Buenos Aires- The Magic City

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Argentineans have a little reputation for being conceited. And those from Buenos Aires are meant to be the worst of them all! But why wouldn’t they be? Their city is magic.
I am willing to overlook the patronising head pats and giggles when I speak Spanish to them. I am willing to not get frustrated about how fast they say everything in a completely different accent to the other countries I’ve visited. Because I love it in BA.
When we arrived, Monica and I tried to check into BA’s infamous Milhouse hostel, where a few of our friends were staying. But alas, both of them were totally full (it’s so popular that there are two) so we checked into a cute little hostel down the road. We didn’t mind. It was hot and sunny and the city buzzed. We walked all the way to the Palermo district to find a tattoo parlour that had been recommended to me, to find that it was shut. But then we met up with Oli, who we had met together in La Paz and who happened to be in town too! We wandered the streets and absorbed the vibrance. It feels so alive; there is music playing and brightly coloured and beautiful graffiti everywhere. We wandered through the San Telmo market that happens every Sunday. It is one long long street completely jam packed with stalls of beautiful antiques, clothes, jewellery, mate cups, trinkets, paintings and souvenirs. The three of us sat outside a café eating brownies with ice cream and drinking red wine while watching the lively bustle and bounce of the market pass us by.
That night we somehow fluffed around until very late, drinking beers in our hostel. At midnight we were ravenous and despairing that we wouldn’t be able to get a meal anywhere! But then we remember that this is BA and everything operates on a totally different time schedule. We walked hesitantly into a restaurant. The waiters looked at us like we were insane when we asked if we could still buy dinner. Of course you can, stupid gringos. So at midnight we sat down for a full steak dinner complete with red wine. I have never really liked steak, but after Argentina can understand the obsession. These steaks are huge and fat and delicious, especially with muchos vino tinto!
We headed out that night to a raucous and quite filthy club called WET at about 3am (when things are just getting started) and danced and partied so long that the sun was coming up during our taxi ride home.
The next day we moved to Milhouse hostel/got kicked out of our first hostel for bringing non guests there very drunk, very late at night. That’s alright, we were leaving anyway!
That night Oli met up with his friend Roger and they left for Iguazu. Monica and I followed rumours to a performance of La Bomba which happens every Monday night. La Bomba del Tiempo is an amazing 14 piece drumming band that absolutely rocked the whole warehouse of tourists and locals alike who had gathered to watch and dance. Most people, ourselves included, had bought space cakes from outside the venue and boogied along in great humour to the lively and inspired beat. It was amazing and frenetic and everyone left with giant smiles on their faces (not only because of the cakes). Monica and I ended the lovely night by eating giant slabs of pizza and lemon meringue pie with our hands in the hostel. That may have been because of the cakes.
The next day the tattoo shop was open! I had expected to need to make an appointment but the tattooist Paulo just looked at his watch and said “How about in ten minutes? I’ll just smoke my cigarette and then we’ll do it.” I almost ran out the door in terror. Luckily Monica was there to force me to breathe and do it. She got a piercing just to make me feel better. Paulo made fun of me for being so scared but was quite impressed that I didn’t scream or squeal.
It was terrifying but exhilarating.
That night we celebrated. Monica, Michelle, John, Louise, Fifi and I listened to a great local band singing cheesy classics in our hostel and then headed out! We went to a club called Bahrein where this amazing English woman was singing, she had an incredible voice. We danced the night away, literally. Once again it was 630 and daylight when we stumbled home.
The next day I swore that I wouldn’t go out again that night but Milhouse had its way. It’s almost impossible not to party if you are staying there. We ordered curry and had a few drinks to commemorate John’s last day in South America. But, as always, a few drinks turned into many especially when I bumped into Tyson, an Australian I had met in La Paz, and we ended up in another club dancing the night away again. Some nice guys from Melbourne joined me in trying to demonstrate the Melbourne shuffle to Monica. We ended up showing her on youtube the next day as our attempts just confused her.
Oli and Roger came back to BA that day for one more night before heading off to Chile. We wandered through town and went to McDonalds on Oli’s insistence.
That night we had a lovely steak and red wine dinner with lots of talking and lots of giggles. Roger felt sick so went to bed while the three of us had a few more drinks. Upon returning to the dorm we found Roger curled in a ball and begging to be taken to the hospital. Oli and I ushered Roger into a taxi (barefoot and still in our party clothes) and raced to the hospital, me urging the taxi driver in Spanish to run all the red lights. He thought it was hilarious and did it willingly. Oli and Roger don’t speak much Spanish so I became official translator, trying not to panic and Roger cramped up so much he couldn’t use his hands. It turned out to be gastro of some kind with severe dehydration and he was fine after a couple of saline drips. Once we realised he was fine we became and little hysterical and just giggled and napped awkwardly on the plastic chairs in the waiting room.
They left that evening and we all said a fond and hungover farewell.
Monica and I had planned to go to the circus that night but missed out on tickets. So instead we indulged in a decadent and expensive meal in the Recoleta suburb. We had red wine, crusty bread with pate, ribs and roast vegetables, calamari and Baileys mousse. We obviously didn’t belong in such a fancy restaurant but didn’t care as we gossiped and chatted for hours there. It was just like chatting with one of my best friends from home. We were actually alarmed when we realised how much time we had spent sitting there.
The next day was our productive day and we were so proud of ourselves. We went back to the Recoleta suburb where they have a great big market and the phenomenal Recoleta cemetery. It is like a gloomy haunting city made up of elaborate ancient looking tombs. Everyone is put in coffins in buildings above ground and you can see right in. They were ornate and quite gothic and eerily beautiful. It is the richest and most elite Argentinians who are buried there. Evita’s body is buried there. She didn’t want to be buried in such an exclusive place but needed to be after her grave was robbed.
BA reminded me so much of Melbourne. It just pulses with life. There are so many artistic things happening all the time that are not set up for tourists but are just part of their everyday lives. That night Monica and I went to the infamous Fuerza Bruta circus/acrobatics show. It was incredible, set right in the middle of the crowd with giant treadmills, wind machines and sounds effects, extraordinary frenetic and powerful dancing and the performers smashing Styrofoam on each others and the crowd’s heads. One actor grabbed my shoulders as he was rushing by and pushed me in front of him (backwards) through the crowd. Then a huge plastic stage was lowered from the roof with water on it and women doing amazing sliding, writhing acrobatics through the water above our heads. It was exhilarating and amazing and at the end they put on loud music and water rained down from the roof all over us.
That night was also Milhouse’s 15th birthday party, and all the guests got free entry into an apparently highly exclusive club called PACHA. We met some other South Africans and Australians who were very drunk and very hilarious. The club was huge. The upstairs level was the size of a normal club but then you went downstairs and it was probably double the size again and absolutely jam packed with people. I have never seen anything quite like it. And then there was an outside area that probably held another 200 people! It was intense and pulsing and a little intimidating but amazing all the same. We spent most time outside as it was just too much inside, and before we knew it, we were dancing in the sunrise! We sang Beatles songs in the taxi all the way home.
That day was Monica’s last day in BA, so despite our pounding heads, she dragged me out of bed. I couldn’t quite believe it, but it had already been a week! It was a Sunday so we went back to the lovely San Telmo market! We rationalised and encouraged each other into far too many purchases and felt all the better for it.
We tried not to get sad when she left that afternoon for Uruguay. It was my last night in BA but most of the friends I had made had left town already. So I ate fat slices of pizza in my room and read the Buenos Aires Herald (while making plans in my head to come back and work for that paper one day).
The next day was my last in BA and last in South America. It was very bittersweet. I wrangled the local bus to the lovely and famous La Boca neighbourhood. All the buildings there are painted in bright amazing colours and all the restaurants have tango dancers prancing out the front. I wandered in the sunshine and absorbed the brilliance of the neighbourhood, trying not to think about leaving.
Against advice I caught the 2 peso local bus to the airport instead of a 170 peso cab. It took two hours rather than 40 minutes, but the slow lug through BA’s outer suburbs was a nice drawn out goodbye. Being at an airport alone is quite a lonely experience and made me even sadder to be leaving. As the wheels left the ground of my precious South America I started to cry. It felt wrong to be leaving, but leave I did. A week in North America and then I would be back in Australia.

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