Breathing In Buenos Aires...

From the ferries in Buenos Aires, we rode to our hotel with Sebastian and his fantastic father. Despite being wiped from seeing the sights, tonight we'd meet Dar for more than a four star adventure--wine, spirits, and a divine steak dinner at El Mirasol followed by a table at Club Milonga to see tango! Unfortunately, our camera, comfortably cooling in our climate controlled room, collected no photos this night...but, don't fret, I'll browse the internet for some!
After a mesmerizing meal served by an army of napkin-armed waiters and maitre d's mixing double deep drinks at your table, a cab sped us back to the Claridge Hotel. With typical Dar excitement--"You guys are gonna love this, you gotta see this, this is the real thing baby!"--we hustled our feet through a maze of midnight city streets--some drippy and dark with taxi tires splashing the potholes, others brightly illumined malls where locals keep watch on the tourists. Turning down a sepia soaked avenue, Dar yips, "This is it!" From the shadowed sidewalk we enter a hall the expands before our eyes--massive pillars, walls wearing decades of tobacco, ornate fixtures and curtains and moldings galore--but dreary and empty--except two starers who motion to the grand staircase they guard...
Ascending, the brass bannister wraps around an antique glass elevator framed in wrought iron. Atop is a balcony and bar where three more men prattle in Spanish. Dar's pesos pass the test, a finger points to the tables and our eyes inhale a scene straight from an old film: dozens of partners twisting and dipping on the central wood floor surrounded by tables tucked between the marbled Corinthian columns covered in cocktails owned by the onlookers. Sneakily, we garner a "mesa" and "moso". As he's getting cervezas we're absorbing this place that seems storied in foreign fandangos. Strange rhythms are strumming, pairs going and coming, as everyone tangles in tangos! In tight evening dresses and suits hot off the presses, the legs whip and they dip and they vogue. Under huge ceiling fans holding eachothers hands, together they all start to spin...stepping and pausing, the whole place applausing with a passion that lies deep within.

After over an hour, weariness begins winning, our eyes begin waning, and we hastily zombie-walk back. At Dar's behest, tomorrow starts with the nine o'clock city tour...

After a bountiful breakfast with Dar and MaryEllen, we embarked on a bus bound for the best barrios of B.A. Our bilingual guide was great, but after awhile--no matter which language he spoke--it sounded something like this: "blah blahblah blahblah BUENOS AIRES, blah blahblah blahblah BUENOS AIRES..." So, we just focussed on photographing sculptures and buildings during the drive. Our first stop was Cementerio de la Recoleta--possibly the most popular stop for national and international visitors to blah blahblah blahblah BUENOS AIRES. Eva Perón--Argentina's former first lady and global champion for the rights of women and the poor--is enshrined here. Finding her tomb is an achievement itself, since the cemetery is a labyrinth of marvelous monochromatic mausoleums for its membership of magnates and monarchs.

So, first, we prayed for guidance in the church next door...


...and used the bathroom. Then, we went looking for Evita's grave. We only had fifteen minutes before the bus left so we had to look fast!

"Ok, which way first?"

"To the right."

"Take a left."

"Over there maybe?"

"Come back this way."

"Let's try down here."

"Go left again..."

"Uh, this is where we started. Hey, we better get back to the bus!"

Six hours later...

"Alright, let's try over on this side..."

"We should've bought that map for four pesos..."

"It's gotta be here somewhere!"

"Haven't we been down here already?"

"Are you sure this is the right cemetery?"

"I don't think it's here...wait a second, the Family Duarte..."
"Here it is! Wow, not a very big epitaph for such an important person."
"Yeah, but look at all the people here to pay their respects for what she accomplished and to leave flowers and letters."
"You'd think her tomb would be big and fancy--not a little square down at ground level."
"Well, considering she fought for the poor people, maybe it's fitting, maybe she'd want it that way."
"Yeah...cool."

Our next stop was the Plaza de Mayo which is surrounded by important Argentinian buildings including the Pink House--this country's equivalent of America's White House. Unfortunately, it was under renovation so a photo was useless. But, like I said before--don't fret, browse the internet! Here are our best photos of architecture in blah blahblah blahblah BUENOS AIRES...plus one from the world wide web. BUT WE SAW IT! WE WERE THERE! It was just covered...in...scaffolding...oh forget it. Fine, I'm a cheater.











Again our bus only stopped for twenty minutes, so we spent the first ten in Catedral Metropolitana blah blahblah blahblah BUENOS AIRES. All the churches of South America follow the classic basillica blueprint with enormous elongated congregational chambers and elegant semicircular shrines to the sides. As the cathedral for a city with the history and population of blah blahblah blahblah BUENOS AIRES, this one is arguably the most intricate in South America.


In addition, herein lies the sarcophagus of Jose de San Martin, Argentina's leader and liberator who achieved independence from the Spanish Empire. Protecting the tomb are two elite guards. Like the Beefeaters of London, static stoicism is a job requirement despite the throngs of tourists and their flashbulbs. Joining right in, we gawked at them as much as the carved marble coffin, when a strange murmur coarsed through the crowd. Glancing down the corridor, a quintet of royal sentinels was advancing with equally serious demeanors.
It was precisely noon, and the changing of the guard had begun! As tourists bubbled about frantically clicking, giggling, and guffawing, oohing and aahing, the men sidestepped with perfect poker-faced precision every oblivious obfuscated observer proving to be an obstacle. With pomp and preparedness in every motion, the men relieved the first shift, replacing them at their posts, while the preivous guards joined the revolving quintet. The entire operation looked like the mechanical workings of an elaborate grandfather clock displaying its animation on the hour! We followed the troupe back outside just as our guide was waving us back on the bus...





Our last city tour lay-over was in La Boca where we were generously given thirty minutes to experience one of the most uniquely colorful carnival barrios in blah blahblah blahblah BUENOS AIRES. Street performers ranging from tourist-targetting tip-hunting tango twosomes to mimes-on-stilts competed with dozens of street venders and shanty shops filled with every kind of overpriced artistic doodads imaginable. Peregrinating people, pickpockets and panhandlers alike, pack this seemingly surreal rainbow decorated neighborhood with its infusion of Italian inspiration. Walk down the wrong block and you'll fall right out of this Oz-like wonderland and back into the dreary Kansas grey of real life in the poorer parts of blah blahblah blahblah BUENOS AIRES. Play "Where's Leandra?" as you gaze upon the craziness of La Boca...





After our whirlwind witnessing of all things touristy in blah blahblah blahblah BUENOS AIRES, we rejoined Dar and MaryEllen for an afternoon out at the tracks of Palermo Hippodrome. Even if you're not a gambler, it's always a thrill to hear the thunder of hooves but here, the price of admission includes a five peso voucher to place a bet. So, being equine-challenged, the old lucky number system was used to choose a racehorse. "Cinco pesos por numero dos!', I told the bet-taking lady. "Of course, sir", she said. I said, "Oh, you speak English." And I went back to the stands with Leandra, Dar and MaryEllen where we all tried to figure out the odds system in Argenitna. The horses filled the gates, a crack was heard across the track, and they were off!

Making the turn and coming down the sretch, the crowd started to stand and shout. The announcer is screaming something that sounds like blah BlahBlah BLAHBLAH BUENOS AIRES!...

It looks like a close race...here they come... And, first across the finish line it's...It's...IT'S...

NUMERO DOS!!! The winner (ganador)!!! YEE-HAAAW!!! (In the upper right corner you can see the odds for the #2 horse--4.10 times the bet)

Holding his ticket limp, Dar says, "You won? How much did ya bet?"
Hiding my grin I say, "All of it". MaryEllen and Leandra smile...

OK, OK, I'm embellishing a little bit. I'm trying to make this blog more interesting for you, y'know! So, anyway, I bet 5 pesos and won 20 pesos. In other words, I bet the $1.60 admission price and won about $8. We were starving from a long day of touring again, so I spent half my winnings on a Coke and a ham and cheese sandwich which I split with Leandra. We watched three more races--no betting--and caught a cab back to La Recoleta. We'd met Dar and MaryEllen back at the hotel to say goodbye and grab our bags before our all night bus ride to Mendoza in western Argentina...

Good old lucky #2!


Back at the Claridge Hotel we spent our last hour with our Oregonian friends by the pool. Dar bought champagne. Before leaving for the bus terminal a bellboy clicked this shot in the lobby--in the back is Pablo, probably the greatest concierge in the world. Even though our hotel was down the street, he treated us like guests, stowing our luggage and helping arrange our transportation, lodging and excursions in Mendoza and Cajon de Maipo! Thanks again Pablo!

Since Dar and MaryEllen were leaving the next day I tried to talk Dar out of his University of Oregon Ducks hat--anybody that knows him knows that's next to impossible, but I almost did. Instead they gave us their Argentina and Chile guidebooks along with a bottle of Havana rum that wasn't exactly welcome in America. We owe them a big thanks for showing us a great time in blah blahblah blahblah BUENOS AIRES--personally, I still owe them for taking me to Hong Kong in 1986 with their son, Jonathon.

After saying goodbye, we took one last taxi ride down Nueve de Juli (Ninth of July) Boulevard--the world's widest street...

Got seated upstiars on one of Andesmar's awesome cross country deluxe double-deckers...

Took one more look at blah blahblah blahblah BUENOS AIRES disappearing into dusk...

We enjoyed all the complimentary accouterments of flying first class in our cushy recliner super sleeper seats--snacks, dinner, wine, champagne, and movies. Leandra even won an extra bottle of red wine playing bingo! We shared it with the three other passengers. Not including the food, everything was great, and we were excited to start crossing the continent...
As we pummeled across the pampas lands of central Argentina, the stars and moon shone bright and clear. When the sun came back, it would be beating on the doorway into the Andes mountains in Mendoza...

Breathing Out Buenos Aires...

On the last day of our trip, we returned to blah blahblah blahblah BUENOS AIRES to catch the hydrofoil home to Uruguay. We were tired--of busses and fusses, lines and luggage, and all the stresses of traveling. After all, we just crossed another continent together! We spent the day toiling in terminals, dragging down sidewalks, and forcing ourselves to find one more museum or must-see sight. Exhausted, sticky, starving, and struggling to stay civil--one of us remembered the incredible restaurant we went to with Dar; smiling, the other one nodded. Waving a hand like a magic wand, a taxi responds and in seconds we're in front of...

Meet Ricardo, Daniel, and Salvador! Three of the best servers in South America! The first time we came here, Salvador waited on us, on this day, Ricardo, and Daniel is always our maitre d'! And, El Mirasol's cuisine is as good as its staff!

As we pushed in our chairs preparing ourselves for the three hour ferry to Montevideo, Ricardo rushed over to us carrying a very kind gift--an El Mirasol hat with the signature sunflower. And, I love it. Thank you!