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October 04, 2005

Buenos Aires

The bus journey to Buenos Aires from Sao Paulo took 33 hours. It was 13 hours before the bus stopped for a break. I can't begin to imagine how many tea stops the New Zealand Intercity bus would have made by then.

I had tried to get a bus to Montevideo, but the bus company wouldn't let me since I didn't have the legally required entrance paper in my passport. The Argentinian authorities had removed it in Foz do Iguazu and I hadn't realised I needed another one. I was stuck in Sao Paulo for a bit and had a slight meltdown before trying a company that went to Argentina and would let me on. That is, they sold me a ticket and said it would be no problem, but then refused to let me board at 23.30 that night when we were due to leave. Eventually the driver let me on, after some other passengers weighed in on my behalf, though he told me the bus would wait for 10 minutes at immigration if I had problems, but no longer. I managed to cross the border the next afternoon with a little help from my fellow passengers and the driver, who demanded a bottle of wine as a reward.

The bus journey was the most comfortable I've ever had, with big fat reclining seats, footrests and a free dinner. They showed some awful films with different language combinations (Spanish dialogue, Portuguese subtitles didn't work so well for me) but we got free breakfast (a little tray of crackers) and dinner at a bus stop, which included champagne! Woo hoo! Granted, the champagne bottle had a picture of a bus on it, and wasn't the best, but who cares when it's free and at a bus stop? Not me. A guy even came round when we were back on the bus to give out glasses of whisky. I spent most of the time reading, listening to music and chatting to Marcelo, an Argentinian idealist philosopher who had led a very interesting life (and looked a little like Gabriel Byrne). We had a good laugh and a long conversation about everything from regrets to Seneca.

Buenos Aires reminds me of Brussels - the same shabby grand old houses, the smell of croissants and cakes emanating from little cafes, and the ubiquitous dog mess. Calle Florida is a bit like Rue Neuve - lots of shops and people cruising around. Bizarrely, the world and his wife wanted to sell me a fur coat and kept popping out of doorways and thrusting leaflets into my hand. In Brazil, I got asked for directions a few times and people didn't seem to see me as an obvious foreigner, whereas here for some reason, everyone knows I'm a gringo.

I had a great time in Buenos Aires: saw the Casa Rosada and the musuem, the Cabildo, the National Congress, the Cathedral, and wandered around the streets, stopping off every now and then in the gorgeous cafes. I love it that everyone takes time to sit around and have a cup of coffee and a cake while reading the newspaper or having a chat. The Recoleta Cemetary was a strange place, with streets of mausoleums like little houses, complete with net curtains in some cases. Others were a bit broken and you could see coffins and urns inside. There were stray cats everywhere, and loads of tourists looking for Evita´s grave. I went to the fantastic Museum of Fine Arts, which was filled with school children, all dressed in their uniforms, which consisted of white lab coats, strangely enough. They looked like an army of teeny tiny doctors and dentists.

I went to La Boca, a really touristy area at the mouth of the river, where the Boca Juniors stadium is located. There was a match on, and a guy I spoke to at the hostel the next day told me that he'd been on a bus and all these hooligans appeared and tried to board, ripping off the rearview mirrors and bashing them on the doors. I met a couple of Argentinian guys and their Italian friend who all worked as lifeguards on the Adriatic Coast, and ended up going for lunch with them back in the city. It was an all-you-can-eat place, which is a dangerous proposition for a backpacker. I ended up making a complete pig out of myself, especially when it came to the dessert table. I came back with a big wobbling overloaded pile of puddings and tarts on my plate, only to find that the guys had each chosen one small polite slice of cake. They goggled at my enormous helping and remarked on my "healthy appetite."

The four of us - Luca, Lucas, Jeremiah and I - took the metro to Palermo and wandered around the Botanic Gardens, which was full of manky-looking stray cats meowing about, and the Japanese Garden, which seemed to be undergoing some reconstruction. They acted as muscle - and interpreters - during my negotiations with the camera shop man. He demanded 350 pesos to repair the broken zoom, which seemed extortionate. I decided not to get it fixed, but when he returned the camera to me, it turned out to be working - the mechanic must have sorted it out despite me not paying for it. Mwa ha ha!

We mooched around for a bit and they cracked me up. Latin American men seem to feel obligated to flirt with every woman they pass on the street, even yelling their "piropos" across the road. They do it in such a way though, that it just makes me laugh and doesn't seem especially leery or threatening. I've found that generally the people I've met here have been friendly and relaxed, with a really good sense of humour. Buenos Aires is somewhere I'd definitely like to return to.

Posted by Rowena on October 4, 2005 03:15 PM
Category: Argentina
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