Great, good and not so good in BA

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A day and a half and so much to remember already ...

San Telmo: Cobbled streets, baroque colonial mansions with intricate wrought-iron balconies and ornate doorways, mosaic tiled sidewalks, Plaza Dorrego bustling with craft merchants, shops in 200-year-old houses crammed with the most amazing antiques (ancient telephones and cash registers, milk separators, dusty chandeliers, old doors, gaudy handpainted furniture, snuff bottles, costume jewellery, furs, posters of cattle diagramming the carne de Argentina ...). Our neighbourhood saw its glory days a century ago, when a yellow fever epidemic drove the fashionable crowd north and to higher ground. It's a little shabby now, and working class, but new little hotels like ours and the plethora of restaurants offering bilingual menus to turistas (along with the customary touts standing outside each handing you the specials of the day) suggest it's moving up fast. In fact, walking down those badly maintained sidewalks (this city would be a horror to anyone handicapped; we've yet to see a wheelchair), one frequently must dodge the spray of a power washer scrubbing decades of black grime off some glorious facade. There's a lot of history here, including the street fights that occurred here back in 1806 when the British briefly invaded Buenos Aires and were repelled on our narrow Defensa street -- apparently giving the Portenos (as BAers are called) confidence that they could fight the Spanish in their own battle for independence three years later. This neighbourhood is also the home of the tango, which is almost impossible to avoid. Last night we strolled across the square to a little restaurant, had a dinner of steak Milanese and "farm salad" -- which turned out to be a lovely concoction of spinach, shaved parmesan and capers -- with flan for dessert, a nice bottle of Argentine Malbec and, of course, a tango show through the evening. One lovely couple demonstrated various schools of tango and then hauled those of us who were obviously turistas up for photographs, hat for a prop. I must have looked the likeliest dance partner, since the gentleman then asked me up again to dance with him. To my surprise -- and to the great credit of his excellent leading -- I seemed to have managed a fair approximation of the right steps. At least the little audience hooted their appreciation at the right moments! All in all, a very fun evening.

City centre: After a walking tour of San Telmo on Thursday, we drifted north to the Montserrat area, the oldest part of the city, where there is a church nearly 250 years old and many other buildings of historical significance. It being a national holiday (Independence Day), we discovered many things were closed, but there was still plenty to take in. In the Plaza de Mayo, where the presidential palace is located, the Mothers of the Disappeared still demonstrate once a week on the fate of their children "disappeared" during the Dirty War of the late 70s and early 80s. The square was full of political posters which our Spanish was not quite equal to reading -- some seemed to be protesting fathers losing rights in divorce. A young woman sang (well) and danced (not well) her protest about something or other, to a small audience of three or four. Other Portenos simply sat around the fountains soaking up the late afternoon sun. It's winter, and quite chilly. Many people wear parkas, scarves and even ear muffs in the evening, though it's not exactly frostbite weather. We're glad we brought sweaters and jackets to layer up. The Metropolitan Cathedral, also on the Plaza de Mayo, has a neoclassical facade, with columns and a triangular pediment with reliefs of Jacob and Joseph. Inside, it's a classic basilica style with enormous rounded Roman arches, a rococo altar and numerous side chapels. The crowd, however, was gathered at the side chapel devoted to the mausoleum of General Jose de San Martin, the George Washington of Argentina who led forces that liberated Argentina, Peru and Paraguay from the Spanish. The attraction? The changing of the guard that stands over his enormous tomb (with its ark-of-the-covenant style sculpture and three adoring women representing the countries liberated). The elaborately garbed soldiers stand stock still at the entrance to the chapel, as fine a mixing of church and state as I've seen anywhere.

Dinner Thursday night was an enormous plate of parilla (grilled meats, Argentine style) for 2 which cost just $19 - more carne than two people should ever be forced to eat! However, our elation about the day was dimmed as we were walking home along the bustling Florida street - a pedestrian street many blocks long. Shortly after leaving the amazing Galerias Pacifica -- a soaring domed mall built in the 1860s! -- I noticed the back pocket on Jeff's backpack was open. Somewhere in a two-block stretch, an expert pickpocket had opened the zipper, unsnapped a small pocket and lifted his cellphone, probably while I stood right next to him waiting for a pedestrian crossing light to change. What a bummer experiencing theft on our first night. Needless to say, we are now being even more vigilant than before. It could have been much worse, of course; the same bag also contained two cameras. We are grateful for small mercies. More later...

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