A long journey...

---

I arrived at my home for the next 3 months on an overnight bus from Buenos Aires. The journey was 9 hours, I think I slept for a couple of them. A long journey, after a rather long day...

... after my previous entry I spent the Wednesday morning as planned with my room mate Luisa wandering the streets of BA, around the old quarter. We went to the area known as 'La Boca', where the Tango is particularly supposed to have originated, on the docks. Now it is a tourist area, painted wodden buildings with tin roofs painted in the most amazing lurid colours, the roof green, one wall blue, the shutters yellow, and the windows red. There are people dancing the Tango on every other corner, trying to attract a few pesos, and the local artists have a field day with their bright acrylic paintings of the area. There are a few original buildings, althouh I think the deco may have changed a little since they were built in the 1800s.

More interesting was our walk there. Despite over 2 weeks in Argentina, neither of us had learnt of the changeable weather patterns, and the cloudy day soon turned to a heavy downpour on our journey. We sheltered in a doorway like a couple of homeless tramps, seated on the map whilst waiting for the downpour to quieten. None of the locals wore raincoats- too hot? or maybe it's just not the fashion these days. The cars going past varied from ones built in the 70s, and not seeing a garage since, to modern 4x4s that seem to be essential to city life the globe over. The buildings are old colonial palaces that have definately seen better days. One huge building had the crumbling words 'Banco Italiano' high above its large wooden doors, but outside the paint had all peeled off, there were panes of glass missing from the windows, and family of dirty kids and their mother stood in the open doorway, revealing a vast empty space behind. Not the place it once was.

So my day was going ok, until I decided to pop into the internet cafe to update some of my blogs, and upload some photos, reply to emails etc. I´d been there a couple of hours, reached down to get something from my bag...only it wasn't there. I panicked, and any Spanish I had left my head as I gabbled to the Argentinian assistant that my bag had gone in English. I think the genuine shock helped with the comprehension, and the owner was called. An older lady of about 50, wearing red nail varnish, a white mini dress and a lot of gold, who fortunately felt mildly responsible, took pity on me. With the help of others in the cafe we got my card cancelled, and I was bundled into a taxi to the police station, to get a report. I was then taken back, and allowed to phone home on their telephone. Fortunately I had my camera around my neck, my passport and most of my money was at the hotel, the guide book I'd been lent can be relaced (Sorry Marcelo - promise I'll buy you a new one), my sunglasses were already broken, and I wasn´t hurt. The thing that upset me was the loss of George, my purple bear, and cherished travelling companion. The sentimental value is immeasurable, and I would have gladly handed my purse over and more to have kept him safe. And I'm afraid no-one will be getting their post cards unless the theif feels generous and buys a few stamps...

I had enough time to change a bit of money, but a bit of food, change clothes at the hostel, grab a taxi and head off to the bus station in a paranoid state. All my remaining bags were strapped to me, every person wlking within 5metres was regarded with suspicion, and it was with huge relief that I boarded the bus, and sat down (bags still strapped on) to leave to the peace and quiet of the countryside...

---

Photos

Colourful 'La Boca'
The buildings are often original 1800s, but I suspect the colours may have been updated a little recently!

Seen better days
There are many beautiful old buildings in a similar state of disrepair, that have been taken over by squatters, who live in squalid conditions