Beyond Evita

Beyond Evita

A wall of heat hits me as I get off the plane in Buenos Aires: only 7am and already 30 degrees, the humidity off any scale I’d previously experienced. My friend, Clara, had promised me a country of extremes: glaciers in the south, desert landscapes in the north, vast expanses of land owned by ‘cowboys’ and at the same, the second most populated capital of South America. But what would I find in this city to take me beyond the clichés of Evita, tango and the infamous beef?

Buenos Aires prides itself on being the Paris of the Southern Hemisphere. Passing the slums on the way from the airport, it doesn’t feel like that. In any case, my attention is mostly taken up by understanding my taxi driver; his Spanish matches the speedometer as we squeal in and out of traffic. He tells me the government is ún desastre’. He should know: he studied Politics at University and lost all his savings in the crash of 2001.

He drops me at my hotel of choice, one of the many boutique hotels that have sprung up in Buenos Aires over the last few years, catering for the steady flow of Brazilian tourists. I’ve chosen to stay in Palermo, specifically, Palermo Soho (there’ also a Palermo Hollywood). This barrio is an example of the duality of this city for me: it’s clearly a neighbourhood which has árrived’ with its smart cafes and delis yet the pavements are pitted and buildings are crumbling. Appearance is important, as evidenced by the designer shops, high rates of anorexia and the fact that Buenos Aires has the most plastic surgeons per capita in the world. This intensity and paranoia is most clearly seen in the Yellow Pages listings for psychotherapists: Buenos Aires ties with New York for the distinction of being the city with the most psychotherapists. Certainly my Argentine friends talk about visiting their therapist as easily as they talk about going to their dentist.

For all their interior drama, it is the passion with which they live their lives that is evident in every restaurant, cafe, bar and football stadium. It’s not all gloom and doom here, otherwise tourism wouldn’t have increased by over 70% between 2003-2010 (figures: the Tourism Ministry of Argentina). In fact, you’ll need to pace yourself to keep up with their lust for life; most Argentines wouldn’t dream of having dinner before 10pm and don’t even think of sneaking away until 1am.

To end my trip, I go to Cronico bar in Plaza Serrano with its faded movie posters and cheap beer to mull over this city’s growing appeal. There’s so much about Argentina that is well-known: its football heroes, its beef and its tango heritage, and yet it’s the warmth and tenacity of this city that has really got under my skin. For all its external glamour, there’s a genuineness and honesty that might keep you hanging around for a while.