Under an ominous gray sky we made our way to Colonia's port to catch a ferry to Buenos Aires. A torrential downpour began shortly after we'd made it safely inside and, as the storm launched into its full fury, I found myself having flashbacks of the crossing from Pontal do Sul to Ilha do Mel. Luckily the massive ferry virtually neutralized any choppiness conjured by the storm and the clouds began to break as we neared the Argentine shoreline an hour later.
The juxtaposition between the Buenos Aires skyline and that of quaint Colonia behind us really can not be overstated. Something akin to viewing a mammoth beside a dormouse. The tranquil countryside of Uruguay quickly faded into distant memory as we surveyed the urban forest of skyscrapers and re-tuned our ears to drown out the vociferous pulse of another megalopolis; around 12 million people, a third of Argentina's total population, are concentrated in the greater metropolitan area of Buenos Aires.
We'd booked a private apartment
and were really looking forward to having an entire living space to ourselves
for a while. It was in the neighborhood of Boedo, away from the typical
touristy areas of Palermo, Recoleta, and San Telmo. Hence, it was relatively
quieter and offered a more authentic look at the day-to-day life of
porteños,
as the locals are called. (In case you're wondering, day-to-day life involves a lot of time
spent in cafes, nursing an espresso or cortado while animatedly expressing
opinions about national politics,
futbol, the weather, etc.)
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| Gorgeous sunset colors seen from our apartment window. |
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View from the balcony of our small studio apartment in Boedo, Buenos Aires.
Not terribly exciting but we could see some futbol games in the covered, two-storey field house visible in the middle of this shot. |
The thing we were most looking forward to was reconnecting with two particular
porteñas, Sabri and Andrea, whom
we'd met at the Cuyabeno River Lodge in Ecuador last February. Sabri invited us
to hang out with her and her friends the evening of the day following our arrival.
We awoke that morning to discover the apartment was suffering a catastrophic
failure of technology; we had no internet and the land line was dead too. I
charged upstairs to let the building manager know but he was already aware and, shrugging, told me the whole building was down. Someone would come fix it
mas tarde ("later"). More shrugging. Fortunately, as with
most South American cities, Buenos Aires has a plethora of
locutorios - kiosks with phone booths and internet stations. We scampered down the block to the nearest one and were able to contact Sabri and sort out a plan to meet later in the day.
Sabri insisted on meeting us a
few blocks from our apartment while it was still light out since she was
worried about us walking around Boedo at night. We hadn't felt unsafe in our
neighborhood and, frankly, consider ourselves rather seasoned travelers by this
point, but figured we'd better heed the advice of a local. Thus, we had our little reunion at the corner of Boedo and Rivadavia while there was still plenty of
light to keep any nefarious porteños at bay.
A few strolls and a bus
ride later we arrived at Sabri's friends' apartment in Belgrano. Dany and her
husband German (pronounced HAIR-man),
had moved to Buenos Aires from Quito, Ecuador fairly recently. We quickly
ascertained that they must've belonged to Quito's small proportion of
upper-class citizens; Dany is a dentist and German a doctor of radiology.
German was working an evening shift but Dany welcomed us into their condo, giving us a tour and
proudly showing off photos of their recent wedding. The four of us made a trip to the
grocery store to pick up supplies and then Sabri and I made a cheesecake
together. It was fun!
Sabri's other friends trickled in
over the next few hours: Susana, labor rights lawyer and self-ascribed gym
addict, Augustina, colleague of Sabri's at university (they are studying
archaeology - how cool is that!?), Jonatan, boyfriend of Augustina who spoke no
English, a boisterous Columbian diva and physiotherapist (in that order, trust
me), and Diego, boyfriend of diva and software programmer (also in that order).
I might be missing someone but I think that was all that night. It was a fun
group. We sat around the dining table, munching popcorn, chips and the
Argentine equivalent of "pigs in a blanket," conversing in two
languages (and sometimes a hybrid of both) until it was sufficiently late
enough to be Argentine dinner-time (after 10pm). After a heated debate on what
to order in (they call it "asking in"), we decided on empanadas.
Chris and I were fighting back yawns by the time the food arrived but we gorged
ourselves nonetheless.
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| Our dinner party - photo credit: Jonatan. |
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| Dany, Chris, me, and Sabri. |
Dinner was followed by some impromtu salsa dancing in
the small living room (Chris and I were genially permitted to remain
spectators) and then began the drawn out process of leaving to go out
somewhere. I swear, we were
vamosing
for at least an hour before we actually made it out the door. By that time
(after midnight) Chris and I were noticeably fading, struggling to keep our
eyes open and assuming the roles of observers rather than participants in the
conversation. With the exception of Dany who decided to stay in and wait for
German to get off from his shift, the others were just revving up for the night.
Midnight for Argentineans (native or foreign integratee) is analogous to about
10 pm for North Americans (excluding Las Vegas). Our bars close by 2 or 3 am. In
Buenos Aires they close at 5 or 6 am. Sometimes later.
Chris and I decided to go out for
at least a drink and soon found ourselves in an ostensibly Country &
Western themed bar. There was no dance floor so we figured out pretty quickly
that the group had chosen this venue for our benefit rather than their own
preference. It was very nice of them as we'd actually been secretly dreading
getting pulled onto the dance floor if we went out. Sabri, ever the supreme
hostess, ordered an interesting cocktail of melon liqueur and an energy drink
similar to Red Bull that she and I shared. The bar was packed and I got quite
caught up in people-watching despite my drowsiness. Eventually Chris and I
decided we'd better let our new friends get on their way to a dance club and
get ourselves into bed. We'd had a great time but definitely had not yet
adapted to the Argentine schedule of late-nights! Sabri, our Argentine mom (she
admitted it), insisted on putting us in a radio taxi and even ordered the
driver to drive cautiously before we departed. He didn't obey.
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| A little bit of shenanigans in the entryway to the "country" bar. |
The next morning we met up with
Sabri, Andrea, Dany, and German to go to Tigre, a sort of suburb of Buenos
Aires that's popular with
porteños seeking a chill afternoon out
of main city. Augustina and Jonatan met us there as well. Although the absence
of towering condos and office buildings made it apparent that we were out of
the city proper, the sea of people surrounding us as we disembarked from the train
immediately abolished any illusions I'd had of Tigre being a tranquil retreat
from the city. Nevertheless, it was a really nice riverfront community and we
enjoyed wandering the streets lined with market stalls and interesting shops.
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| Enjoying a parilla with our friends at Tigre. |
Our first stop was at a
parilla (restaurant specializing in
barbecued meat). We shared a very filling spread of different cuts of beef,
fries, and salad. There were also some internal organs on the grill but I
didn't partake. Chris tried the kidney but I wasn't enticed by his less than stellar review.
Nobody at our end of the table touched the tripe. I really don't get what's so appealing about it.... blech.
As we made our way to the
waterfront, Sabri made sure we tried some traditional treats including a sweet
popped corn. We sat along the bank, watching sportboats cut up the water while
those in smaller, human-powered watercraft labored to maintain control in the
violent waves. Then we shared
maté, in the Argentine way (as far as I
can tell, it really only differs from the Uruguayan practice in terms of the
type of
yerba and how the
water is poured into the maté gourd). We hung around until the sun
set and then we packed up for the return home. Another lovely day with friends.
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| Augustina and Jonatan. |
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| Sharing mate at Tigre. Photo credit: Jonatan. |
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| Sabri and I checking out the shops. Or something... |
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| Strolling in Tigre. |
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| Mate time. Apparently I'm telling a really good story here. |
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| German and Dany. |
Our next few days were spent
taking care of some errands and dedicating time to outline a draft itinerary
for our future travel in Patagonia. Our friend Tim and to-be-friend Kayla
will join us there and they only have about 3 weeks so careful planning will be essential. Chris managed to get his camera serviced as Buenos Aires happened
to have a Nikon service center tucked away in an obscure neighborhood (Sabri
was also worried about us going there and advised us to take a taxi instead of
public transportation - we didn't think it looked so sketchy but who knows;
better safe than sorry). What was wrong with the camera, you ask? I know; all his photos have looked amazing so what could possibly be wrong? I guess some spots on the sensor were fouling the photos and Chris was getting mighty tired of meticulously editing them to get rid of the
blemishes. So, Chris's baby was cleaned while we enjoyed lunch at an All Boys
resto-bar (one of Argentina's top professional futbol clubs) and seems to be
functioning properly now.
Another major task on our list was
to scout out camping equipment. Our research had indicated that the
availability of quality gear in South America is hit or miss and often involves
hefty prices compared to buying at home. We searched the internet to identify
some candidate stores and cross-referenced that list with advice from one of
Sabri's friends, deciding our best bet was a chain called Montagne. It took an entire
afternoon and a trip to a second Montagne location but we came away with a
2-person trekking tent, lightweight thermal sleeping bags, sleeping mats, as
well as some extra layers of clothing for me. The best part was that they were
having a promotion that day where all items were 25% off if you paid in cash.
Score! It was still an expensive purchase but we felt good about saving so much
off the regular prices.
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| Our new tent and sleeping bags. Happy campers. In our apartment. |
Our next date with Sabri and friends was for dinner at a restaurant specializing in milanesa. Enough time had passed since
our overdose on milanesa in Esteros del Ibera that we were ready to eat it
again. We arrived a bit early thanks to a failed attempt to visit another
camping store in the area - the sleeping mats we'd bought from Montagne turned
out to be pretty pathetic so we'd decided to hunt for something better. Sabri
hadn't arrived by our planned meeting time but we weren't concerned. More time
went by and I caught the server eyeing my empty coffee cup, seeming to question whether we
were in fact meeting a group of friends as I'd told him when we arrived. The
other available tables were filling up and our mostly empty 6-seater was fast
becoming prime real estate. I went for a bathroom break and returned to find
Chris chatting with a random Argentine guy. Turned out he wasn't random at all - he was a
friend of Sabri's that lived close to the restaurant and she had called him
because she was running late and wanted him to go find us to let us know. Haha!
Apparently it wasn't hard to spot the gringos in the crowd...
Sabri arrived not long afterwards
along with a friend who was originally from La Paz. I think his name was Juan
Carlos... We ordered drinks and a selection of gourmet milanesas to share. They
looked spectacular when they arrived but I couldn't eat more than a bite. Tragically, I'd
started feeling poorly earlier in the day and things escalated during the time we were
waiting for Sabri and friends to arrive. I was suddenly overcome with terrible
aches and shaking chills so we had to leave kind of abruptly. Sabri insisted that we take all the remaining food and waited for a taxi with us, fretting over my sudden illness like a mother.
Overnight I developed a fever and
a few other symptoms that I won't go into detail about. It was awful and it
wasn't gone by the next morning. I spent the entire day in bed. Chris took care of me, forcing me to eat a little something and refilling our 'camel'
water bag that he'd converted into a makeshift hot water bottle. He even
bought some flowers to help cheer me up. Sadly, I wasn't recovered enough
to partake in the evening's activities - our friends Colin and Michelle were in
town! We'd last seen them (unexpectedly) in Salta and then parted ways as we
headed in opposite directions for the next month or so. As fate would have it,
our itineraries lined up again with an overlap in Buenos Aires! Chris went out
alone that night to meet up with them in San Telmo where they were staying. I
was disappointed to miss out but was in no shape for socializing.
I was somewhat better the next
morning but still suffering some lingering effects of whatever bug had got me. Chagrined
at the thought of spending yet another day in bed, I mustered my strength and
decided to go along with Chris to meet Sabri and her friends Veronica, Pincha
(nickname), and their son Ignacio (referred to as Nacho) at La Feria Mataderos
(a market). In fact, it was Pincha who approached us first, asking if we knew
Sabri. Turned out she was running late again and had sent him a photo of Chris
so Pincha could track us down in the crowd. Oh Sabri...
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| Musicians playing traditional folkloric music on a small outdoor stage at La Feria Matderos. |
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| Veronica, "Nacho", and Pincha. |
The marketplace was an explosion of Argentine
culture with live music and traditional dancing in the street alongside stalls
proffering a variety of handicrafts, baked goods, meats and cheeses, spices and
herbs, ornamental plants, and traditional Argentinean foods like
choripan (basically a chorizo hot dog)
and
locro (a hearty soup of corn,
beans, ham, bacon, potatoes, etc). Sabri had made a traditional dessert called
tarta ricotta - a pastry filled with
ricotta flavored with lemon and vanilla. It was delicious. Everything was
delicious! We managed to find just a few more items to send home as gifts for
family. AND Sabri helped us pick out a good maté gourd and bombilla. An artisan engraved the metal casing of our gourd while we watched.
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| Artisan engraving our newly purchased mate gourd. |
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| A rare photo of our usual photographer. |
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| Another rare photo. Sabri insisted on taking a photo of us together. Turned out nice! |
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| Sabri and Nacho horsing around in the market. |
We returned home in the late
afternoon and, despite some weariness on my part, met Colin and Michelle for
dinner at a cafe near our apartment. It was great to see them again and catch
each other up on our respective adventures (though I imagine some of that had
already been covered the previous night when I was absent). We kept it to an
early night, agreeing to go out "for real" once I was feeling fully
back to normal.
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| View from a plaza in Buenos Aires. |
On our way back home we stopped
at another camping store and managed to find some good self-inflating mats to
replace the crappy ones we'd originally bought. Now we're basically set for
camping with the exception of cooking gear. The plan is to find some used gear
when we get more into the areas where camping is popular. Or rent it. In the
meantime we will use camping as a cheaper alternative for accommodation but
still have to go out to eat if there aren't self-catering facilities.
With our time in Buenos Aires swiftly coming to an end we made plans to see Colin and Michelle one last time and have a
proper night out. We chose a Palermo restaurant specializing in Armenian food for
a change from the usual parillas that
we'd been overindulging in. Chris and I arrived a bit early to discover a long
lineup of people wrapping around the corner of the restaurant. Unsure of what
was going on, we got in line while we tried to figure it out. Turned out
that the restaurant was about to open and we were amongst all the people who
hadn't made a reservation and therefore were queuing to ensure they got a table. So it was
serendipitous that we arrived early! Colin and Michelle joined us a while later
after an unfortunate detour due to miscalculating the location of the
restaurant. All was well though because they arrived just as the waiter
delivered several scrumptious appetizers that Chris and I had taken the liberty
of ordering while we waited. Olives, feta cheese, tabouleh, and a cured meat
dish similar to steak tar-tar. For our main courses Chris and I shared eggplant
stuffed with seasoned meat and Colin and Michelle split a pair of lamb and
veggie skewers, which they also shared with us. Everything was delicious. Oh and of course we had a few bottles of malbec.
From our dinner venue we walked a
few blocks to a simple, unsigned building where we knew there was a trendy wine
and whiskey bar. It was the perfect spot to relax and visit over a bottle of
wine for Michelle and I (...okay mostly for me) and beer and whiskey for the
boys. Not too long after we'd arrived I started feeling a bit off and more tipsy than was justified by the
amount I'd had to drink - probably was still recovering from whatever sickness I'd had
and should've been taking it easier on the tummy/liver. We called it a night
after making plans to reconnect some day in Europe or Canada or wherever in the
world we might cross paths again. What a great couple! We were so lucky to get
paired with them for that tour in Bolivia and then to have the chance to see
them a few more times along our journey. (Sadly we have no photos of our time with Col and Shell because it wasn't practical for Chris to bring the camera along to those outings. You'll just have to trust us that they exist and are really awesome.)
For our final day in Buenos Aires
we visited the Recoleta neighborhood and spent an hour or so meandering various pathways through the incredible cemetery. It's similar to Père-Lachaise cemetery in Paris
though the main attractions here are political figures (eg. Eva Peron) rather than
artists, philosophers, writers and musicians. Both cemeteries have a serious
cat infestation (speaking of the cats... want an interesting read? Check out
Waiting
for Gertrude: A Graveyard Gothic by Bill Richardson). Despite the inherent melancholy
of wandering through a graveyard it wasn't hard to appreciate the stoic beauty
of the hundreds of marble mausoleums. A wide variety of architectural styles have
been used including Art Deco, Art Nouveau, Baroque, and Neo-Gothic. Truly
impressive in a somber sort of way. I definitely couldn't deny my own morbid curiosity,
creeping up to peer through the iron bars of a few vaults and imagining the
slowly decaying corpses only a few feet away in the wooden caskets. A very
pleasant way to spend the afternoon!
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| Recoleta cemetery. |
We spent the rest of the
afternoon strolling down Avenida 9 de Julio, one of the widest streets in the
world. There are up to seven lanes in each direction and then there are parallel
two-lane streets flanking the main avenue on both sides. It reminded me of
Paris's Champs-Élysées, although I'd have to say its far less grand. We walked all the way to the congressional
buildings and watched some protesters belt out their malcontent to the boom of
large drums, doing their damndest to drown out the already raucous sound of
Buenos Aires's rush hour.
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| Congress Building of Argentina. |
For our final night in the city
we met up with Sabri, Andrea, Veronica, Pincha, Nacho, and Susana for a
fabulous parilla. I cannot say enough
about how wonderful a hostess Sabri was for our entire time in Buenos Aires.
She really welcomed us into her circle of friends and showed us more of
Argentine culture than we ever would've experienced without her invitations and
great recommendations. We hope that someday she'll visit Canada so we can
attempt to return the generosity!
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