I get to reception to check out and there’s a bit of a bun fight happening with some guests that were unhappy with their bill. I lingered for as long as I could wondering if fists were going to fly or not but in the end became impatient and set off to grab a cab to take me to my new abode for the night. My friendly Argent was booked out so I took the opportunity to go somewhere I hadn’t been before and had heard was nice, to the Suburb of Palermo, one of the bigger central barrios.
The hotel is lovely, again in a residential area but surrounded by shops and restaurants. Of course as soon as I arrived I went exploring. I saw one sign saying "Coffee for breakfast, beer for dinner" but they dont open till 8pm! Go figure?
There are shopping outlets everywhere mainly with very run of the mill stuff and certainly nothing exciting. Heaps of vintage shops everywhere too and a whole complex of outlet stotre.
It was lunch time when I spied the Henri bar. A small wee pub like place with a waitress who looked just like my twin cousins Wendy and Sheryl. She even posed for me so I could send them a pic. I ordered Spaghetti Bolognese without great expectations. It turned out to be divine, a very runny sauce but so flavoursome with some lovely warming spices coming through.
I had little to do so I walked, no where in particular but just checking out the neighbourhood. The central focus is the Botanical Gardens but looking at it from the outside of the gate it didn’t inspire me to check it out further.
Like every other day today lots of shops are closed. No it’s not an official holiday but Argentina are playing Croatia in the world cup, so why would anyone work when they can watch their team win and progress to the next round. If its not one thing its another. No wonder the country is in economic turmoil. I decided to join the crowds and went and sat in a cafe waited for someone to serve me but thats ok was only there to watch the game. It was the only cafe I could find with an empty seat and here I was in a vast cafe full of people all advising the ref that he is wrong. Eventually I got served and rather than having to ask for the bill (the usual) the waiter brought it to me with my coke. After the second Croatia goal I decided I didn’t want to be there for the end as no show would I see the Argentines celebrating. The mood was becoming somewhat sombre. So I called waiter over and paid the bill, the correct change, no tip. Sulky wee fellow ripped the money away without so much as a thanks. And that’s why you didn’t get a tip mate! You were slow, didnt wipe down the table and you are rude. Tough.
Hours after the match finished most every TV channel is still dissecting the loss and lamenting the fact that they have no show of going through to the next round. I’m not sure what they do with all the clothing, wigs, flags etc they have as I guess they won’t be using them again this round. I suppose they can bring them out for the rugby. The South American teams haven’t done well at all, and it is going to be interesting to follow it through to the end.
I had dinner all sorted. Next door to the hotel was Don Julio and it had a good Parrilla menu and looked nice so I didn’t go too early to make sure it would have been open. Bum. Only seats outside left. So I booked for lunch for tomorrow and went walking (only 17km today). All the places on my list were closed at 8:30. Maybe in mourning. So I ended up over the road from the hotel having a provoleta and fries at la Popular del Soho. I wish I could send the smell it was divine. But it did smell and look much better than it tasted.
I looked out onto Don Julio as I was eating. The pavement was chocka with people waiting for a seat at 9:30. It’s pumping.
I can’t wait for lunch tomorrow . I have to fill my day in until I leave at midnight and a meal at a renown restaurant sounds like a good filler for a few hours.
And the last day of my trip.
The Shower. Oh! oh! oh! Even beats my one at home and with a bath sheet and thicker than a piece of tissue. For some odd reason every hotel I have bern in has had almost threadbare towels. Must be a thing.
For me it must be time to go home. My arthritis and psoriasis have both set in and almost from day 1 had not bothered me one bit. Maybe my body is telling me that I need to go away to cure my immune system.
Although I wasn’t hungry when I woke I did grab a croissant for breakfast. By the time I’d gone back to my room and finished packing I was getting hungry and hanging out for Don Julio to open at 12. I checked out and went for a walk bit soon got over that and went and sat outside the restaurant. Someone had been setting tables outside including massive big steak knives for anyone to grab as the walk past. Imagine that happening any where else.
I think this may be an experience to savour. Once it hit 12 noon I was welcomed in through the partly closed curtain to a choice of seats near the parilla.
The menu comes, I’m stuck for choice; sirloin, rump, shortribs or prawns. The copa vino Malbec is a given so that was easy. Almost immediateky I’m bought a mini loaf of freh bread and a bowl of the best tasting Patagonian Olive Oil. I order the sirloin with grilled sweet potatoes and pretty soon I get my garnishes, chimichurri, garlic and a bowl of pebre.
If they dont bring me anything else I will be happy. The bread is the best I’ve had since I left home and the oil spicy, fresh and just delicious.
The place is filling up fast. Some customers are going through beef cuts 1.01. by the waiters. And just as I was thinking the bread was running out they bought another.
My massive steak arrived as did the grilled sweet potato.
The steak cooked perfectly but did not compare with the one from the place in the market in Montevideo. Still if it had not been for that superb meal today’s would have rated quite highly. The whole experience was however excellent. I turned down desert and coffee thinking I could have them later to fill in the 12 hours I still had before my flight.
Im curious as to where all the middle aged people are in this city (and in this restaurant). Theres lots of olds (my age +), many with dyed hair and over done. Theres plenty of young’s (20/30ish) but little in between. I wonder where they hang out.
To fill time I decided to try my luck at the tango statue shop and partly on foot and partly by Metro found my way there stopping on the way for a coffee at a place called Coffee Town that I’d heard much about. It was a long walk but it was a damn good coffee and worth every stride. They also roast and blend their own beans and I was tempted to buy some Colombian Santander roast but then thought of the superb coffee we have at home that I don’t need to carry. Even though my suitcase has lost much of the stuff I bought with me it had gained quite a bit of chocolate and the odd cookie but having a two bag allowance I could splurge.
As I was walking I heard music and right where the gaucho even was on Wednesday was a couple dancing tango. What a buzz for the day. Yay.
I found the tango statue shop. It was open. I didn’t buy the one I’d seen when I first found the shop but instead bought a hand made bronze statue that is amazing and cost three times as much as the other.
Happy but thirsty I set off to fill the next 4 hours before I can go to the airport. The lounge doesn’t open till 10pm so theres not point in going too much before that. So I walked.
Some beautiful buildings were along the way but then I came to a horrible grotty building that was labelled Hospital on Avenida Cordoba. Surely they don’t put people in here to cure them. It is disgusting. And yet they do!!!!!!
This is an unusual city. Its trying so hard to be modern and with it but then they have hospitals like this, pavements that have so many potholes that they are dangerous, the worst publicly accessible loos I have come across, dog poo everywhere you put your feet and ATMs that are closed the same time as the bank does (they don’t have sidewalk ATMs - they are all enclosed).
They do have amazing pastry shops (everywhere in SA), beautiful parks and some stunning buildings but to me it lacked soul. The Porteños (the people from Buenos Aires) the rudest people I have come across (especially the older women).
I haven’t heard anything of the native people of Buenos Aires, the Mapuche. They seem to have been brushed aside for a city trying to be a bit Italian and a bit of something but neither the Spanish nor any of the natives seem to feature.
Time for the airport and I grab a cab where a radio is re-living Maradona’s goals. (For the duration of the one hour trip). I guess dreams are all there is left.
Getting to the 40 toll booth lanes didn’t seem quite as impressive as it was. Maybe I’m just ready to leave.
The LATAM queues are out the door. My AirNZ one was a queue of one. Me. My bag, despite the bags of alfajores and the chocolate is still less than 20k and virtually no hand luggage.
The down side is that the lounge opened at 10pm. I arrived at 10:10pm to find it was full but I could go back and stand in a queue at 11pm and might get in. Bugger that. I was planning on having a shower and getting out of the clothes I had worn for days, including the polar fleece and the boots (approx 50 days each). Cant have a shower. Ok be like that then. And I solved all in the airside loos and dumped all the clothes I took off.
Now what to do with the Peso that I found in my wallet and haven’t changed back. No cambio airside here!!!!
I did however manage to find food. If you can call packaged sandwiches and fries food. So fries and a coke will do to see me through to the meal I will undoubtedly get as soon as we board the plane.
Yes I am ready to leave Argentina but I would happily stay longer and go back to Chile and Ecuador. I’m not ready for home yet.
There were photos but the AP update I did this morning seems to have killed that ability. Check Instagram.
NZ here I come.
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