Dateline – Buenos Aires –
It’s been a rather full day and it’s after midnight local time and I have to get up in the morning for a trip out to the Argentine countryside to mix with some gauchos (the cowboys, not the 70s culottes that enjoyed a very brief vogue) so I’m not going to blather on as much tonight as I do some other times. I’m tired and had a little too much wine with dinner.
The first part of the day was a tour of various neighborhoods of Buenos Aires, some by bus but mostly by foot which is much more to my taste. We are staying in the Recoleta neighborhood which is sort of the BA version of Mayfair or the Upper East Side – full of embassies, wealthy beaux arts and art deco mansions, ritzy boutiques and modern high end high rise apartments. I’ve done a little walking around. It’s all very nice but how many Chanel bags or Gucci loafers does one need? So off the bus went a few blocks to Avenue Nueve de Julio which is the main boulevard of town and about twenty lanes across, leading towards the Plaza de Mayo and the important government buildings. Casa Rosada (with necessary Evita moment with the balcony) – check. National cathedral (former home of Pope Francis when he was a lowly archbishop) – check. Various government buildings in various 19th century architectural styles – check. Next on to the neighborhood of San Telmo, the heart of the Spanish colony which eventually developed into the city. There are still remains of colonial architecture including repurposed Spanish pueblas, cobble stone streets (I did not fall today), and lots of funky shops selling all sorts of things you have no real use for. It reminded me a good deal of the older parts of San Francisco.
The last neighborhood stop was at Boca at the harbor. This was the first stop for most of the 19th and early 20th century immigrants. Argentina, like the US, is mainly a country built by immigration and most people have immigrant grandparents or great-grandparents. 40% of the population of Buenos Aires, for instance, is of Italian descent. The shanty town aspect of the area is now celebrated, having been painted in all sorts of vibrant colors and filled with T-shirt and souvenir shops where you can get all the usual tchotchkes, lots of things dedicated to soccer stars Maradonna and Messi, and everything you can think of emblazoned by a local cartoon character Mafalda who seems to be an Argentine version of Nancy or Little Lulu from the old funny pages. I bought some street art and some leather goods. After a number of years of financial instability, the Argentinian peso isn’t worth much – about 1100 pesos to the dollar. The locals love an infusion of foreign currency.
Lunch was at a famous Buenos Aires cafe – Cafe Tortoni which has been in operation since the 1850s. It’s very old world European in feeling and looks very much like Manet’s ‘A Bar at the Follies Bergere’ could have been painted there. The food was not as fine as the ambiance. Or maybe after so many days of overeating very rich meals my system is starting to rebel. I came back to the hotel afterwards, took a nap and then went for a walk through the park to people watch and afterwards had some ice cream. With such a large Italian population, the ice cream is excellent.
Tonight’s dinner was dinner and a show at the Tango Porteno dinner theater. Three course dinner with wine and champagne (I did not feel like large cuts of meat so settled for the soup and the ravioli followed with white chocolate mousse) and then a live and in person tango show with a cast of 22 showing off their prowess as dancer athletes with all sorts of tango steps. The trouble with dinner theater is usually either the dinner or the theater is subpar. Both were perfectly adequate but uninspiring. It’s a huge cavern of an auditorium designed to introduce hundreds of tourists at once to the world of tango and reminded me of nothing so much as cruise ship dining followed by a revue on the main stage. I give the meal a B+. Given the number of plates they have to turn out rapidly, it would be hard for them to get much better. The show is flashy, well staged, full of technical flourishes, but about thirty minutes of material stretched to eighty. If they had put in a through line of some sort or given more visual interest to the dances so that they didn’t all end up kind of looking the same. And, if I were directing, I would have told the first violinist to rethink the hair. Under stage light, it looks as if he has a dead capybara glued to his skull.
Back to the hotel late and now I write this before finding something on TV to help me drift off. When I watch something in a language in which I’m not fluent, I get just enough of the words and drift to start making up highly entertaining alternate lines and plots which help knock me out all the sooner. I’m strange that way. To bed, to bed…
Life, The Universe, and Everything 