B.A. The city of Evita, parillas, tango and wine. What is there not to love? Certainly, we can think of nothing.
Bill and I flew in from Rio and met Bill's sister, Bonnie, at the airport. She had sustained a long couple of days flying in from Seattle before having to wait in the airport for five hours for us.
The weather was bleak. Drizzling and overcast skies rarely give you an accurate first glimpse of a new place. The buildings, the whole feel, did not initially live up to our high expectations. Expectations built by other backpackers, usually a reliable source for us.
We arrived at our hostel in Palermo Viejo, the SoHo of the city, and decided to take it easy on the first day. We settled our things into an old mansion that had been converted into a hostel and walked down the street to the supermarket for some wine, cheese, and fruit. It was at this point that our opinions started to change for the better. We started to look and thought that our eyes must be fooling us. Bottles of wine for less than $1. OK, so perhaps that is the Boone's of Argentina...I can't personally say one way or another. But what I can attest to is that as we continued to look, we found that the good, middle of the road wines were only $3 or so per bottle.
It was a good night.
The next two days we toured the downtown area - first visiting La Casa Posada (the pink house) where Evita from her balcony addressed the people down below in Plaza Mayo. This was followed by a walk around Plaza Mayo and a tour inside the beautiful Modern Cathedral. We continued on to Congress, the tower at Retiro and the docks of Puerto Madero - the new epicenter of B.A. gastronomy.
Friday evening, we went to Café Tortino for a tango show. The café is dated from the late 1800s and rivals any of the finest cafes in Paris with its intricate mahagony tables and bar and the warmth of the sun through its stain glassed windows.
We sat at a four-person table and were soon joined by Juan, a porteño that decided to catch his first show at the famous salon. We speak little Spanish, but he spoke even less English, so Spanish it was. Nothing that two bottles of vino tinto cannot overcome. Some day Bonnie, Bill and myself will have to compare notes as to what we think was discussed that evening. When not speaking a foreign language EVERYTHING is up for interpretation.
The tango began and I was instantly entranced. It truly is like no other dance in the world and its seductiveness cannot be disputed. To put it simply and crudely it is just awesome. The dance comprises four songs each separated by an interlude from the accompanying band of piano, guitar and accordian players. The music varies between slow and fast, but is always melancholic. It is a dance that originates from the barrios but was perfected in the European salons of the early 1900s. Sharp kicks symbolize knives piercing bodies and the twists and turns move along in a sly yet sensuous manner.
I cannot say if the songs were interwoven or not. [In fact, if one of our readers knows, we would love to know.] By the end, Bonnie and I were mesmerized though. I don't know if it's possible to watch without dreaming that you can dance like that.
The dance ended and Juan was so kind that he picked up our tab. He refused to have it any other way. Just one more example of the kindness of strangers and the kindness that we continue to experience on this trip.
Just a few days in though and one thing was for certain - we were smitten with Buenos Aires.
- Chrissy