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Published: February 3rd 2010
Ok, I can't promise that that will be my last bad pun for the year. In all honesty, given the paucity of my sense of humour, anyone reading this blog should be glad of a few bad puns here and there.
(Of course, this being Marc's blog, and with the title Random Remarcs, I feel that I should make note of the fact that Gabriel Garcia Marquez is actually Columbian and I'm currently at least half a continent from his birth nation. Despite the fact that I love his novels, I'll try and refrain from any more Gabe comments...I reserve my right to change this if, in the middle of some pandemic, I do happen to meet my significant other. Ferries may also need to be involved. :-) )
A couple of points; think of them as your pre-flight safety brief:
I'll do my best to update this once a week. I can't promise that I'll do that religiously, especially when I'm in some of the more remote parts of my excursion, but I'll do my best.
Finally, I'm not going to aim for stupendously long entries that amaze you all with the virtuosity of my keys
Buenos Aires Traffic
You take your life into your hands if you drive here.and cursor. I certainly don't aim to be the next Bryson, nor Michael Palin or Ewan MacGregor. Rather, I'll try and let you know the more interesting parts of my journey, along with any horror stories that I can remember. So far we're running a
Marc is a bit of a naif when it comes to travelling-theme.
Enough of the pre-flight safety brief... on with the show.
So, I arrived in Buenos Aires about half an hour before I left Sydney. I wish I'd been able to travel in time like this back when I'd been a lowly engineering student; I might actually remember something. The flight was pretty smooth. There was no massive turbulence, nor any reprises of Lost. Personally I hold that a good thing; there's a lot of water between Sydney and South America and I'm not confident about swimming it!
It has obviously been too long since I've travelled on an international airline. The entertainment options are amazing.
Seriously.
After I'd recovered from the fact that I could watch an entire series of
Top Gear (also known as the correspondence driving school for Buenos Aires... more on that later), and one
Detail of Argentine Architecture
Nothing significant here, I just liked the photo. of
Two and a Half Men (for those who'd forgotten their tranquilisers), I settled down and viewed
The Hurt Locker and
Iron Man... (I went with a theme - men who go gallivanting around in large, cumbersome, protective suits whilst apparently doing good).
Then I started to have a chat with my neighbour.
I began to reconsider that pretty quickly after Brian revealed that he was a nursery owner. I managed to hold back on all those questions about green matter that were bursting to the front of my mind... like ... ummm ... actually I had nothing. Even comments about the weather suddenly took on portentious implications. Anyway, as I was about to see if
500 Days of Summer was any good, he let on that he was actually flying out to Bs As in order to head down to Antarctica.
Much more interesting than plants.
Apparently he has had enough of the green and needed to go somewhere where he wouldn't need to look at anything more herbaceous than lichen. He sounded pretty excited about it. Apparently you head down to Ushuaia and jump on a real ice breaker then sail two days to
La Casa Rosada and Plaza de Mayo
The centre of all things political in Argentina. the great southern continent, jump onto the shore and plant a flag (if they still let you do that sort of thing; it is an Argentine Boat and I've gathered that they are still a little sensitive aboiut sovereignty after the whole Malvinas / Falklands thing). He'd also done a couple of trips on the Sydney-Hobart, so Brian obviously likes being wet and cold. He should be down there by now so I hope he's doing well.
Now, those I spoke to before I left will remember that
no hablo espanyol. I didn't think it would be much of an issue. I was in a big city to start the trip and I'd be doing a week of Spanish lessons before I went anywhere remote. How hard could it be?
I was even lulled into a false sense of security as I arrived in Bs As. All the signs had English translations, the security guards, customs officials and service folks all spoke English, albeit with a slight accent... it was going to be just like going to NZ... or England!
Of course, once I'd decided I'd take the public shuttle bus to my hostel, the problems started.
La Casa Rosada
Presidential Palace. Cue adoring crowds and populist rants... well once upon a time anyway. Everyone inside the terminal spoke english; everyone outside the terminal spoke spanish. That also included the guys at the shuttle bus stand. Along with a couple of English guys, I managed to convince myself that I was on the right shuttle. Well, the driver took our ticket and pointed his finger at the back of the bus, so we jumped on, pulled out the tourist information map I had picked up back in the terminal, and tried to work out where we were and where we were going.
Now, I'm sure my brother is laughing at the thought of me trying to use a map, with all its infomration in Spanish, to orientate myself and work out where I was going. Well, it probably went worse then even he would expect. We arrived at a bus station, none of us any the wiser as to where we were, or even if we were still in Bs As, and promptly had someone official looking tell us to be quiet and sit in the waiting area.
Well, I think that’s what he said. He was talking Spanish so I can’t be sure; he may have been asking if we’d like
Funny Face
This is the sort of decoration you on the inside of La Casa Rosada. a million pesos, but I have my doubts.
As we watched more buses pulling up, dropping more people off, and taking others away, we began to get a little concerned. Where were we and how did we get where we needed to be?
Strike problem two.
How do you explain (in charades) your concern that you seem to have been forgotten and would like to know when you're going to be taken to your hostel. At least I had an address I could point at. My two English acquaintances had made the decision to find a place on arrival, meaning they lacked even an address. I'm sure the staff at the shuttle bus company were equally irritated that we couldn't seem to abide by the (i think it was) request to sit down and wait for the car to take us to our hostel.
Just as I was beginning to think that the 'Disappeared' of the 70s and 80s weren't really lost, they were just still waiting for their shuttle buses at terminals around the counry, I heard someone yelling out the street of my hostel. I followed the voice, found myself being thrown into a
Catedral
The BA Cathedral. The carving on the roof is of Joseph welcoming his brothers in Egypt. tiny little car and, after making the mistake of trying to get in the driver's seat (left hand drive... d’oh), eventually found myself heading towards my destination.
How do you describe driving in Bs As? I can't really. Words fail to describe it. There's a photo down below that perhaps does it justice... but not really. All I can say is that half the cars use the white lines as lane boundaries, 40% use them as centrelines, and the remainder can't seem to see them at all. I think the only thing that saves lives is the fact that most streets are one-way. If you had two-way traffic I'm not sure if even the taxi drivers would dare go out. As it was, I couldn't work out the rules of the road, was a little sceptical about how anyone managed to cross the street, and even think I caught the driver looking a little confused at times.
Of course, that may have been him trying to make sense of where I said I needed to go.
But, eventually I was dropped off on a busy street that, apparently, corresponded to the address I'd given. Having expected something
City Scape
Not much room for passing traffic. a little obvious, I didn't register the quiet little sign for Hostel Rocces and the intercom to request entry. Thankfully, a bunch of Germans turned up and buzzed their way in, so I followed them inside the door and up the stairs
and more stairs
and even more stairs.
Say what you like about low ceilings trapping the heat, but five metre ceilings seem to be taking the piss a little when you have to walk up three stories to the reception, and another two stories to your room. I'm still telling myself that it was good for me. I just can’t seem to agree with myself.
On the positive side, one out of the four folks working at the reception spoke English. Of course, the only day she was at reception was the first day, but it did mean I could check in relatively painlessly. I got told I was being put in a 6-person mixed dorm instead of an 8-guy room and then asked:
There are already two people in your room. Do you have a problem sharing with Israelis? Well, what is the polite response to that question? I mean, it’s
Government House.
Does anyone see a passing likeness to another American building? not like I’m a Palestinian, or a member of some Aryan group. Of course it was ok to share with them.
I’ll be honest, at this point I was just hearing ‘mixed’ dorms and the fact that it was only half full. Jackpot!
Now, for those (like me) who have never had the pleasure of mixed dorms before, they’re far less exciting than you might imagine. Basically they let couples sleep in the same room as each other. Good for them, less good for the non-attached in the room who get to watch/hear them make out with each other.
As for having issues with the Israelis, considering I was about to walk in on them with the world’s largest backpack, it was probably a fair question as to whether they had issues sharing with a backpacker.
Anyway, Shera (I kid you not - that was her name) and Om were both very good value. They’d been travelling for about three months and had travelled pretty much the opposite direction to the way I was heading. Shera’s mother had actually just left Bs As after a flying visit to check on her daughter.
Note: Dad &
Judy, I’m good. There’s no need to check on me.
The room was a little crowded. We eventually ended up with a full house,and all I can say is that six people in a room that is smaller than your average shipping container is a little crowded. On the positive, the five metre ceilings helped in keeping the place cool. Still, I tended to get up early and stay out til it was close to bedtime.
The Hostel also included breakfast.
As a result, I have a confession to make.
I’m an addict.
You may have heard of dulce de leche. Creme caramel. Over here they use it as a breakfast spread and it is GOOD! I’m trying to think of words to sum it up.
Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
Think Homer and Duff beer. Dogs and juicy bones. Schalk Berger and an unprotected eye.
It’s that good. Words do not do it justice. Find some, taste some, then work out how you can secure a lifetime supply. I'm not sure why the DEA is wasting its time with the Cacao farmers of Bolivia... there's a much more pressing concern in Argentina.
Anyway, the hostel
Detail of Argentine Architecture
Nothing significant here, I just liked the photo. was good; clean, reasonably quiet and not too much in the way of annoying persons.
Minus the Brazilian who stayed in the room on the last night.
I'm down with people going out and partying... it's what you do when you're travelling, but when you only step out at 1.30 am and get home at about 7am, well, I think the rest of the room has a right to feel a little aggrieved.
Especially when you fall into the wrong bed, not once, not twice, but three times.
Another random note: I'm not sure how the local portenos manage to make it in to work every morning in Bs As. Dinner kicks off at about 10 every night, and people only start going out at about 1 or 2am. It seems a little crazy to this australiano, but it's the done thing in Bs As. The Brazilian getting home at 7am is more the rule than the exception.
One thing that has struck me about the locals over here. When a guy decides to check out a girl he makes no pretence about it. I've seen a guy stop walking, stare at a girl from
Eva Peron
The story that launched a musical. about 20m away, watch her get close, then swivewl and continue to stare for another 20m or so. Then he just carries on doing whatever it may have been that got interrupted by the pretty girl.
Oh, I'll also note that these guys generally don't wear sunglasses, so it is almost obscenely obvious.
I thought that maybe I was just seeing the pervs of Argentina, but apparently not. It has come up in conversation at the Hostel a couple of times, and the Argentines can't seem to see a problem with it.
I do have to admit, there are a lot of amazing looking people around here. I'd suggest that prolonged exposure to Argentina leaves westerners feeling a little self conscious. Every second man seems to be running around without a shirt on and a sixpack, whilst the ladies all have legs that go on forever.
I've spent a while getting to know my way around the city. In some ways I feel as if I have already seen all of South America; the streets in Bs As centre are all named after American countries and Argentine regions. Oh, and the obligatory dead white generals. The
Presidente Peron
The other half of the story. city itself is amazing. It feels very Euroean, lots of little streets and the architecture is almost parisienne in style. It is probably no coincidence to discover that a lot of the town planning and initial building was done by Italian immigrants. The country does have a bit of an identity crisis... it's far more than just a Spanish offshoot - there are strong English, Italian and even Japanese influences. In fact Bs As got its Japanese Gardens back in the Nineteenth Century, almost a hundred years before Sydney managed to get its Chinese Gardens. It also used to have an England Park, but that got changed after 1981... apparently Argentines hold a griudge longer than the US and freedom fries.
There's a lot of green space around the city and that helps make it seem more picturesque than it would otherwise be. It may have been designed wonderfully in the past but these days Bs As is a little bit of a dogs breakfast. I don't think I've been able to walk a block without discovering areas of pavement that are just, well, missing. Not small areas either; we're talking metres of pavement at a time. Plus a
A Random Antique Store
Saw this as I was passing by and liked the paint job. A very modern looking antique shop. lot of empty shop fronts. Once you get out of the city centre there are also a lot of old tenements and brick shanties. These haven't changed that much since the Italian poor lived in them back in the mid-Nineteenth Century. It's a little strange to go from a charming city to a bit of a hovel inthe space of three blocks.
I did get told that the city was notorious for the dog pooh, but that is one pleasure I haven't noticed. Smoking on the other hand is rife. Having come from Sydney, where I think you are still allowed to smoke so long as you wear a scarlet 'S' and don't go anywhere other people may be, it was a bit of a shock to see people lighting up in supermarkets, restaurants, offices. Pretty much anywhere you can imagine, smoking went on. I have since learnt that a pack of smokes costs about a dollar, so, as one of my old warrant officers said, you almost can't afford not to smoke.
For the Andrew Loyd Webber fans, I have now walked the Pink House's floors and seen the various areas where Eva Peron made speeches, or
A Shop that JUST sells Havaianas
I didn't think you could make money selling only thongs, but there are shops like this everywhere. looked on whilst her husband made speeches... I am a little hazy on the story. The Pink House, less offensively known as La Casa Rosada, is the Presidential Palace of Argentina. Apparently the initial occupant chose to paint it pink in order to symbolise the unification of the Nationalists (White) and Federalists (Red)...
If you don't like that story, the other version is that they used to put animal blood in the plaster to help preserve it (not too sure how effective that is, I can't really remember seeing it recommended in any of my text books).
Talking theatres, the hostel I was staying at is right next door to the Argentine Broadway, Avenida Corrientes. Along a 1km stretch there are about fifteen theatres, even one showing Phantom of the Opera... well, I'm pretty sure it was Phantom, the artwok looked pretty familiar even if the writing was all foreign. I've got a photo of the billboard of the one show I definitely to want to see. Morocho Argentina... Looks, umm, educational! Or perhps another word beginning with 'e'.
The city seems to have a pretty good cultural flavour; they even show opera and ballet on the
Tango is serious... very serious
And you can get hand made shoes!! tv in the subway, which makes a change to the advertainment back in Australia.
At least when the opera is on, I know that no-one else knows what is being said/sung.
The old part of the city is San Telmo and Monserrat. Think funky old buildings, cobblestone streets, homicidal taxi drivers, and lots and lots of statues. There is even a statue of some guy who chose to give up his seat on a life boat for a lady when The American sank. They posed him as if he was about to dive into the water. That is a nasty sense of humour!
San Telmo also happens to be the local antiques centre and has a market at the Plaza Dorrego where you can find all the gear you find at crafts markets around the world... and pocket watches. Lots and lots of antique pocket watches. It makes a change from badly macrame'ed tea cosies. I do get the feeling that some of these watches are genuine antique - ' made in China', otherwise every porteno (that's a local from Bs As) must have had about five of these watches back in the day.
San Telmo
La Bocca
Traditionally the working class part of town, and the birthplace of the Tango. also has an authentic English style pub; Gibraltar. It serves Argentine and some European drops but also does fish and chips and a beef pie. Very English feeling, even down to the misanthropic Pom serving the beer. I did have a few quiet ales there last Saturday, before getting home in time to witness the Brasiliano getting ready to head out.
In fact, as it was my last night in the hostel before starting the homestay and Spanish lessons, I sat up til about 2am with my Israeli friends playing cards. They taught me a new game which I'll have to show Keith and Lizzie when I get home... it is ridiculously simple. It makes Arsehole look like nuclear physics... in fact I thought it was a game that they had just made up whilst travelling. Its called
Hamsarrrrrrrrrrr (heavy on the flem); anyone else heard of it? It's a bit like Uno but the object is to be holding cards that add up to 5 when you go out. And if anyone is under 5 then they win. It is simple, but a little weird.
Anyway, that just about sums up the first week in Bs As
Our is better
These are the La Bocca Bridges. NYE fireworks platforms. (which in case you haven't worked it out yet, is Buenos Aires). Its been fun getting to know the city and it feels like I've been gone from Australia for months, not just ten days. The heat and humidity here is more akin to Townsville than Sydney; you sweat even when you're doing nothing! And no one has air con so you get the opportunity to acclimatise properly rather than the silly way we do it up north.
I'm running a little behind my schedule here. Next blog entry wil be about my trip to Tigre, up in the Rio Plate Delta, and I also plan on talking about my ongoing efforts not to mangle Spanish. So that'll probably be the next couple of entries, just so I catch up to where I am now. I've got a trip to Iguazu planned and also one to Mendoza, before I fly down to Ushuaia on Feb 9. That will mean I'll have actually seen quite a bit more of Argentina than I had planned.
Til then...
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Bill Becker
non-member comment
Ah Yes. Buenos Aires.
It seems not all that long ago (though it was around 16years ago now) that your family drove me to the airport in Sydney and I flew out to Buenos Aires. Reading your blog definitely rekindled memories of dulce de leche, four way intersections (where the first car to honk has the right of way) and cobblestone roads. I remember visiting a number of the places you mentioned. Continue to enjoy yourself and stay safe. Let me know your US travel plans. I just may be up for running around a while. It looks like you'll be coming in via San Diego or Los Angeles (I'd suggest San Diego) before heading up to Vegas. I'd be happy to come pick you up down there, take you to Vegas and then on up to Denver (where my parents would be ecstatic I decided to visit). Let me know.