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Published: January 14th 2006
Argentenian Flag
One of my favourite flags from around the worldThe hostel I chose in Buenos Aires wasn´t the easiest to get to from the airport. I wimped out of the 2 hour public bus ride after the plane journey, so I ended up taking a combination of a private bus and a taxi. Bus? No problems. Taxi? I don't take these very often so it was ironic that I got the driver who thought he could take me for a ride...and he did, well, tried anyway. Following his route on the map I realized it was the long version. As much as I yelled and pointed at the map, threatened to jump out- what did he care? When we then pulled over I thought he had had enough of me and was going to boot me out, but it turned out he was filling up with petrol direct into the engine. As he didn't turn the meter off while we waited I reached over and tried to clear the fare. I was certainly never going to become friends with this guy, so the war of glares and fares began. When we arrived at the hostel, I ran in to get some smaller notes and handed him half of the requested
fare. Oh how the yelling began! How nice it was to turn around arm and arm with the hostel staff and slam the door on his nose. What a strange welcome to a new city!
I unpacked a few things and then felt like nothing more vigorous than a stroll around my neighbourhood. Palermo has some beautiful side streets with parks and gardens very near. I had a snooze in the Japanese Gardens and read up on what I should be doing.
The following day I cruised over to the Eva Peron Museum. The windows and balconies above the streets looked just like those in the movie starring Madonna. Each step I took I couldn't help singing the notorious song "Don't Cry For Me Argentina", a shame I only know the first couple of lines. Argentinians are righteously annoyed when the rest of the world thinks of Madonna alongside the legacy of Miss Peron. But that's Hollywood, encroaching on lives everywhere. Miss Peron had a touch of Hollywood herself, as I learned in the well laid out museum. It helped me to understand the passion that this woman, who along with her husband tried to make
Boca vs. Mexico
The amount of paper, glitter and bog roll flying through the air was nuts. This was before the players had even arrived! their country a better place. Learning of her bodys' disappearance for 11 years was a bit of a shock as well.
I returned to the hostel and my evening began with a lot of apprehension as I stared at my two left feet. The tango lesson was with hostellers dressed the same as I was so it couldn't be too bad! We tried to memorize the forward and backward steps and added a few lingering twirls. And then our instructors told us we were ready for the clubs. Huh?? Did I miss something here? It was 10pm and we were now going to be put to the test in public. I hadn't signed up for this part had I?
The club was dimly lit with displays of high heeled shoes in between the cafe style tables. I showed off a few of my moves whilst muttering step numbers and prayed that I wouldn't be asked to dance by a professional. I was concentrating so hard that I felt rather out of place when I noticed all those dancing around me. Perhaps it was time to sit back and watch the locals. Absorbing the expressions on the
Eva Peron
One of her farewells to the crowds faces of the women who closed their eyes but still managed to glide across and around the floor was amazing. And men were often dancing with each other with the same passionate looks. An immediate reaction for most of us was that we had entered a gay club, but I soon learned otherwise from the world of tango.
As it approached midnight, the club continued to fill with beautiful couples enhanced by flowing and sparkling costumes that made me stare at my flip flops with shame. The club was having a special celebration of dancers and we just happened to be along for the show. There was no way I was able to capture their movements on camera, as I couldn´t bear to tear my my eyes away for a moment. The way in which these dance floor divas oozed looks of desire as they flew through the air was absolutely stunning. It clearly defined passion, an emotion that I´d definitely like to follow up on with some lessons in the future.
My next area to explore was the famed ´Boca´district famous for its bright colours and artistic corners. I found a cafe from which to take
Tango lessons
I didn´t want there to be any evidence of me dancing, so these are the others! in all of the sights , and soon felt as though I had moved into a children´s television program. Imagine a yellow house with red windows and green doors, sounds like Rainbow Bright should live there eh? Costumed tango ´dolls´walked by for the tourists, kids returning from school yelled at each other from second storey windows about starting a game of football, and artists captured the colour spectrum onto their canvases whilst sitting in the sunshine. It was a surreal area that I would be returning to in a few days.
My two day adventure over to Uruguay cut into my Argentina time at this point, but upon my return I threw myself right back into the thick of it. I went to a market famed for its eclectic range of goods in addition to free tango shows in one of the squares. I passed under chandeliers to view tables filled with collections of bottles, beads and toy airplanes. I then found a corner in the square to watch the delectable tango man (well I guess his partner had a few good moves as well!) before parting with a few of my pesos for some touristy knick knacks.
I walked in a few circles watching different street performers, although most of them stood still waiting for money. However it was important not to be late for the night ahead so I then boarded the bus a bit early and prepped myself for my first football match.
The Boca Juniors had beaten all odds to be in the standing that they had reached. It was the final match in the South American Cup, and Mexico arrived to challenge the boys. Boca had won another significant match just a few days earlier, so the fans were celebrating before there was any action on the field. It was almost like New Years had come early as there was so much stuff flying through the air. To be honest, I didn´t even notice when the players had arrived as my eyes were glued to the people all around me. Songs and fireworks, hot dogs and cheerleaders, it was certainly a night to remember. When the score was tied, the tension even curled my toes. The shootout was the ultimate finale, and when Boca scored the winning goal, everybody in the statium was airborne. The fences were hardly a barrier, the
Tango Dancing
Before the dance floor completely filled up police were hardly a threat. We managed to get out of the stadium with no pockets picked and nobody lost. And the celebrations continued all through the night.
Before boarding a bus to my next side trip out of Buenos Aires, I walked over to the cemetery in Recoleta. Cemeteries are certainly not places that I normally frequent on my journeys, but this one was supposed to be rather unique. It was more like a small city with the number and size of the tombs. City of the Dead of course. It felt a bit wrong peering into the miniature houses that were still tended to by relatives, but as there were hoards of people following their tour guides' umbrellas, I just saw it as another free tourist attraction. The biggest attraction was Evita´s tomb, although it wasn´t as memorable as others on the grounds.
My last tour in Argentina was to a town just north of Buenos Aires called Rosario. It wasn´t the most alluring town albeit I enjoyed my walk around. There were some interesting monuments and the museum accommodated my lack of Spanish. I even made it to the beach along the river
Mary Christmas
She was a charmer, even though I didn't understand anything he said! front to watch a bit of eye candy playing volleyball. Regardless of these attractions, the first few lines of any guidebook will all mention one fact. Rosario is the birthplace of Che Guevara. He seems to be the face that everybody knows, but they don´t know who he is. I had hoped to learn a bit more of his revolutionary life (other than having watched The Motorcycle Diaries) but found all that all I could do was walk by his boyhood home. His picture is painted on a few walls and on a few posters, sometimes as a Bart Simpson caricature.
So that´s it, my time in Argentina has been everything I had hoped for. Buenos Aires is a city full of life and culture and I wouldn´t expect to top it anywhere else in South America. Although, the next trip has a few more delights in it as I meet up with family in Rio for the holidays!
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pleasure
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viva argentina
hi...happy new year....what stories you will have forever more....just like uncle roger at carrie's! I definitely want to go to argentina i got a tremendous vibe just seeing the photos....you can feel the energy and spirit of the place and the people.....bye for now....when does this conclude and when am i going to see you? email a message to me if you get the chance.....