It
was a bit disorientating in the taxi at first. The street names
didn't seem familiar and I had lost my sense of direction. Gradually
Buenos Aires started to reveal itself as we approached our rented
apartment on Rodriguez Pena and Sarmiento, near the high and somehow
skinny dome of Congresso. Once the contracts were signed and check-in
completed we unpacked properly for the first time in 2 months and
stepped outside to explore the city that had been home 10 years ago.
The
obelisk, centred at the crossing of 9 de Julio, all 28 lanes of it
and Corrientes. Lavalle and Florida the pedestrianised streets with
parrillas with whole sides of beef roasting away in front of the
embers, tango dancing buskers and curiously a chap miming to Robbie
Williams and selling CDs of “himself” singing Robbie songs. Up to
Plaza San Martin with its ancient gnarled trees and view down to the
Torre de los Ingleses which looks a little bit like Big Ben. There
was a full moon to greet us. Of all the things I remembered about
Buenos Aires: 24/7, hectic, enormous, complicated, great craic,
amazing food ... the thing I seemed to forget was how beautiful it
is.
The
flat was great, a clean, well equipped studio, walking distance from
everywhere (that's a lie, Baires is way too big for anywhere to be
like that. It was “central”). It felt so refreshing to have our
own keys, landline, fridge and all the trappings of domestic life
such as not having to get dressed actually in the shower.
On
our first morning we had some submarinos (hot milk with a
stir-it-yourself bar of chocolate) in the corner cafe. Cafes are
ubiquitous and always very good quality. A leisurely stroll the 40 or
so blocks to San Telmo via SA Explorers to pick up a package and hang
out and get informed. It was somewhat disappointing that they were
moving house/office down the street and was a mess of half packed
boxes and all the staff seemed to be on the internet, not half as
helpful or pleasant as in Lima or Cusco. Also strange was a large
halo effect around the sun as we wandered the streets, clear in the
cloudless sky. We grabbed a few tasty empanadas from a kiosko and
munched them sitting in Plaza Dorrego, the busker music wafting
before heading north.
The
Pink House is where the presidente lives, actually spending most of
her time in her leafier Olivos residence. Plaza de Mayo, home to
permanent protests about anything from taxes to hunger to the mothers
of the disappeared who still protest their sons disappearance almost
30 years after the unmarked cars took them away. As we walked through
the plaza past the casada rosada another protest was in full flight.
9 de Julio's junction with the Autopista had been blocked by truckers
all morning and the city was already gridlock when yet another noisy
march banged, whistled and shouted its way along the Diagonal to join
its competitor. Subte drivers had gone on a wildcat strike and the
heaver than usual Friday evening traffic was going nowehere. The
portenos really know how to protest, another thing I had forgotten.
Good job the flat was central.
Off
to Palermo that night to have a drink with Holly, an old friend I had
last seen in Dublin when she was backpacking around Europe. When I
lived in BA before there was palermo and Palermo Viejo. Now there was
Palermo Hollywood and Palermo Soho to contend with. Holly took a
raincheck and we chatted to the locals who confirmed that it was all
a bit more upmarket than 10 years before.
The
152 collectivo took us down to La Boca the next afternoon after an
excellent cheap as chips pork chops and mash brunch in a place 1
block down. La Boca is the poorest neighbourhood in Capital Federal
and is home to la Bombonera, Boca Junior's blue and yellow spritual
home and the location of some of Maradona's most memorable football.
Nearby, colourful, uber-touristy Caminito with its open air Tango
resto-shows and Diego lookalikes touting comedy photos. Boca had the
last game of the season the following day and I had unsurprisingly
failed to get tickets so we did a stadium tour instead. Maradona has
his own yellow bench in the posh boxes, all the others blue.
Interesting to see the player's communal showers and tub, just a tiny
bit dingier than expected. Neither of us that fanatical at being back
on the tourist trail though ... dislike of oblivious holidaymakers
growing.
Finally
managed to meet up with Holly in the evening, at a local parrilla (of
course) in Belgrano who invited us to a party.
We
were expecting a house party with comfy couches and ambient jazz
music. Maybe some dips. After about an hour in the car, way out into
the countryside and off-road a little we walked into a very well
organised rave in the woods complete with lasers and a full bar.
There was a little lake nearby, Claire got totally savaged by
mosquitos and we got home well after dawn after a great night. There
is a an Argentenian movie set inu Buenos Aires titled “In one night
anything can happen – Buenos Aires kills me”. It's true.
Predictably
we had a lazy Sunday watching bootleg Prince Caspian and Quantum of
Solace that I picked up for $4 each on Corrientes before struggling
out to a Pizza place for hair of the dog and to watch Boca win, which
meant there was a three way tie at the top of the table which would
have to be decided in 3 more games.
You
can buy pretty much anything you can think of wholesale in Once
(on-say), called “eleven” because an important battle took place
there on the the eleventh of something or other. Once got us out of
the house on Monday. I picked up some souvenirs and gifts. Then we
hit an internet cafe to catch up with the world and do a few chores,
upload some photos, get some phone numbers. At one point Claire asked
me over to her PC for a sec to help her out with something. I was
away for no more than 20 seconds. Somehow, probably because I had
lots of papers, cables and gadgets on the desk I didn't notice at the
time but someone swiped my camera and phone from my desk while I was
away. Thankfully I had just swapped out the memory card for a fresh
one so didn't lose any photos which spanned lot of Brazil and all of
Uruguay. The only reason the phone was on the desk was because I had
topped up the credit and I had received a confirmation text. When we
got home I reached into my pocket for it and realised what had
happened. I ran back down to the cybercafe but of course the thief
was high and dry. I'm so glad I swapped out the memory card but the
ones on the phone were gone. At least we would be able to manage with
Claire's camera until the insurance claim could come through.
PS
there is a timelag on the blog so if you want my new number please
contact me below.
