DAY 133: In February 2002, I spent a day in Buenos Aires during a stopover en route to Antarctica. During that day, I wandered around the central part of the city, looking for a new camera to replace the one that had broken on me, seeing the main sights on the way. Just over two years later I was back in BA visiting the familiar sights, and everything came back to me -- including the familiar words of spoken Spanish I had been accustomed to hearing four weeks before. After being in Portuguese-speaking Brazil for a month, I had to revert back to my broken Spanish speaking ways, although I still kept on saying "obrigado" instead of "gracias" ("thank you") and had to correct myself all the time.

At the hostel's complimentary breakfast I met Aude, from the northwestern countryside of France. She told me about the tango lesson she attended the night before, but was off to a different one that night. She invited me to tag along, and told me that we were to leave from the hostel at five in the afternoon. This left me with most of the day to wander around and run errands, the first of which was to be a nerd and catch up on Blog duties.

By midday I was back out on the streets of Buenos Aires, the first time since that day-long layover in 2002. I was staying in the same area, near the Plaza de la Republica and its iconic obelisk (picture above), and went wandering around to the points of interest on my Lonely Planet map. It being a Sunday, the traffic and the crowds were minimal, the perfect scenario for a self-guided walking tour. I walked to the familiar sights of the Palacio del Congreso and the Casa Rosada, the pink residence of the president where Eva Peron -- and Madonna playing her in 1996's Evita -- stood on the balcony to speak to her people below. Next to the palace was the Plaza de Mayo, still full of pigeons the way I remembered from my last visit.

BUENOS AIRES HAS BEEN CALLED "THE PARIS OF THE SOUTH" for its charm, energetic vibe and European architecture. Walking amongst the classical buildings, I made my way to the Basilica de San Francisco where, just a block away, everyone was anxiously watching a car that had caught on fire, bellowing smoke for blocks. I continued my leisurely Sunday stroll through the city and eventually found the Citibank office that I went to two years prior -- I had a flashback in my mind of the time I unintentionally started a small riot in the vestibule. Walking through outdoor pedestrian malls and fancy indoor shopping malls, I eventually made it to the beautiful park known as the Plaza San Martin, where kids played on a playground not far from couples smooching under trees.

FIVE O'CLOCK WAS APPROACHING, so I started my return back towards the hostel to meet up with Aude. I walked along the ten-lane Avenida 9 de Julio, passed the towering obelisk again until I made it back to the St. Nicholas hostel with a little time to spare. Aude the French girl never showed up for tango -- in fact I never saw her again -- leaving me to talk to Katarina, a pretty Czechoslovakian girl that every hetero guy in the hostel drooled over. When she went off to take a nap, I befriended American girls Amy (Seattle) and Rachel (Syracuse, NY) over cups of coffee.

After making a run out for chocolate and Argentine empanadas, I killed time watching the familiar scene of backpackers scrambling around for buses and tickets on an episode of The Amazing Race shown in South America on Sony's AXN channel. Night had fallen and it was time for the nightly party up on the roof terrace, a good old-fashioned barbecue.

IF YOU ARE A VEGETARIAN, it might not be such a good idea to visit Argentina. Argentina is big steak country, with arguably the best beef in the world. In addition to beef, they cook a mean chicken and pork at any of the many parrillas, grilled meat restaurants.

When I heard the hostel was holding a barbecue, I flashed back to memories of American hamburger and hot dogs with the occasional hint of lighter fluid. (As a kid, I loved soaking the briquettes in fluid for MAXIMUM FIRE POWER!) Silly me, the hostel was run by Argentines, and so the roof had transformed into a parrilla, with a grill that sizzled up juicy steaks, cuts of pork, chicken and succulent sausages. Potato salad and green salad were served as well, but most of the time that stuff was just pushed to the side. We were in Steak Country, dammit!

Tasty cows aside, Argentina is also big wine country and at the table, the wine flowed like, well, wine. Amelia the fortysomething woman who managed the hostel made sure everyone's plastic glass was full. At a point, I reached my threshold for it and just wanted some water.

"[You are in Argentina, more wine!]" Amelia said.

"Oh... okay." She topped me off. I had to sneak another cup on the table for some water.

"[Hide the water, she'll get mad,]" the grillmaster told me.

THE STARS SHONE ABOVE OUR HEADS as we dined the night away. With David the Aussie (whom I met on the plane the night before) gone off on a bus to northern Argentina, I befriended guys other guys from Australia, the U.K. and a German guy named Sebastian from Stuttgart, who was absolutely happy to hear that I had family there. I told one English guy about all the sights I had seen in the day, and he told me that was more than he saw in the past ten days; he had only seen generic club after club after bar after pub, and spent most of his time away from that just drinking on the roof terrace. This was the opposite of Stefi, from Nuremberg, who loved Buenos Aires' unique charm so much, she decided to stay in the city for her entire two-month vacation so that she could be totally immersed in her favorite city a second time around.

From the stars above to the stars of Hollywood, I joined the two American girls Amy and Rachel down in the TV room to watch the Oscars on TNT. In the past, I'd seen the Academy Awards on TV in the States, always hearing that it was broadcast in other countries around the world, and had now confirmed it. The three of us, along with another English guy, stayed up until two in the morning to see Lord of the Rings clean house -- despite the fact that director Peter Jackson couldn't have looked any sloppier in his tuxedo.

With production of the trilogy complete, perhaps it was time for Mr. Jackson to leave New Zealand and come to Argentina. Seeing that belly of his bursting out of his suit, I thought maybe he would love a vacation away from Middle Earth with a visit to Steak Country.