Day 72 - Buenos Aires

It was a beautiful day to arrive in Buenos Aires!  Our first challenge was crossing the streets between the port and the city.  Buenos Aires is a massive city of 11 million people, and its streets are proportionally large, sometimes 10 lanes in one direction.  Just outside the city, we got stuck at an intersection that never seemed to turn green for us – or rather, white in Argentina.  A group of a hundred or so of us, fresh off the ship and impatient from 10 days at sea, jaywalked full on into traffic, not minding the consequences.

We finally made it to the city!  We walked the wide streets past massive buildings.  It looked like the city had been supersized.  The only thing that was not imposing was Plaza de Mayo, one of the main squares.  It was a modest yard with some fountains, and it was right next to the Pink House (Casa Rosado), the Argentinian equivalent of the White House.

At this point, Abby, Nic, and I split from the rest of our sluggish group, who got distracted by a sale sign in some store.  We found a place to eat, and we were very grateful to have Nic, for whom Spanish was among his repertoire of languages.  After lunch, we made our way toward El Ateneo, an opera house converted into a bookstore.  We walked to the other side of the city, crossing the main road, Cerrito, which must have been about 20 lanes across.

The bookstore was gorgeous!  There were tiers and balconies full of books, angels painted on the ceiling, reading areas in the booths, and a café on the stage.  We took it all in and browsed the books, all in Spanish.  We left and called for a taxi to take us to the Recoleta Cemetary, but found out that it was only three blocks away (Nic had given away our only map when the group split).

Inside the cemetery it was quiet and peaceful.  We walked along rows – neighborhoods, rather – of large mausoleums housing the dead.  We peaked inside and found little altars, and many of them had narrow staircases that led down to I can’t imagine what.  Some of them were marble and clean and quite lavish, while others were neglected and covered with dust and quite creepy.  We came across mausoleums with a couple coffins, presumably a husband and wife, and then we found crypts with stacks and stacks of coffins.  In one, the whole rotary club was housed together in a deep, creepy, dusty chamber where all three walls were shelves of coffins.  But mostly it was a very beautiful and serene space.  We kept asking around for Eva Peron’s grave, but she was very hard to find.  We had to wait for a tour group to arrive and followed close.  She is in her family mausoleum under her family name Duarte, a relatively inconspicuous structure.

Back in the din of the city, we wandered around aimlessly until we found a magical tree.  The trees in Buenos Aires are something special, with their massive roots extending well above the ground and their branches growing horizontally.  Perfect for climbing.

After climbing down the tree, we found an art museum right across the street: the Palais de Glace.  Free admission, so in we went!  Much of the art was pretty weird, but there was a great piece comprised of several Samsung flatscreen TVs.  They were scenes of nature, but if you looked closely, you could find little Samsung billboards peaking over the hillside.  Gradually, the scenes developed into villages, then cities, a cruise ship sailed from screen to screen, the lights dimmed at night, the seasons changed, and then the whole thing undid itself and returned to its original state.

We continued walking along a main road, hopefully one that would lead us to food.  On our way, we stumbled upon the Floralis Genérica, a giant steel flower whose petals would open at dawn and close at night.  However, this mechanism was disabled to prevent damage when their insurance company was socialized.

We walked a long distance before finding promising side streets, and tired and hungry we found a place to eat.  Nic schmoozed with the waiter in Spanish for a bit, buy Abby and I understood all the compliments.  From dinner, we caught a cab to San Telmo, the tango district.  The waiter had recommended us a venue, but when we arrived, we found out that night they had only music, no dancing show.  We decided to try again another night, and, wanting to spare another cab fare home, decided to walk back to the ship.  Turns out Recoleta was not so far from our floating hotel, but the walk from San Telmo was egregious.  We again walked past the Pink House, and at night it was lit up by bright pink lights.  An hour and a half later we entered the Zona Puerta, but it was still a long walk for our aching feet until the entrance to our port.

By the time we got on the ship, we could barely walk.  We split to throw away our shoes, then met up again in the Union to put Nic to bed.  He had to meet his trip at 3:30 am to fly out to Patagonia.  He brought his bedding and made a nest in the auditorium seats.  Halfway through one episode of Friends, he was in deep sleep, and I made a sign that said, “PLEASE WAKE UP SLEEPYHEAD FOR PATAGONIA” and put it on top of him before I left for bed myself.