Buenos Aires and Iguazu Falls

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Buenos Aires is described as the Paris of South America. As we stepped off the metro and onto the apartment lined streets of San Telmo (the district we’d be staying in), we really could have been walking the streets of the French capital. One constant reminder of our true location still remained; the need to play hopscotch, dodging the pieces of dog poo that seem to plague the entirety of South America. Apparently the issue plays highly in the local mayoral elections and yet those same mayors are yet to come up with a way to clean up the issue.



The Parisian theme continued at the hostel. A converted townhouse, a narrow winding tile clad staircase linked the reception to the rooms above. We planned to stay in Buenos Aires for a significant amount of time (at least by our standards); an initial stay of four nights, a four day excursion to Iguazu Falls on the Brazilian/Argentine border and then a further stay of five days before our flight onto New Zealand. To make sure we weren’t stuck in an abomination of of a hostel we’d only booked the initial four day period but within an hour the charms of the place be apparent and we’d signed on the dotted line for a second stint.



Learning our lessons from previous cities, we began our stay in Buenos Aires with a free walking tour. Starting at the Palace of Congress, our volunteer guide, a local film student, took us through the architectural history and highlights of central Buenos Aires. An Art Nouveau style coffeehouse (Confitería El Molino), once the meeting place of local big-wigs, now home to a legion of squatters; a consequence of the odd mixture of European architecture and belligerent politics that collide in Buenos Aires. Past a bronze statue of ‘The thinker’ by Rodin, an image of Dante. Then onto the Palacio Barolo, designed to be an architectural version of Dante’s Inferno, his imaginings on a vision of hell. The tour continued, we even got chatting about the British/Argentinian trains that ran in Argentina in the 19^th century (and now, like all over South America, don’t). Our guide suddenly became less chatty when we reached the next step on our tour, the Falklands war memorial.



Our guide reflected the clear tension there still is in Argentina over the 1982 conflict. Clearly happy explaining the memorial and the war to the Europeans and Americans in the group, he seemed more hesitant with us. Interestingly, tax law in Argentina still, in theory, applies to those making purchases in the Las Malvinas. If you live in Argentina, purchases made online to companies based Argentina and Las Malvinas are tax free; the fact that the Argentine government might find it hard to extract any tax it considered was payable is beside the point. The tour ended outside the Pink House, the Argentine version of the white house. I headed across the square to look at the permanent protest, staged by 1982 veterans against both the treatment of those who served and against the occupation of the Falkland Islands by the British. That evening we selected where to eat via a game of rock-paper-scissors. Faux-English pub selected, fish and chips ordered, job done.



The next morning we began to explore the city independently. Our first port of call, Florida Street, famous for shopping. We weren’t going there to spend though, instead we headed there to make some money via the blue market. Selling your US dollars to middle men (who then sell these on to ordinary Argentinians to hedge against inflation) nets you an additional 50% in Pesos. After taking out around $1000 US in Chile, crossing the border and then selling these at around 12 pesos to the dollar we had turned our exchange rate from an ‘official’ rate of 12 for every pound to 18. Wandering Florida street we managed to get as far as about 2 metres before we met someone shouting ‘Cambio’; we had a quick chat, agreed a rate, were whisked into an apartment building, up a flight of stairs, into an apartment come waiting room, drug deal style we handed over a wad of cash, received an even bigger wad in return, smiled, said gracias and left 50% richer. We then went shopping at the Sunday San Telmo market where we sifted through the jewellery, leather, art, antiques, handicrafts, food and souvenir stands in search of bargains. We found a few bits and pieces, including a smiling empanada keying. The blue market prices certainly kept things reasonable, without this the cost would have been comparable to regular shopping in the UK.



After pounding the streets for hours our legs needed a rest. We stopped at one of the cafes that lined the street and enjoyed a couple of real empanadas and some beer. I’d had enough of shopping by this point and we agreed to move onto our next job of the day, exploring Boca.



Boca is one of the poorer sections of Buenos Aires and supposedly one of the more dangerous, some sections you are specifically advised against visiting. However, like all places if you stick to the main tourist routes nothing too much goes awry. Boca is also home to the world famous Boca Juniors team, Maradona’s home club and whose matches against River Plate are described as the ‘Super Classico’. This was our first destination. As we walked through Boca, a Sunday fair had been organised on large playing fields outside the stadium. The local kids had some silky skills but I guess it comes pretty naturally to Argentinians growing up a stone’s throw away from one of the most famous clubs in South America. We reached the stadium too late for a tour so I resolved to visit again in a few days. Instead we pressed onto El Caminito, a street famous for its brightly coloured houses. The biggest employer in Boca historically were the docks; leftover paint from the shipyards would then be taken home and used to brighten up the exterior of the workers houses. Thoroughly worn out by our march of Buenos Aires we headed back to the hostel to prepare ourselves for another day of sightseeing.



The following morning we were greeted by bright blue skies and intense sunshine. We sat down to breakfast (cereal, tea and cake) and then set out to visit Cementerio de la Recoleta. Originally constructed by an order of monks in the 18^th century, the cemetery now contains the graves of Argentine’s historic great and good. Circa 90 of which are now considered national monuments including the grave of Eva Peron. The walled cemetery is a sprawling labyrinth of marble mausoleums and statues. Unlike anything at home it is incredibly morbid and yet fascinating to visit. Heading back home we decided to do something more cheerful and went for ice cream at Freddo’s. Bekah ‘accidentally’ managed to order half a kilo of ice cream for herself and proceeded to demolish the lot.



The next morning we braced ourselves. We faced a 27 hour bus ride from Buenos Aires to Puerto Iguazu, near the Brazilian/Argentinian border. As a precaution we’d booked a ‘cama’ bus ticket for the first time on our jaunt around South America. ‘Cama’ roughly translates as ‘have a reasonable night’s sleep and don’t get cramp’ but is more expensive; the thought of 27 hours on a bus though convinced us that the expense may end up being worth it. It was. One of the fine things about the tourist infrastructure in the southern half of South America is that if you buy a ticket you receive a journey in line with what is stipulated on the ticket. Elsewhere, in Bolivia for example, tickets are sold until the bus/minivan/whatever fills up and then it leaves; the time this takes is somewhat variable as is the journey time. Our journey took 27 hours, we received in ‘flight’ meals and got some sleep, all round success. We picked up some pizza and empanadas when we arrived (with some extra for our lunch the next day).



We’d come to visit the falls from both the Brazilian and Argentinian sides of the border, each of which would take up a day’s worth of exploring. We began with the Argentinian side. Blisteringly hot, we caught an early bus to the national park that the falls form a part of, paid a moderately extortionate entrance fee and went about planning our route around the park.



As an aside (and as a slight rant) the price paid to enter the park (and for that matter a host of attractions across South America) depends on your nationality. Locals have no fee, nationals pay a low rate and foreigners pay a sky high price. Compare that to a tourist attraction in the UK where everyone pays a sky high price. Ah well, at least we are not American and have to pay 100s of US Dollars to even enter the country.



We began by heading straight to the main event, a path that weaves its way through the jungle before opening onto a view of the horizon spanning falls. The view and noise was spectacular. The pathway, made of wood, clings to the edge of the falls as you wander round getting lost (and wet) in search of fabulous photo opportunities. We took a couple of hours to walk around the full extent of the falls on the Argentina side. Taking it all in we then decided to head on a 7km walk to a much smaller and more secluded waterfall surrounded by jungle. The map even suggested that swimming was allowed. On the way Bekah decided to try and take a photo of every single butterfly in Argentina. Our slow pace did however mean that we spotted copious amounts of wildlife including monkeys, coatis and of course, butterflies.



Arriving at the secluded waterfall there were indeed people swimming. However, as opposed to the 1000s crowding the main event there were a grand total of five people enjoying the view. I promptly made it even more interesting as I jumped in and danced to Bekah’s rendition of ‘Mysterious Girl’ by Peter Andre. The main falls were spectacular but an isolated waterfall in the jungle you can swim and dance in was quite a highlight.



Day two in Iguazu began with another bus journey, this time into Brazil. The main challenge here was becoming re-accustomed to Portuguese for the day. Over the past eight weeks we had quite enjoyed learning/babbling Spanish and reverting was not instinctive. The view from the Brazilian side was even more spectacular than the day before. We had the opportunity to explore and get up close in Argentina but in Brazil we got to see the full panorama of Iguazu falls as well as head out onto the walkway to get truly into the mist of the action. There was however less to do (unless you were willing to spend a lot of money on all the offered excursions), and so once we’d walked around the circuit we headed out of the park and into a bird sanctuary opposite, Parque des Aves, to see the birds up close we had seen in the wild in the Pantanal. Another bus across the border (and another set of exit/entry stamps in the passport) a night at the hostel and the next morning we jumped on another 27 hour bus all the way back to Buenos Aires.



The city is home to an array of magnificent buildings one of which, once a theatre, now houses one of the finest (according to the Guardian) bookshops in the world. This was our first destination after recovering from our day on the road. It also kick started a very cultured day of sightseeing. The old proscenium arch stage now plays host to an overpriced café and the stalls store row upon row of bestsellers. We went exploring, tested how much Spanish we had really picked up by browsing the Spanish translations of books we’d read and then headed out to buy a McDonalds and leave the culture behind. It was yummy though (Big Macs taste the same everywhere!).



Our next stop was the Museo de Bella Artes (gallery of fine art). Much to Bekah’s annoyance I have a habit of examining almost everything as we head around a museum or gallery and she normally ends up searching for a seat. The collection was very interesting and, unlike most galleries, they allowed photography; which seems to me very sensible. The museum contrasted very heavily with our next destination, the MALBA, which was pricy, dull and sparsely populated with prosaic paintings and sculpture. Bekah did not need to find a seat at this one and as we were both heavy legged and hungry, we headed out quickly to find some food and then sleep.



One classic activity we had failed to do but which was a requirement of our entry to Argentina was to take a tango lesson. To rectify this we signed up to a beginners’ lesson, dinner and show. Purely for tourists we were expecting this to be a cheese fest, but fun. We began the day at Café Tortoni, the oldest café in Buenos Aires and another tourist must see. We scoffed on some very sickly churros with Dulce de leche (donuts and caramel). Our waiter kindly snapped a few shots of us amongst the grandeur whilst our stomachs ached.



We went our separate ways after breakfast. I had a tour of the Boca Juniors stadium lined up; Bekah fancied some (hopefully) window shopping. The tour was great fun. I happened to be the only non-South American on the tour and the only non-Spanish speaker, the two Brazilians also spoke Spanish. The consequence of this was that our guide explained once to 29 of the group and then I received a personalised performance afterwards. This suited me nicely as some of the Spanish sank in the first time and then we got to chat whilst the rest of the group wandered. From Maradona’s permanent box seat (which he rarely uses given that he lives in Dubai) to the intimidation received by the away team and the history of the club the tour was fascinating. The story of how the club’s colours came to be, selected based on the flag of a ship which happened to be arriving in port (it was Swedish) as one of many stories. After indulging in the acquisition of relatively pointless football trivia for a couple of hours I headed back to meet up with Bekah. She had bought only one thing; a successful afternoon all round.



The tango lesson was, as expected, full of cheese. However, none the less enjoyable for it. My two left feet came to prominence during the lesson, which Bekah found hilarious apparently. Thankfully it was over quickly. We received a certificate (we can now officially dance tango and have the paperwork to prove it); then it was on to dinner. Good steak and wine accompanied by some professional tango on stage and our night and our time in Buenos Aires was done. The next day we would be heading out of Argentina, out of South America and onto New Zealand.

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Photos

DSC03036
Palace of Congress

Reserva Ecologica Constanera Sur
Nature reserve in the middle of Buenos Aires