Rain and protesters don't mix

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It has to be said that climbing down from a third tier bunk is not the easiest way to start your day, but it's certainly the quickest way of waking up. Palermo House had relatively small rooms with impossibly high ceilings which meant that their bunk beds were three high rather than the normal two. Couple that with the fact that the ladder to the top bunk is only attached at one end and your on to a winner.

Having showered I climbed the stairs to the common room to find a few bodies passed out from last night as well as a few that were still comatose trying to eat their way out of a hangover. As predicted the hostel had offered the option of cereal, pastries and bread rolls with jam and marmalade. I cooked myself up a feast of fried eggs, steak, tomato and avocado much to the surprise of Juan and those with it enough to see what I was doing. From what I had understood, South Americans party till the wee small hours of the morning, having had a siesta at around 4pm, a late lunch at around 7pm and an even later dinner at 12am. For this reason their breakfast consisted of mainly coffee and a small pastry on their way to work the following day. I wasn't prepared to reset my body clock for an entire continent just yet, so I sat down to enjoy my breakfast with a cup of the incredibly good coffee the hostel served.

Fed and ready to take on the city, I made my way down to the National Congress building for the free city walking tour which Juan had found on the internet. I began to walk done Avenue Santa Fé, but becoming suddenly time conscious I tool the metro the rest of the way. Yet again impressing myself with my navigational skills, and only having to ask for the ticket, I arrived at Congress station. As I emerged I was met by the sound of horns and beating drums which filled the air. There was a huge group of people protesting outside congress who were met by police in full riot gear. Not wanting to get caught up in the mass of people filling the streets I quickly walked to the tour meeting point further down the plaza.

I found the tour group and was greeted by the tour leader Virginia of BA free tours. She began by explaining that the protest was entirely safe and we had nothing to worry about as the capital played host to around thirty protests a week. Just as we began walking we heard some huge bangs and saw a couple of plumes of smoke from where the protest was taking place. Whether it was the protesters or the police I was sure but it didn't really matter because at the same time it had begun to rain. Looking around I wasn't the only person without an umbrella or a waterproof jacket as we started to walk towards the Congress building to begin the tour. As we walk the rain didn't let up, so Virginia was forced to squeeze us under whatever shelter she could find as we stopped for an explanation. As we moved down the plaza towards Avenue de Mayo she told us about the zero point of the city so as to help ourselves navigate it better. Moving towards Avenue de Mayo we saw another group of protesters moving away from us... clearly politics was to be the theme of the tour.

Virginia pointed out the difference in the architecture as we walked and explained that it was down to the influence of the mainly Italian and French immigrants who moved to Argentina whilst it was being built. I suddenly realised that this was why the decorative art museum that I visited yesterday had been filled with French and Italian art works. We were also told that not only architecture but also the culture as a whole had been influenced hence the abundance of patisseries and coffee houses littering the city. It was fascinating to finally understand not only the origin of the culture but also the language. South American Spanish sounds very different to native Spanish and to my ear sounds almost Italian, especially as everyone had said 'Ciao' when i had left a shop.

Our next stop was Avenue 9 de Julio, where we saw Evita depicted on one of the tower blocks overlooking the street. Virginia explained that Avenue 9 de Julio was the second widest avenue in South America and named after one of the days that Argentina celebrates it's independence. We continued down to the Casa Rosada or Pink House which is the Presidential palace, made famous by Evita from where she gave her stirring speeches. We paused here to allow the second group of protesters to pass before we entered Plaza de Mayo. Painted on the ground around the obelisk in the centre of the plaza were white head scarfs. Virginia explained that these were to represent a group of women called the Mothers of Plaza de Mayo who began to ask questions during Argentinas last military dictatorship when thirty thousand people went missing. To this day the group still meet in the square every day to commemorate the loss of loved ones and family during the late 1970's.

From here we were guided back up Avenue R. S. Peña away from Plaza de Mayo towards the city's famous obelisk. The avenue was designed to look entirely symmetrical from either end and sure enough, it did. By this point in the tour the rain was still coming down and the group was having to hug the walls of the buildings to try and stay out of the rain as much as we could. It felt a little pointless as my shoes were so wet it felt like my toes were sloshing around in a pool of water. Once we reached the obelisk in the centre of Avenue 9 de Julio, Virginia began to round up the tour. Amazingly we had walked about three-and-a-half kilometres from beginning to end and it was definitely time for lunch.

Virginia had given a couple of the others in the group directions to her favourite pizza place not a stones throw away and I was invited to join them. Keen to eat, I accepted their invitation and the three of us headed off in search of food. Rezaan was visiting South America from South Africa after a work conference and Katherine was on sabbatical from Australia. It was nice to be in the company of people who first language was English, and made me feel a little less lonely in the big city. Within five minutes of following Rezaan, we had reached El Cuartino which bore more of a resemblance to a canteen rather than the best pizza joint in town.

Once seated, I let Katherine and Rezaan take over the ordering because they had been given the inside information on which was the best pizza. We sat and swapped stories about our travels within South America whilst having a rather limited grasp of the native tongue: I was glad that I wasn't the only one doing this with such little Spanish under my belt. Only ten minutes after ordering we were presented with the biggest pizza that I have ever seen. It smelt divine and none of us were quite sure where to start, so I decided to draw first blood. As I pulled a slice away from the rest of the pizza I soon wished I hadn't gone first, as the cheese from within the pizza began to ooze everywhere. It was a fairly deep dished pizza that was filled with cheese, topped with ham and more cheese and covered in onions... it tasted phenomenal! A couple who had been on the tour with us had eaten at the restaurant the previous night, and had told us they had eaten a pizza to themselves. None of us knew how they had done it, I was pleasantly full after just three slices and would probably have struggled with four or five, let alone nine!

With the weather starting to clear we made our way outside. Rezaan headed off to see the San Telmo area of town, and glad of some company went with Katherine to visit another art museum. We walked back to the obelisk and navigated our way through the back streets to find the museum. As we became more and more lost in the city we found ourselves back at Plaza de Mayo just as it began to rain again. Needing to find some shelter before we got soaked through, we decided to venture inside the cathedral and visit the resting place of San Martin. Although he wasn't actually a saint, the Argentinians considered him that important that he was entombed in the cities cathedral in a side chapel. It was yet another impressive building and although I would have liked the time on my own to sit and contemplate, it was nice to share the sightseeing experience.

With the weather looking as though it wasn't going to get better, Katherine and I said our goodbyes and wished each other safe travels before I took the metro back to the congress. The A line, which ran from North to South, was the oldest metro line in the city. They still ran the service using the same wooden cars that were first used on the line, and gave it a certain feel of a bygone era. When I arrived the protesters were long gone, which gave me chain to go inside congress and inquire about guided tours of the building. Once I had the information I needed I decided to take the metro back to the hostel as my feet were entirely buggered from walking around all day in the rain. I sat and chilled out in the common room for a bit, continuing with the blog before having making myself another steak dinner and contemplated a trip to the cinema.

Far too tired to venture out again, I had a beer and listened to one of the guys staying in the hostel produce some fantastically funky tunes on this little beat box. With the a very chilled vibe i decided to stay in... the cinema could wait until tomorrow as the weather forecast wasn't much better.

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