Two Weeks in the Paris of South America...

Well, we´re wrapping up our time in Argentina...not to mention South America. Although we have both had a wonderful time on this continent, I think we are also both ready to move on to something new. (Truth be told, I´m getting a little homesick too. Having been away from the people and things I love for months is extremely challenging and would be downright unbearable without Heidi.) On Thursday morning we´ll arrive in Johannesburg for another round of culture shock, and a trek that should take us, overland, from South Africa to Nairobi in about 10 weeks.

Since arriving in Buenos Aires we have been the guests of Chelsea and Ale, and they have been more than accommodating to our every need. (For those of you who don´t know, Chelsea is a friend from back home who moved down here about a year ago after falling for her very dreamy Porteño, Alejandro. He and I first met nearly two years ago when he came up to Minnesota to stay with Chelsea for six months.)

Grub

One of the things that stands out most about Argentine culture, especially in the glamorous metropolis of BA, is the cuisine. The majority of Porteños take their dining experiences very seriously, and as such the majority of restaurants have white linen table service with bow-tie clad waiters. Even at your typical pzza and pasta joint the experience is much more than just one for the taste buds. Unfortunately, the added quality of service, and attention to detail with the meals, adds to the final price. Dining out here is nearly as expensive as it is in the U.S., although you will get more bang for your buck down here...most of the time.

Since arriving we have feasted on baked Keppe at a Middle-Eastern restaurant, had McDonald´s delivered, licked our fingers after devouring pizza with palm hearts, and eaten some fabulous steak that our host prepared for us. Beyond that, we have sampled more amazing flavours of ice cream, from artisanal heladerias (ice cream shoppes), than I care to mention in this blog. The food has been outstanding, and much better than anything we experienced in either Peru or Bolivia. Like I said, there is a price to pay for the higher quality...and that affects the bottom line (not to mention my attitude since I can be a little Scrooge-like while we are on such a tight budget.)

The Cafe

We also ate a very hearty, and tasty lunch, at a cafe run by Ale and his sister, Anahi. The two of them just took over the joint about six months ago but seem to be doing well for themselves. It´s in a business district and serves up coffee, medialunas, and some lunchtime fare to busy executives from early morning to early evening during the week. The food was good and the atmosphere is clean and modern. My only suggestion would be to raise the prices, as some of the stuff is priced considerably lower than it is at neighboring eateries.

A Piece of America

On our first full day here we took a trip to the US embassy, in order to have pages added to our passports. (Although we both have a number open right now, the State Department advises travellers to African nations to have lots of open spaces for visas. Some tourists have been denied entry to a country for not having THREE clean pages!) While the process was rather quick it was pretty disappointing to learn that the fee is $82/pp, as opposed to the price from just a few months ago, when it was Free-99. But, what´s a guy to do? Although sitting in the embassy was a rather unimpressive experience, it was unique to have a man with clear English help us, and to see all the red, white and blue throughout the place. I rejoiced in sitting in a little piece of America, lamenting only that it lacked the Mountain Dew and overweight majority that I have come to miss back home.

Turistas

As for being tourists, we have done plenty of that too. We got a tour of the House of Congress which, while impressive from the outside, is totally worth skipping. From there we walked down the main drag to the Pink House, the South American version of our White House. The feminine-hued building was the site of national mourning only days earlier, as former president and sitting first-husband, Nestor Kircher passed away the day we arrived in Capital Federal. In San Telmo we window shopped among numerous antiques, and peeped out a Russian Orthodox church, built with materials shipped over from the Motherland. We were amongst a handful of tourists at the tomb of Evita Peron at the famous, and beautiful, Recoleta Cemetery. The four of us strolled amongst the waterways, skyscrapers and fancy restaurants of Puerto Madero, sipping on overpriced drinks as the sun set behind us. And we, quite literally, smelled the roses on a stroll through El Rosedal not to be confused with the mall in the St. Paul suburb.

The Countryside

We also got out of town on two occasions. First, Heidi and I took a two-hour bus ride out to San Antonio de Areco, a quite little town about 70 miles outside of the city. There we checked out a traditional gaucho estancia and marvelled at the spectacular works of the multitude of silversmiths throughout the peaceful village. The weather was perfect and it was nice to get away from the hustle and bustle of the city, if only for an afternoon. (Sadly, we timed our visit poorly, missing the Fiesta de la Tradicion by only a day. There we would have seen gaucho demonstrations and people all geared up in the traditional clothes of yesteryear.)

The following day all four of us, and Ale´s bud Christian, took a train out to Tigre, a town that many Porteños visit for weekend getaways. The place is along the river and many residents live in neighborhoods along a series of waterways throughout the delta region. We spent that afternoon just strolling about and checking out the things for sale at the rather large weekend market. Unfortunately, the wares available were more geared towards the BA resident looking to add some pizzaz to their home decor, rather than the gringo tourist looking for a cool bracelet.

Illin´

Sadly, we have slowed down a bit over the past few days, as Heidi has been battling an upper respiratory illness. My self-diagnosis is a non-contagious strain of bronchitis brought on by the city´s pollution and abundance of cigaretter smokers. (She seems to be improving but we plan to get a professional´s opinion if she has not improved by tomorrow. We actually went to the hospital today, but only the ER was open due to a municipal holiday. A doctor there said only people needing immediate medical attention should wait.)

Ganked

The day we went to the embassy I also withdrew 800 pesos, equivalent to about $200. Chelsea was nervous about me carrying around that kind of cash, stating that our next stop was in a bit of a sketchy neighborhood. I told her I´d take some of the loot out of my wallet before that and place it somewhere else...just in case. Well, as we waited in the embassy I took out the majority of the cash and put it in a zippered pocket close to my chest. I also put my credit card there, but put it back in my wallet a short time later, after convincing myself it was much ado about nothing. Of course I didn´t feel that way after three punks on the subway relieved my of the wallet and its contents.

The subway was pretty busy, and bodies were definitely touching as the train sped from station to station. Two stops before our final destination three kids got on the train, clapping and singing as they embarked and shuffled right over to me. Suddenly they stopped with all of the noise. A minute later we got off and I, being the paranoid type, checked the pants pocket which held my wallet and Heidi and my passports. It had been secured with a zipper and velcro flap. The zipper was open...and the wallet gone! As we reviewed the situation Chelsea said she heard one of the kids say, "It´s mine," no doubt talking about my cheddar. Although I was pretty pissed about the situation, I was glad that they left the passports and that Chelsea advised me to move the majority of my money elsewhere. All told, the kids got the equivalent of about $25. I called my bank and canceled the credit card as soon as we got back to Chelsea and Ale´s crib. (I have a different bank card, for just such a situation, so we still have access to cash. What sucks is that the card that got stolen charged no ATM fees and actually REFUNDED thoses from other banks. So, now I have to pay about $10 in service fees for every withdrawal, as opposed to $0 with my stolen Charles Schwab card.)

Nightlife

For most Argentines, dinner is between 9pm and midnight. As such, they get a later start on the evening than I am accustomed to. As a result of the later start, they also have a much later finish, as Heidi and I experienced the night we went out with Ale, Chelsea and (their friend) Becky for some Halloween parties on the Saturday before the 31st.

I think we ended up leaving for the first party around midnight. It was heavily attended by expats, and they were in full swing by the time we arrvied. We hung out there for about two hours, mainly sticking to ourselves, drinking beer, dancing and eating cookies before heading to the club...a little after 2am! After paying our entry fees we slowly made our way through the throngs of revellers down to the dance floor. At that point we were two floors underground, among thousands of drunk and sweaty Argetines, and all I could think is that we would certainly die in the event of a fire. (Tragically, nearly 200 people died, and hundreds more were hurt in a club fire here in BA less than six years ago, causing the auhorities to crack down --at least a little-- on dangerous clubs.)

After grabbing our drinks we moved up one floor, as the dance level was so packed it was nearly impossible to move, let alone get your groove on. On the upper floor we had some wiggle room and just kind of chilled out, dancing the night away. When we finally emerged from the joint we were greeted by daylight. It was very surreal walking the streets of Buenos Aires at 7am on a Sunday morning exhausted and in costume.

Culture

We also attended a couple of Avant-garde performances while in BA. The first was a tribal dance show, which a friend of theirs was performing in. Honsetly, the show was not very good at all, and I dozed off a couple of times. It seemed to be a group of women, who enjoy being looked at, putting together rather boring dance routines and performing them to tribally-influenced club music, all the while wearing somewhat scandalous clothing.

The second show was much better. Bruta Fuerza is a traveling show which is sort of an extra-sensory acid trip. The entire audience is stuffed into a relatively small room and the show begins with a man on a stage in the center of the crowd. As the show progresses different stages open up in other areas of the room, forching the audience to move. Water is sprayed down on the spectators and some performers even come within inches of the crowd, via a see-through stage that drops from the ceiling above. It´s unlike anything I have ever seen, although a bit like Cirque Du Soleil. It was certainly entertaining and worth the price of addmission, although I much prefer the 60 peso ($15) price to the $80/ticket being charged in NYC right now.