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On our first pass through Buenos Aires, prior to our ascent of Mt. Aconcagua, Jeff and I stuck to the tourist destinations - Recoleta Cemetery, La Florida shopping district, plazas, gardens. These types of tourist destinations can be beautiful and entertaining, but really don't convey much about the porteņos - the local residents of Buenos Aires. On our return, we were determined to infiltrate the social scene. |
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Our flight from Ushuaia to Buenos Aires took us through the city of El Calafate. This tiny airport serves as the launch point to see the famous Perito Moreno glacier - a dramatic wall of ice that shears off into Lake Argentino. During our brief layover, we looked up to see Cyril and Bertrand boarding the plane - the same adorable couple that joined us on the tour to Island "H" in Ushuaia. Indicator number one that it's a small, small world. We exchanged greetings in the Parisian tradition (kiss left, kiss right) and made arrangements to meet up for dinner late that evening. Bertrand's job brings him to Buenos Aires monthly, so he's quite knowledgeable about the social scene. At the Chueca bar where we dined that evening, he knew a number of the patrons, as well as the owner, who gave us a discount on our meal and bar tab. All in all, the late night social scene isn't what it used to be. Just prior to our first arrival in the city, a fire broke out in a Buenos Aires nightclub, killing 192 people and injuring hundreds more. When Jeff and I passed throught the city in early January, we saw several fire victims who were bandaged and burned. As a result of the tragedy, many of the big nightclubs have closed down with no expectation of reopening. For years, the clubs have been lax about meeting city regulations and fire codes. In fact, one of the most popular dance clubs has been registered with the city as a community swimming pool for more than a decade. The bars that remained open were packed. One night, Jeff and I stood in line outside of a club for two hours, only to find the dance floor filled with tables and chairs in an attempt to regulate the patron density. Regardless, we met dozens of incredible people - both locals and other tourists - and thoroughly enjoyed staying up until dawn on a couple of occasions. Prior to our ascent of Mt. Aconcagua, Jeff and I stayed at the Dos Congresos Hotel - a narrow building with compact little rooms that have seen better days. On our return, Jeff did some research on the Internet that landed us at Hotel Lyon, a great find with vaulted windows and ceilings and a suite so extensive it requires a doorbell. The entry foyer of our room opened into the main living area with a grand bedroom on the right and a smaller guest bedroom on the left. All this for about $16 per person per night - less than my Boston rent. |
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Traffic is Buenos Aires is something of a nightmare. Stop signs and stoplights are to be considered as suggestions, as are speed limits and lane dividers. A taxi trip can be a harrowing adventure. During our last two days in the city, the subway workers were on strike, making the traffic particularly bad. Thankfully, Jeff and I walked almost everywhere - typically 10 to 15km a day - so this didn't affect our plans. On Sunday, Plaza Dorrego in the San Telmo district transforms into a bustling flea market with street performers, artists, and hundreds of antique shops. You can buy everything you've never wanted, and everyone who's noone shows up for this event that's just as much about socializing as it is about shopping. After spending a couple of hours wandering the aisles between the canvas-topped booths, Jeff and I settled in at a small cafe where we had a leisurely lunch of steak and fries while picking out the tourists and speculating about where they were from. |
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On several occasions, Jeff and I tried to visit some of the local museums, but we were almost always thwarted in our attempts. During the hot summer months of January and February, a good portion of the city leaves town for cooler climates. This year in particular, this phenomenon was amplified by the diminished Buenos Aires nightlife. As a result, we found that many of the museums were closed for the entire month of February. We were particularly disappointed to be turned away from the museum at the Palacio de las Aguas Corrientes, the city waterworks facility. Just by chance, we stumbled upon the stunning edifice while wandering through the streets in early January. The building, which occupies an entire city block, is ornately covered with 170,000 large, brightly glazed tiles, imported from England in the late 19th century. A cross-reference of the Lonely Planet guidebook indicated that the building houses the small Museo del Patrimonio Aguas Argentinas. "The collection of faucets, handles, pipe joints and even old toilets are well-lit and displayed." This, we had to see. Unfortunately, the guide failed to mention that the museum is closed for the entire month of February. We were, however, redirected to the building's library, which - based on the special attention we received from the librarian - doesn't get a whole lot of visitors. She gave us a bried history of the palace and showered us with books and pamplets detaling the history and function of the entire Buenos Aries waterworks system - which, I assure you, is more interesting than it sounds. Our attempts to enter the ecological reserve on the east side of the city were similarly thwarted. Although the reserve is open all year, the security guards seem to look for any excuse to close the gates. On our first visit, we learned that the park is closed every Monday. When we returned on Tuesday, we were again turned away - this time because of a light drizzle. By the end of our week in Buenos Aires, it was not unusal to be greeted by a familiar face while wandering the streets of the city - just another sign of how very small a city of twelve million can be. We made friends at the nigthclubs and coffee shops, and were frequently invited to join in conversation at an adjacent table when we would go out to eat. Generally speaking, this level of hospitality is consistent with my travel experiences. Of course, it doesn't hurt that Jeff speaks flawless Spanish, that we deliberately wear broad smiles everywhere we go, and that almost everyone is interested in hearing about our ascent of Mt. Aconcagua. On one occasion when all six members of our mountaineering team were dining in Mendoza, a mildly intoxicated businessman who showed a great interest in our group quietly paid our bill as an expression of hospitality. When the time came, it was difficult to leave Buenos Aires, which was already starting to feel like home. We flew out late Tuesday evening, February 8, taking the red-eye back to the states. Arriving in Washington DC, Jeff greeted the custom official by his first name, recognizing him as an old friend from the navy - yet another sign of how small this planet really is. And as if to drive the point even further, Jeff was then greeted by the flight attendent on the way to Denver with, "I've seen you before. Do you fly a lot?" Which prompted a response of, "140,000 miles last year." Small, small world. Jeff and I parted ways in Denver. He flew back to Monterey, and I took a direct flight to Albuquerque. For now, I've set up base camp in Los Alamos, New Mexico - although it's not clear how long I'll be here. My bank account isn't empty just yet, so it's time to start planning my next adventure. |
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