Buenos Aires Walk About

So, what exactly have we been doing for our first few days, besides sleeping, waiting for the fontanero, looking both ways when we exit the front door, trying to eat something that isn't made with bread or have sugar in it, and chewing up a lot of bandwidth on the free Internet downloading Spanish translators for the iPod?

Avoiding the dog poo, that's what.

Venturing out onto the streets of Bueno Aires is a adventure in itself. We now understand why the tango is their national dance — it's merely a variation of the dog poo avoidance step set to music as you "dance" along the lovely cobblestone streets. Yes, it seems the poop and scoop law has yet to be passed here which does unfortunately detract from the lovely decrepit architecture. I said to Jenn during our first walk out that if I can make it through our time here without stepping once in some dog doo, it'll be a freakin' miracle. To which she then pointed out the lovely dog poo mural I was already making on the sidewalk. Ooops. A virgin no more...

We've walked miles (mostly because we're too afraid to take public transit or hail a taxi, but we're working up to it!). Our first walk (dance) took us through our own barrio (San Telmo) and then to Madonna's house (oops, we mean Eva Peron's). Having no idea where we are or what it is we're standing in front of, we watch the parade of people enter the building and wave at us from the balcony.




"I wonder if this is Evita's place," Keir wonders.

Sure enough, when we return and look it up, we read that the "pink house", as it is known, is the government palace that occupies the end of the Plaza de Mayo. There are gates blocking off the end of the square which Keir jokes are to keep out the protesters. Later we learn that it is indeed for just that as there can be up to 30 protests A DAY in this square. Argentinians love to protest, but when you delve into their history and the recent 8 year period of military rule when four people or more congregating was considered illegal, you understand why.

That's enough for us and day two! The culture shock is immense as is the jet lag. We hole up in our apartment and begin looking up where we can take some much needed Spanish classes.

On day three, after the plumber has fixed the hot water, we venture out further. This time along the street Peru (which turns into Florida in the Centro), past the Pacifico Galleries (a big ritzy shopping mall... at least it has baños!) to the Plaza San Martin where we hope to meet up with one of the city's free architecture tours. But, forgetting to clarify exactly where the tour meets in the plaza (it's quite large), we wander aimlessly trying to find someone in a green shirt that might represent a tour guide. We do find a man in a green shirt, but he is collecting "donations" for children with AIDS (or himself... it's quite unclear). We ask a policeman if he knows where the free tour meets and he gives us directions to the bus station.

We check our clock which reads five o'clock and assume the tour starts at a different time then indicated. It is only when we get home that we realize we had yet to adjust our clocks from Australian time which means we were thirteen hours off the meeting time. If only we'd waited another hour, it would have been a perfect twelve hour difference and we would have met up with the tour, no problem!

So, no tour for us! Instead we wander into the Recoleta area, home to the famous Recoleta cemetery (which we don't see because we get lost). Like Cinderella, it starts to get dark and we panic and run home! We did venture out again at night (Buenos Aires is all about the nightlife, they say) to have dinner at the locally famed Cafe San Juan where reservations are essential and folks are oft turned away. Somehow, we manage to score a table and enjoy a delicious meal out.

And we made it home alive!