Buenos Aires

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A fifteen hour $120 bus ride from Puerto Iguazu got us to Buenos Aires in good shape. Argentine busses are incredibly comfortable. Services offered provide reclining bed like seats, individual video screens presenting movies and music videos, a full bar pouring wine, champagne and whiskey as well as serving full hot meals. Greyhound in America can't compete. We relish the comfort since many previous Central and South American busses lacked even basics like a bathroom, heater or blanket for cold nights or a window that would open for fresh air. One overnight bus in Bolivia required requesting the bus driver while roaring down the highway to pull over in the middle of nowhere for bathroom breaks. It was lovely urinating under nighttime sky illuminated with zillions of stars, but a bit awkward finding space away from female passengers. God knows how they felt. Anyway, we arrived in Buenos Aires at the huge Retiro Station, probably the largest bus station I've seen and indicative of Buenos Aires being one of South America's most popular destinations.



Outside the bus station we hopped a cab who raced, I mean rocketed through much of downtown Buenos Aires until arriving at our apartment in Parque Patricios Barrio on BA's outskirts. Every traveler has the death defying lets gamble with your life and upend your adrenaline ride with a taxi. This was ours, speeding at oncoming traffic, cutting off slower saner drivers, Amei digging her nails deep into my skin, and virtually feeling like we were ready to take flight. Arriving eyes wide open at our rented apartment, I believe I tipped our driver not as thanks for living another day, but a defiant way of saying that was nothing. Didn't bother or worry us a bit, which of course was total fabrication, but we didn't want our truly terrorist taxi driver to have the satisfaction of scaring the wits out of two South American seasoned travelers. Anyway, shaking off the jitters, we moved into our humble apartment at a Buenos Aires bargain at $30 a night, was welcomed by Evonne, also a renter and student mastering music. Recently we've used Airbnb.com in choosing apartments in larger cities since hotels are costly and typically impersonal. By choosing an apartment, you get a good price along with conveniences including a kitchen, washer, internet as well as the personal recommendations of your host and to experience local life in common neighborhoods.



Our neighborhood was a delight, a working class kind of place with a pizzeria on a corner, a small vegetable/fruit store with products displayed outside, mom's pushing strollers over cracked sidewalks, bustling bakeries managed by aging couples, and graffiti coloring many of the walls. People are friendly and forward, never shy, engaging with conversation and quick to ask where you are from. Amei and I were approached several times when we looked a bit lost, asked if we needed help with directions. Although the language is Spanish, the mannerisms and tone sure sound like Italy, indicating the Italian immigrant and European roots of most Argentinians. Greetings are a hug and kiss on the cheek, conversations are boisterous booming affairs with hands flailing and friendly finger pointing, prompting recollections of old world immigrant neighborhoods that made up 19th century American big cities.



With only five days in Buenos Aires, Amei and I had to work fast to experience the most BA offers. For $25 we choose the one day bus tour allowing one to hop on and off at desired locations. One of those desirable locations was Recoleta Cemetery, resting place for Evita Peron. As popular, powerful and loved as Eva was, her family tomb was quite modest. No monumental mausoleums here, just a black slab of marble with simple plaques commemorating her life and times. While alive though, a stop at the Casa Rosada surely had her living the dream. A hour long tour of Argentina's President House, the Casa Rosada is an impressive site with stately rooms and ornate offices. Highlights of the visit include walking through the room where Evita stood on the balcony greeting adoring fans and another well appointed room where she welcomed guest. Also, we were allowed a visit to the first female and presiding President Cristina Kirchner office, her equivalent to our President's Oval Office. Pretty cool, but damn no pictures allowed.



Finally, a visit to Buenos Aires wouldn't be complete without something having to do with tango, beef and staying up until early morning hours. I'm happy to report we accomplished all three, but just barely. To witness true spontaneous tango we were told by our apartment host that we should visit one of the tango clubs late at night. It was suggested we have dinner like normal Portenos, starting at 10 PM and finishing up at around midnight or one, whereby we should hit the Cathedral, a old school rough around the edges tango club. Amei and I found a quaint restaurant in the San Telmo barrio, worked hard at finishing off a mound of meat, a bit of a struggle not so much for the portion but for the time at night it was presented. Indulging in large portions of beef just before midnight is a bit hard to swallow. But swallow we did, swished down with red wine. With dinner over we headed by taxi to the Cathedral. Right away we liked the Cathedral, a real grungy but local hip place where long hair for males was vogue, old sofas lined the walls, beer proliferated but the real stuff strutted on the dance floor. Couples of all ages while tightly embraced tangoed the night away. These were local folks living the dance that Buenos Aires is dedicated to. Our mistake though was to witness the beauty of tango from one of those ah so comfortable couches. Soon Amei began dosing and I was close behind, my head weaving and bobbing and my mind disbelieving it was 4AM. Although the dancing was still going strong, Amei had to get out of there before we embarrassed ourselves by snoring rather stepping through the tango. What a night, we probably hadn't been up that late since Amei's pregnancy, slept it off until noon the next day and wondered how Argentinians dine so late and dance so long. Travel does baffle. Next stop London.

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Photos

Spanish Fort Now Museum
Behind and underneath the Casa Rosada