pick us up for our Tango show between 7:30 and 8:00 that evening. Pepe stayed with us until we were checked in to make sure everything went smoothly. We asked about our luggage and they said it was in the room. When we got to our very nice room, Sharon’s big bag was there, and our shared bag was there, but my big bag (the one with my tuxedo and the wine I had bought) was missing. I went back downstairs and reported my missing bag to the HAL representative who was in the lobby. She was very helpful, and we went downstairs to the basement where other luggage was being stored, but my bag was not one of them. They took the description and said they would track it down. Meanwhile, Sharon and I went out to look for lunch. We found a restaurant on the corner, and their menu included English descriptions, so we decided to give it a try. Many people were seated outside, but we got a table for two in the cool of the inside, by a window so we could see life bustling by.



Pepe had mentioned during our tour earlier, that we should try the pizza in Buenos Aires, saying it was different than what you find elsewhere. I decided to give the pepperoni pizza a try. It was a medium sized thick crusted pizza that cost about $10. The top was completely covered with ham, and also grilled red chili peppers, which is where I’m thinking the “pepperoni” name came from. The pizza also had plenty of cheese and a tasty herb rich tomato based sauce. The pizza was delicious, even with Coke. The next day Pepe said that pizza is best eaten with beer and never with Coke: My faux pas. Sharon had the chicken with mushroom sauce and French Fries. The portion was very large; twice what she could eat despite being very hungry, and a pretty good value at $15. I paid with American Express, for the meal, but they don’t allow tips to be paid on credit cards. Fortunately, US Cash is gladly accepted, and such transactions are “off the books” and not subject to the government regulations, although Pepe had noted that this really is a sort of a “black market”. We had our eyes on desserts in a case next to our table, but by the time I finished my pizza-for-two and Sharon finished her meal, all that we could think of was enjoying a short nap before our late night tango show.



We walked around the block on our way back to the hotel. We stopped in the large indoor air-conditioned mall Pepe had told us about, but we didn’t readily spot a jewelry store. Sharon was looking to pick up a couple pieces for her and others. But the onboard HAL Signature Shop didn’t have the same selection they’d had on her previous cruise. We were scheduled to be picked up at 7:30PM for transport to the tango show.

Several others boarded the minibus at the Sheraton, and we made stops at a couple other hotels, before we found our way to the tango district. Four people were let off on one cobblestoned street that really shook us up. We drove around to the next block over and we got out. We checked in the lobby of a very ornate wood paneled building, and made our way down a winding stone staircase to the basement dining room where tables for two or four people were arranged in a tiered fashion down to the stage. Sitting anywhere in the large narrow hall gave a good view of the curtained stage. We had a choice of two appetizers, and then we got a garden salad and pumpkin soup, and we had a large choice of entrées. I chose the empanadas, and enjoyed two very large spicy meat and potato stuffed empanadas, which were by far the best I’ve had on this vacation. The salad was fresh and crisp and the pumpkin soup was delicious. I can’t remember ever having so much pumpkin soup, so I guess it’s a good thing I enjoy it. Sharon had some vegetable soup and then the pepper-steak, and received a large steak smothered in a pepper-mushroom sauce with French Fries. I ordered the stuffed pasta with ham and chili in Bolognese sauce. It probably wasn’t the best combination, but it was tasty and not too filling. Sharon chastised me for not ordering beef, whispering “He told you he recommended the beef dishes… They’re known for their beef!” If a grilled ribeye or filet had been my choices, I probably would have jumped at that, but I did get to sample some of Sharon’s dish, and I didn’t want the breaded veal cutlet or the beef stew. For dessert Sharon got the caramel Flan custard, and I had the caramel crepes with whipped cream. We shared and they were great. Each table was stocked with its own pitcher of water. And being thirsty, I decided to try the local beer (it was buy one get one free after all). I didn’t realize that our meal came with our own bottle of red wine as well. I did convince the server not to bring both beers at once, and he did bring the second one just before the show started.



The underground dining hall oozed ambiance, in a real candlelit fashion, and not the artificial candlelit tables that we were familiar with in the Pinnacle. On the walls hung the history of tango, of the music on one side, and of the dancers on the other side. The curtain rose revealing the smallest imaginable stage. Four musicians sat in the rear, occupying nearly one third of the stage. Eight dancers then performed a few steps to whet our appetites. This was followed as each couple came out individually, each showing off more complex and intricate foot work. Sharon had questioned before the show started as to whether it would be appropriate for children, spotting a girl about eleven years of age at one of the front tables. We might have been a bit underdressed, sticking to the “smart casual” look. But others did too, but some were dressed to the nines.



Following the initial dance demonstration, began a longer music only presentation, culminating in a vocal tribute to the life of Evita, including “Don’t cry for me Argentina” in Spanish. About the time I began to wonder what happened to the tango dancers, the gaucho came on stage. And the difference between the older gaucho we had seen dancing with the bolas on the estancia, and this gaucho and his ornate silver adorned clothes was obvious. With a bolas in each hand, he caused them to whoosh and whirl at incredible speed, at times creating intricate patterns it’s amazing how he managed to avoid entangling his bolas. And all of the time he’s performing on the small stage with four musicians in the background. At one point his bola nicked the microphone for one of the musicians, and it started to tip over. It was only later that we realized that his precision in using the bolas was so precise, that this minor gaff was intentional, as he maneuvered around the stage and the bolas whizzing within inches of other performers. One performer with long hair stepped forward and leaned over and the whizzing bolas were fluffing his hair on both sides of his head. The bolas also were striking the ground creating their own unique rhythm and cadence.



More tango followed, and again, each couple came out individually. This time the dances were even more intricate and sensual with lifts and impressive footwork. Legs of both partners were constantly passing between the legs of the other. Clearly the dancers were having fun, and by the smiles on their faces, they knew that what they had done they had done well. In retrospect, this show was appropriate for all ages. It was after midnight before the show ended. The server who had brought the beer had made it clear that service was not included, and also could not be included on the credit card. I left him his tip in US cash, and a separate tip for the waiter that served the meal. All in all a great last night in Argentina.

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