After a lovely week in Salta, I found myself facing the insane prospect of returning to Buenos Aires a FOURTH time, but with a very good purpose - to meet my amazing friend J.B. at the airport and share two weeks of adventuring together. During the first week of my language school in BA, I made most of our reservations/travel plans, and had allotted three days to for J.B. to see the city - the heart of Argentina.
I arrived early Saturday morning to the Retiro bus station after a very pleasant night stretched out over two seats (the bus was half-empty), entertained by a raging rain and lighting storm out the window and a string of unprecedented soothing, girly movies inside. In fact, we arrived so early that I was in a deep sleep and only had a few moments to groggily gather my things and stumble off the bus. I collected my bag from underneath the bus, stopped at a bench to rearrange a few things, took off my socks (that I had been wearing with sandals) , and headed for the subte.
I fought the crowds down the stairs, bought a ticket, transferred lines, and suddenly realized - ack! I left my Gortex trail-running shoes in a plastic sack under my bus seat. Last fall I spent three months searching for the perfect pair of shoes that would work for climbing mountains, glaciar trekking, rapelling waterfalls, wandering around cities and sitting for 23 hours on a bus, finally settling on this pair of New Balances. But when I realized I had left them behind, I didn't hesitate for one moment about letting them go. I think after a 20 hr bus ride I didn't have the energy, and besides being sick to death of wearing the same shoes all the time, this pair had never quite conformed to my feet or lived up to expectations.
So I decided my two missions for the day would be laundry and new hiking shoes (amazing how difficult small things are when you are traveling). I managed to accomplish both, even in a brand new barrio (Palermo) and without a map - oops! I ran around for an hour before I located the only store in BA selling outdoorsy shoes, and of course, they didn't have any in my size because the women here are so small. I then asked to try on some men's shoes. One of the boots on display fit well enough, so I decided to go with it, but of course the matching shoe was missing! Meanwhile, the minutes were ticking until the place across town doing my laundry would close and I'd be stuck sin ropa until Monday. Finally, the matching shoe appeared, I paid the expensive $390 pesos, and I am now the proud owner of a pair of men's Timberline boots. Hahaha!
I woke up at 6:30 on Sunday morning to pouring rain for J.B.'s arrival. The first such weather I had experienced in Buenos Aires - he must have brought it from Seattle. ;) Sebastían, the owner of the hostel (and good friends with my host mom Ana Maria's son, Diego - how I received the recommendation to stay there), had offered to personally drive me to the airport to meet J.B. Sweet! Casa Buenos Aires is more of a long-term apartment type residence than a backpacker hostel, with well-equipped, comfortable rooms, and open, airy, light common rooms - kitchen, patio and balconies. Generally students rent the rooms for months or even years while they attend school, but because of the summer holidays, there were a few room openings.
Casa Buenos Aires - home sweet home
I was so happy to see J.B. and get to spend time with someone who speaks English as a first language and has known me longer than one day. We set out right away to my favorite barrio, San Telmo, for the weekly antiques fair, despite the rain. I had forgotten that J.B. is a huge fan of vintage decór, loves seeing the juxtaposition of old and new, and being such a city person, delights in all the small, busy details that I often miss. It was a pleasure to experience my favorite part of BA through his eyes. For his first dinner in Argentina, I was finally able to get into a restaurant I had tried to eat at since I first arrived - Desnivel, a local favorite. It has some of the best steak in the city at very modest prices.
J.B. and I share bife de lomo, tortilla a la espanola, morrones con ajo, and a bottle of Norton clasico vino at Desnivel
Next, we went to my favorite milonga in BA, on Independencía (still San Telmo). Instead of the amazing tango band I had seen the last time I was there, they were featuring a live salsa band. Ah well - we were still able to catch some authentic tango dancing between salsa sets. On the taxi ride home, J.B. attempted to pay with a couple of the 20 peso bills he had received in change at the milonga. In the wee hours of the morning, the taxi driver was able to tell instantly that the bills were counterfeit and refused to accept them!
My first day in language school more than a month earlier, I had attended an orientation to the city that included tips on counterfeit money and how to avoid it, tell the difference in real vs. fake, etc. Ever since the Argentine economic crisis in 2001, fake money has been a huge problem. But in all my travels I had never had a problem - and as I explained this to J.B. the next day at my favorite sushi restaurant in the Japanese gardens, I took out a few of my Argentine bills to show him how to test their validity. I noticed that one of my 100 peso bills looked suspiciously fake - and sure enough, when I tried to pay for lunch the waitress confirmed my fears. The 100 peso bill is the highest denomination you can receive in Argentina, and I had gotten this one from a CASH MACHINE at a Brazilian bank the day before - I couldn't believe it. What terrible luck!!
Billetes falsos - fake bills (between us, $140 pesos-worth of souveneir counterfeit bills, or about $46 dollars)
The next day, when the bank was open for business, I summoned my courage and confronted the bank teller in Spanish about the fake bills. If nothing else, they should know what had happened. He became very irate and I had to ask to speak to his manager. The manager was much more professional and listened to my story, assured me it was impossible for the cash machine to dispense fake bills, but did eventually make the original teller fill out a report and then told me they would credit my account if they were able to prove anything. Another interesting cultural experience, to say the least!
That evening we went to see La Bomba del Tiempo, the drum show scheduled every Monday night in BA that I had seen with my cousin Ryan's friend Lucia the month before. The line for this event always stretches around the block, and it's common practice to drink a Quilmes beer(Argetina's national drink) or two while you wait. We waited for one and a half hours, taking silly photos, getting into an oregami competition with one of BA's millions of paper-flyer street promoters, chatting with other queuers, and eyeing the goods being offered by street vendors, before we reached the front of the line - only to be told that the show had sold out. It wasn't the first time I'd hear of the Bomba del Tiempo line turning out to be the main event, and we were perfectly satisfied as we peered through the fence for a few minutes at the concert and then headed to my favorite pizza and empanada joint, La Americana, for dinner.
Drinking a Quilmes while standing in line for the drum show
The next day we hit up the cemetery in Recoleta and I took even more spooky/artsy photos, had lunch at the Tea Connection (where I'd had my first lunch during language school with all the gals from eight different countries), and then visited my host parents for a lovely dinner of empanadas and met their new host student from Connecticut, Bart. It was fantastic to see them again and wonderful to have a dinner party that was only half in Spanish, and half English!
Bart, J.B., Molly, Ana Maria
The next day we headed to Bariloche, northern Patagonia, for some outdoors fun...will fill in soon.
I arrived early Saturday morning to the Retiro bus station after a very pleasant night stretched out over two seats (the bus was half-empty), entertained by a raging rain and lighting storm out the window and a string of unprecedented soothing, girly movies inside. In fact, we arrived so early that I was in a deep sleep and only had a few moments to groggily gather my things and stumble off the bus. I collected my bag from underneath the bus, stopped at a bench to rearrange a few things, took off my socks (that I had been wearing with sandals) , and headed for the subte.
I fought the crowds down the stairs, bought a ticket, transferred lines, and suddenly realized - ack! I left my Gortex trail-running shoes in a plastic sack under my bus seat. Last fall I spent three months searching for the perfect pair of shoes that would work for climbing mountains, glaciar trekking, rapelling waterfalls, wandering around cities and sitting for 23 hours on a bus, finally settling on this pair of New Balances. But when I realized I had left them behind, I didn't hesitate for one moment about letting them go. I think after a 20 hr bus ride I didn't have the energy, and besides being sick to death of wearing the same shoes all the time, this pair had never quite conformed to my feet or lived up to expectations.
So I decided my two missions for the day would be laundry and new hiking shoes (amazing how difficult small things are when you are traveling). I managed to accomplish both, even in a brand new barrio (Palermo) and without a map - oops! I ran around for an hour before I located the only store in BA selling outdoorsy shoes, and of course, they didn't have any in my size because the women here are so small. I then asked to try on some men's shoes. One of the boots on display fit well enough, so I decided to go with it, but of course the matching shoe was missing! Meanwhile, the minutes were ticking until the place across town doing my laundry would close and I'd be stuck sin ropa until Monday. Finally, the matching shoe appeared, I paid the expensive $390 pesos, and I am now the proud owner of a pair of men's Timberline boots. Hahaha!
I woke up at 6:30 on Sunday morning to pouring rain for J.B.'s arrival. The first such weather I had experienced in Buenos Aires - he must have brought it from Seattle. ;) Sebastían, the owner of the hostel (and good friends with my host mom Ana Maria's son, Diego - how I received the recommendation to stay there), had offered to personally drive me to the airport to meet J.B. Sweet! Casa Buenos Aires is more of a long-term apartment type residence than a backpacker hostel, with well-equipped, comfortable rooms, and open, airy, light common rooms - kitchen, patio and balconies. Generally students rent the rooms for months or even years while they attend school, but because of the summer holidays, there were a few room openings.
Casa Buenos Aires - home sweet home
I was so happy to see J.B. and get to spend time with someone who speaks English as a first language and has known me longer than one day. We set out right away to my favorite barrio, San Telmo, for the weekly antiques fair, despite the rain. I had forgotten that J.B. is a huge fan of vintage decór, loves seeing the juxtaposition of old and new, and being such a city person, delights in all the small, busy details that I often miss. It was a pleasure to experience my favorite part of BA through his eyes. For his first dinner in Argentina, I was finally able to get into a restaurant I had tried to eat at since I first arrived - Desnivel, a local favorite. It has some of the best steak in the city at very modest prices.
J.B. and I share bife de lomo, tortilla a la espanola, morrones con ajo, and a bottle of Norton clasico vino at Desnivel
Next, we went to my favorite milonga in BA, on Independencía (still San Telmo). Instead of the amazing tango band I had seen the last time I was there, they were featuring a live salsa band. Ah well - we were still able to catch some authentic tango dancing between salsa sets. On the taxi ride home, J.B. attempted to pay with a couple of the 20 peso bills he had received in change at the milonga. In the wee hours of the morning, the taxi driver was able to tell instantly that the bills were counterfeit and refused to accept them!
My first day in language school more than a month earlier, I had attended an orientation to the city that included tips on counterfeit money and how to avoid it, tell the difference in real vs. fake, etc. Ever since the Argentine economic crisis in 2001, fake money has been a huge problem. But in all my travels I had never had a problem - and as I explained this to J.B. the next day at my favorite sushi restaurant in the Japanese gardens, I took out a few of my Argentine bills to show him how to test their validity. I noticed that one of my 100 peso bills looked suspiciously fake - and sure enough, when I tried to pay for lunch the waitress confirmed my fears. The 100 peso bill is the highest denomination you can receive in Argentina, and I had gotten this one from a CASH MACHINE at a Brazilian bank the day before - I couldn't believe it. What terrible luck!!
Billetes falsos - fake bills (between us, $140 pesos-worth of souveneir counterfeit bills, or about $46 dollars)
The next day, when the bank was open for business, I summoned my courage and confronted the bank teller in Spanish about the fake bills. If nothing else, they should know what had happened. He became very irate and I had to ask to speak to his manager. The manager was much more professional and listened to my story, assured me it was impossible for the cash machine to dispense fake bills, but did eventually make the original teller fill out a report and then told me they would credit my account if they were able to prove anything. Another interesting cultural experience, to say the least!
That evening we went to see La Bomba del Tiempo, the drum show scheduled every Monday night in BA that I had seen with my cousin Ryan's friend Lucia the month before. The line for this event always stretches around the block, and it's common practice to drink a Quilmes beer(Argetina's national drink) or two while you wait. We waited for one and a half hours, taking silly photos, getting into an oregami competition with one of BA's millions of paper-flyer street promoters, chatting with other queuers, and eyeing the goods being offered by street vendors, before we reached the front of the line - only to be told that the show had sold out. It wasn't the first time I'd hear of the Bomba del Tiempo line turning out to be the main event, and we were perfectly satisfied as we peered through the fence for a few minutes at the concert and then headed to my favorite pizza and empanada joint, La Americana, for dinner.
Drinking a Quilmes while standing in line for the drum show
The next day we hit up the cemetery in Recoleta and I took even more spooky/artsy photos, had lunch at the Tea Connection (where I'd had my first lunch during language school with all the gals from eight different countries), and then visited my host parents for a lovely dinner of empanadas and met their new host student from Connecticut, Bart. It was fantastic to see them again and wonderful to have a dinner party that was only half in Spanish, and half English!
Bart, J.B., Molly, Ana Maria
The next day we headed to Bariloche, northern Patagonia, for some outdoors fun...will fill in soon.
Comments
Post a Comment