Buenos Aires

The obelisk.

Not "the" obelisk.
The excellent "Cuidad Baigon" playing at the San Telmo street fair.

Congress.
The Palacio Barolo was inspired by Dante's Divine Comedy and just so happened to be directly across the street from my hostel.

The colorful La Boca neighborhood.

These "residents" look festive in the daylight, but I imagine once the sun sets, they become the stuff of nightmares.

The Recoleta Cemetery: home to ex-presidents, Evita and a healthy number of cats.

My plans for Buenos Aires were simple. I was going to finish the cruise, spend an evening exploring the city and board a flight home the following day. But, of course, the best laid plans, etc. and so forth...

A couple of things happened. (1) I went to the wonderfully bohemian San Telmo street fair, a weekly gathering of antique collectors, artists, street performers and assorted on-lookers of all ages. (2) I learned that my hostel was on a historic street, Avenida de Mayo, that is until today the sight of the almost daily political protests; that it is run by a super friendly bunch of guys and that they have the best roof-top view in town and (3) I realized I was not ready to come home, had no reason to come home and still had plenty of days off to play with.

So with all this in mind, a one day stay became a one week stay. At first, I foolishly worried that this might be too much time in one place and started looking for ways to get to Iguazu Falls, but after a couple of days exploring Buenos Aires, I realized that a week was not even enough to scratch the surface, at least not at the leisurely mode I was in. Instead of trying to see everything all at once, as I normally do, I took my time getting to know the distinct but various neighborhoods.

I devoted an entire day to walking through the massive Recoleta cemetery, where I took a fascinating tour detailing the history of some of the better known residents and later sat in the nearby park, reading a book and enjoying the sun.

On two other days, I took free walking tours, one focusing on the city's rich political past and the other on its aristocratic foundation, which has resulted in the lavish European-inspired architecture that is so prevalent today. Both tours, which I highly recommend, are the products of BA Free Tours. This company is owned and operated by Gaston and Sol, a remarkable brother and sister duo, who share a passion for revealing both the good and bad their city has to offer. I'm particularly grateful to Sol, who insisted on giving her tour, even though I was the only person who showed up that day.

On yet another day, I took a city bus to the slightly rough but decidedly colorful La Boca. This former Italian neighborhood (or at least 3 blocks of it) has become a tourist haven due to its brightly-hued building, a tradition that began when the first inhabitants used paint left over from ships at the nearby dock to paint their homes. There was never enough of one color to fully cover a house, so some mixing and matching ensued.

Today, the most photogenic part is home to souvenir stores, sidewalk cafes and more tango dancers than you can shake a stiletto at. When not dancing, they entice tourists into striking dramatic tango poses for the camera (and a small fee, of course). Not to be outdone, was a stout, curly-headed Argentinian in a soccer jersey who offered "fotos con Maradona". Gotta love a guy who turns a slight resemblance to a national hero into a career.

One evening, inspired by all these tango-ers (tango-ists ?), I convinced Maria, my new hostel friend, to join me in taking tango lessons. We went to the historic Confiteria Ideal (site of at least one scene from Madonna's Evita) and clomped all over our hapless instructors for about an hour before watching in awe as the regulars took the floor.

Yet another evening, Maria and I went to a rooftop bar-b-que at the hostel, where I befuddled our hosts by arriving with a box of frozen veggie burgers. To their credit they gamely grilled and served them, I'm sure in violation of a number of Argentinian laws.

Of course, since old habits die hard, I did take a day trip to Uruguay, which I will blog about later, but the point is that even with the relaxed pace I had adopted, the week simply flew by. Before I knew it, I was back where I had started, facing a quickly approaching return to reality. This time I did board my flight, weary but happy, mostly grateful for the extra unexpected week I got to spend in Argentina.