I spent the four hour bus ride from Rosario to Buenos Aires writing on my laptop and staring out the window. The bus rolled into the Terminal de Omnibus on the Rio de la Plata in the North side of the city at about 8pm. I grabbed my things and caught a cab at the front of the bus station to my hostel, The Art Factory San Telmo, as recommended to me by Brody in Cordoba.
Buenos Aires is the capital city of Argentina and the second largest city in South America (after Sao Paulo, Brazil). It is sometimes referred to as ‘the Paris of South America.’ An apt characterization due to it’s cosmopolitan atmosphere, extraordinary architecture, fashionable style, intimate sidewalk cafes and restaurants, and flourishing art scene. It is the fourth largest city in the Americas after only Mexico City, New York, and Los Angeles. As such, it has the frenetic big city feel, congestion, and chaos, yet, somehow, in a more moderated, typically relaxed, South American way. Buenos Aires was founded in the 1500’s, making it, I believe the technical term is, old AF. My home town, Chicago, boasts of impressive classical architecture often featuring large, elaborate stone buildings, but in Buenos Aires, especially in El Centro, nearly every building is a piece of art. Much like New York City, it is an extremely multicultural city with several different languages spoken and several ethnic neighborhoods (ie Barrio Chino or ‘Chinatown’). The city lies on the Rio de la Plata, a river that leads inland, making it an important port city that ships goods to the rest of South America. Additionally, the city serves as a major financial and industrial center, making it one of the wealthiest cities in the world. I could go on and on describing Buenos Aires, but suffice to say it is a massive, lovely city with rich history that should be visited!
Thirty minutes later I was dropped off on a quiet (for a big city) side street about 10 blocks south of El Centro. I rang the buzzer and ascended two flights to be checked into a colorful hostel. All the walls were painted with eclectic murals, yet the place retained a traditional feel to it. It was one of the cooler hostels I stayed at. As I was leaving the check in counter to find my room, the receptionist gave me a token good for a free drink in the bar.
It took me a good 10 minutes to find my room going through the zigzagging, muraled hallways of the hostel. Eventually, I found my four bed dorm, claimed one of the two empty beds, and then wandered to find the bar to redeem my drink token. There I met a cute blonde chick, Emily from Wyoming, and a crazy Mexican guy, Cesar. I had a whiskey and coke while hanging out with my new compadres.
After a spell, it was already almost 10pm and I hadn’t eaten since noon. I couldn’t convince anyone to come out to eat with me, so I got directions to a the trendy area of the San Telmo neighborhood, and set out on foot to find some grub.
It was a decent walk, 15-minutes, through the big, dark city of Buenos Aires before I found some decent looking restaurants. My first impression of the city was that it immediately has the intimidating big city feel to, similar to a place like New York City, yet distinctly different, older. Most of the bars and restaurants were packed with young people. I was all by my lonesome so opted for a quiet looking pizzaria. They did it! They made an passble, nay, outstanding pizza. I ordered a Calabrese pizza (topped with chorizo), and it was delicious. Turns out most pizza in BA is actually really good, owing to the heavy Italian influence in Argentina. I ate the fuck out of that pizza and two Calafate beers, which pretty much put me into a food coma and made me promptly ready for bed after taking a different, longer route back to the hostel.
The next morning, I went out and collected some eggs and vegetables from shops in the three blocks surrounding the hostel. I made my typical big breakfast feast, then showered and took a 15-minute walk to the Plaza del Mayo for a free walking tour at 10am.
At the plaza, I couldn’t find the guide nor a group of people for the tour. I ran into the two guys I was sharing my dorm room with, and they were there for the same tour, but also couldn’t find the guide. We teamed up and started asking people about the tour, but couldn’t come up with anything. By about 10:30am, we were bummed out and concluded the tour wasn’t to be. They decided they were going to walk to the river and do their own tour, and graciously asked me if I wanted to join. I said what the hell, and met Ariel and Gabriel, two French Jews.
We set off walking down Avenida Pena towards the Obelesk. When walking near the Plaza in downtown Buenos Aires, I was amazed how busy it was. There was more foot traffic than any other big city I’d been to including Mexico City and Panama City. We were in an area that reminded me of Michigan Avenue in Chicago, but the traffic on the sidewalks was far denser. The three of us would continually get seperated from each other in the currents of people, then have to wait for the others to catch up.
I think we must have looked like Japanese tourists as we made our way to Avenida 9 de Julio and the Obelisk, looking up and marveling at all the buildings and sites along the way. We kept up our tourist schtick, and snapped a couple pictures at El Obelisco and La Plaza de la Republica, a big landmark in the middle of the downtown area of Buenos Aires. Then we walked all the way down Avenida Corrientes to see La Puente de la Mujer (Bridge of the Woman), stopped in a few shops along the boardwalk, and took a rest in a park overlooking a swampy laguna that leads to El Rio de la Plata on the north side of the city.
All that walking around the city made us hungry. Ariel and Gabriel are pretty hardcore Jewish, so they needed to find a Kosher restaurant to eat. I said why not, and took the subway with them to the Jewish neighborhood of BA. They pulled out the Yalmalkas, and we dined at an upscale Kosher restaurant they had previously Googled.
After lunch, A & G went to do some shopping in the Jewish neighborhood, and I caught the subway back to San Telmo. I took a siesta back at the hostel until about 5pm, then found Emily in the hostel bar and joined her. We knocked back a few drinks and some pizza while getting to know one another.
Later, we joined up with Manuel from Puerto Rico and a group of Argentines partying on the patio. The Argentines were doing their typical parilla (barbecue) thing on the patio, and let us join in on some of the food.
As 1am rolled around, true to the typical late night, Porteno schedule of Argentina, it was time to go out. I was already tuckered out and thinking of going to bed. Emily ran off to change, and came back in a sexy, high cut dress. When asked if I wanted to go out, I waffled. Emily looked at me with her big eyes, and made it clear she really wanted to go out and wanted another fluent English speaking person to come with so she felt safe. In that dress, with that plea for help, it’s not in my power to say no. I went off to put on a nice shirt and splashed some cold water on my face. Fifteen minutes later a big group of us were in line for a boliche (nightclub) in San Telmo.
After a bit in the boliche, Manuel was disappointed with the club. He’d been to BA many times, and had promised Emily a big time boliche experience. He decided he was going to take us to the trendy Palermo neighborhood for a better experience. And he was footing the bill. Ummm, OK! None of the other Argentines wanted to go to Palermo, so Manuel, Emily, and I piled into an Uber and went to Plaza Serrano. There we stopped in a couple of different spots until we settled on Brujas Club, where there was a ‘You Got Served’ style dance competition going on inside. It was pretty awesome to watch.
After the competition, Emily pulled me onto the dance floor, and shit got real. We were both pretty drunk at this point, and before long we were unabashedly grinding on each other like animals. Next thing I know we were making out, and before long she was guiding my hands up her legs and short skirt as we danced. We had a few more drinks together, making out and dancing the night away. We lost Manuel in the madness.
Pretty soon it was already 6am. I was pretty wrecked and needed to get home before things went awry. As we headed outside, Emily was stumbling all over the place. The sun was already rising as we emerged from the club. I had a bit of trouble containing Emily as I looked for a cab. Shit was hitting the fan very quickly. Finally, I got and cab, corralled Emily, and we piled the 20-minute drive back to our hostel in San Telmo.
By the time we’d arrived, Emily was nearly incoherent and I had to help her out of the cab and into her bed once inside the hostel. I guess we should have left two hours earlier, but the energy of the boliche whipped us into some kind of frenzy that chewed us up and spit us out before we’d realized what happened.
I slept until 3:30pm, and rose briefly to use the bathroom and chug some lemon infused water. My head was thumping, and I still felt wiped from the dopamine dump the prior night. I went back to bed until 6pm, at which point I finally dragged myself from bed and into the shower. Cleaning up made me feel better, but I was still very low energy. I looked around for Emily, but she was nowhere to be found. I asked Manuel and others if they’d seen her, but nobody had. I peaked into her room, and she wasn’t in her bed, so at least I knew she was alive and kicking. It was probably a good thing she wasn’t around, I just wanted to avoid people, eat some dinner, watch a movie in bed, and call it a day.
I took a long walk around the San Telmo neighborhood for some fresh air in cool evening. It was Friday and the nightlife was starting up as groups of people popped in and out of restaurants and bars. I again tried to avoid any type of loud, energetic place, and found a small, quiet sandwich shop. I sat in the corner and watched a soccer game on the TV for an hour, while enjoying a typical, meaty Argentine sandwich the size of my head, and two orders of spicey fries. Just what I needed.
I took a 30-minute walk back to the hostel exploring to the southeast of San Telmo. I inadvertently walked by a skid-row/homeless/addict encampment on a dark sidewalk, but luckily was able to pass by quietly, without incident. I made it back to the hostel, and curled up in bed at about 10pm. I wasn’t getting good enough wifi to watch a movie, so instead read for about 2 hours until I fell asleep.
After a big breakfast and several cups of coffee, I headed out to see more of the city. It was Saturday, so there were a lot of things going on. I first stopped at a street market situated around a small plaza in San Telmo. I perused the stalls and vendors for a while, and bought a striking handmade purple agate necklace from a sweet, older, artisan lady.
At noon in the park, there was a tango show. Tango shows are a thing you have to see while in Buenos Aires. I sat at a patio table, ordered an espresso, and sat and watched two pairs of dancers perform sexy tango dancing.
After about 30-minutes, I had the gist of the tango buzz, and headed to the Congreso Nacional for a walking tour of El Centro at 1pm. The tour hit most of the significant historical and government buildings in that area and lasted until 3pm.
Afterwards, I was pooped from all the walking, and headed back to the hostel where I sat in the living room and wrote until about 6pm. Then I found my way up to the terrace where a bunch of people were hanging out, getting high, having a few beers, and playing with juggling clubs and hula hoops. Somehow, I ended up meeting a beautiful Argentine girl, Karina, who lived in BA and was visiting the hostel to meet her friend who worked there. Next thing I know, I’m also chatting with Leticia a young, beautiful Brazilian girl (like really, really beautiful, think Adriana Lima), and another cutie Martia from Cordoba. I was holding court with three beautiful ladies, and they were really interested in the American guy. We got to know each other as we took turns goofing around trying to hula hoop and learn to juggle while sharing some beers as joints went around. It was good fun and I was in heaven for a while, but eventually things dissolved as Karina went out with her friend and Leticia and Martia went to see a sold-out tango show at a theater at 9pm.
I headed out for dinner, and wound up at Che Tacos. I sat at the bar and chatted with the bartender/owner who was Argentine, but had lived half his life in Texas. I had a giant burrito and a couple of beers, then wandered the streets for a while and returned to the hostel. I hung out with a trio of German dudes on the terrace for an hour, but then retired, still worn out from the boliche bender two nights prior, as they headed out to party.
The next morning was Sunday, and I had the place to myself, which was weird in such a big, busy hostel (most of the guests were out late partying). I ran some errands and gathered groceries, then returned to the hostel to have a yoga and meditation session on the terrace in the cool, grey morning air. I finally felt back to normal, fully recovered from the big boliche night. I made some food for the day, then sat in a small nook off of the living room playing poker for most of the day. I won two smaller buy in tournaments, for a nice profit on the day.
The next morning, I bought tickets to go to the Argentina vs Venezuela World Cup qualifying match taking place the next night. I’d been wanting to go to a soccer game all the while I’d been traveling and somehow hadn’t yet. The ticket package offered by the hostel, which included transport to and from the game, a guide, a burger, and a beer, was expensive, but I said fuck it, life is short, and ponied up the cash.
After buying the tickets, I was psyched, and set out to get an Argentina Nacional soccer team jersey so I looked the part the next day (totally unnecessary, but I wanted a souvenir too). I headed to Lavalle and Florida streets, which are two big pedestrian streets with tons of shops to look for a jersey. It wasn’t easy to find one, as most of the jerseys were ridiculously price gouged (going for $80-120, when online the same jerseys were ~$30), and other shops had, how shall I say, ‘not official,’ janky looking jerseys they were trying to pawn off as legit. I spent way too long looking for a jersey and was about to give up when I ducked into one last galeria, and found a small shop with jerseys. They didn’t have anything in my size, but when I asked, the old gentleman cashier pulled out a box of brand new official Lionel Messi Argentina National Adidas jerseys still in plastic wrapping. I asked how much, and he replied casually, ‘quinientos’. Boom! Score! 500 ARS or ~$25 for exactly what I was looking for. I happily gave him the cash and then went wandering through downtown Buenos Aires the rest of the afternoon. I passed by a deli that had a line out the door, so I figured it must be good. I bought a sandwich and took it to a nearby park, and ate it while sitting at the base of tree while feeding flocks of pigeons with crumbs of bread.
I continued site seeing and stopped at several places including the Cathedral, the Modern Art museum (which unfortunately was being renovated), and the Casa Rosada (Presidential Palace).
As the sun was setting, I headed back to the hostel and made a cup of tea while reading for a bit. About 8pm, I ran into Leticia and asked her if she wanted to go out for dinner to which she agreed. Score! I hadn’t been to an Argentine Parilla restaurant yet (a steakhouse serving giant slabs of world famous Argentine Pampas beef–a must while in BA), so proposed that, and off we went. I’m going to a fancy steakhouse with a beautiful Brazilian girl?! Yes!
I had previously researched a highly rated steakhouse nearby, and 10 minutes later we arrived at La Gran Parilla de la Plata in San Telmo. It was packed, but somehow there was a single table for two open. Wow! Things are really going my way right now!
I wanted to do it right, so ordered a nice bottle of Malbec. We had a really lovely dinner together, and great conversation. She was 23, an economics student and intern in Sao Paolo, on her way to becoming a big time financier. She was shocked when I started talking economics, international finance, and geopolitics with her, criticizing the interest rate environment and central bank shennanigans. She couldn’t believe her ears, and was delighted to have someone to nerd out with. I recommended her a few books, particularly ‘Economics in One Lesson’ by Henry Hazlitt, which I told her would illuminate her and give a different perspective from what she was being taught in university.
I had an Ojo de Bife (ribeye) that was an inch thick and the size of a disk golf putter with some mashed squash and grilled asparagus. It was cooked to a perfect medium rare and so tender it nearly melted in my mouth. The steak and wine together, and sharing it with this lovely, exotic girl, was incredible. It was one of the single best dinners I’d had during my travels. With the bottle of wine the total bill came out to ~$90. Not bad. It’d be more than double back home. Buenos Aires parillas are for real!
After dinner, we took a walk through the neighborhood and stopped at a park along the way. We were having a really great time together when she revealed she needed to get to bed soon, she was flying to Santiago for the last week of her vacation early in the morning. Damn. I walked her home, and we exchanged contact info and a lingering hug before saying goodbye. I went to the terrace and smoked a cigarette while reading and looking down on the street below before I retired to bed.
The next day I spent more time wandering around El Centro. Even having been in Buenos Aires for a week and having gotten to know my surroundings fairly well, I was still in awe walking through the city. I liked just walking through the streets which were lined by old, classical, towering buildings. I spent a while having a coffee at the window of a cafe while reading and watching people pass by.
In the afternoon, I returned to the hostel and met up with the group going to the futbol match and our guide. We boarded a bus and were shuttled off towards Estadio River Plate near the river on the north side of the city. Along the way, our guide Javy, taught us several of the songs that the crowd would be singing throughout the game (./~ Aloweeyyy Oaloooweeyyy, El que no salta es un Ingles! ./~), and several, ahem, Spanish terms (read: insults) that might be thrown around at the players, opposing team, refs, other fans, anyone really.
We stopped at a bar near the stadium, where the ~20 people in our group had about an hour to hang out, pound some beers (they do NOT serve alcohol at the stadium because shit gets too out of hand) and burgers before heading to the stadium at 6:30 for the 7pm start time. I made friends with Sam and Dan from Portland, OR. We joked about the weirdness that is Portland, and hung out for the rest of the evening. They were pretty big soccer fans and brought me up to speed on the World Cup qualifying situation. Last week, Argentina had played Uruguay in a qualifying match that ended a tie, 0-0. Normally, Argentina would have handily beaten Uruguay. Since the two countries are good friends and allies, there was media speculation that the teams agreed before the match to soft play each other so they could both qualify. The match tonight versus Venezuela was supposed to be an easy victory for Argentina which would give them a 2018 World Cup berth.
Javy loaded the group back onto the bus and we headed toward the stadium, being let off about three blocks away as the the police had a two blocks perimeter blocked off around the stadium, requiring a ticket and pat down to get through the barricades. Our group made it through the chaos at the perimeter and Javy led us inside and up to our seats. The seating was a mess as people don’t generally sit in their assigned seats, but eventually our group got situated just as pregame warm ups were ending and the starting lineups were being introduced.
The game was quite an experience. The crowd was generally standing, often arm in arm, or dancing/jumping while singing for more than 60% of the game. The stadium wide chants and songs were really cool, much more sustained and impactful than any chants you might encounter in North American sports. It was a real treat to watch Lionel Messi (one of the greatest footballers to ever live) play. At one point he made a dazzling manuever with the ball to somehow get by two or three defenders and pass it to a teammate for a wide open shot that was blasted over the net to the outrage of the crowd. Argentina scored about halfway through the first half. They nursed the lead until mid way through the second half when a Venezuelan striker received a fluke ball behind the Argentina defense and was one on one with the goalie for an easy score. The stadium went silent and the thousand or so Venezuelans in the crowd celebrated like they had just won the World Cup. The crowd was disgusted and hurling vicous insults and echoing mean spirited chants the rest of the way. The game ended in a 1-1 tie. The tie would put Argentina’s chances of making it into the World Cup up in the air, an idea that would’ve been unfathomable two weeks prior. (Argentina would go on to win a playoff game vs. Ecuador two weeks later to get into the World Cup.) The Arentines took it as a loss, and were very unhappy. Javy worried about violence and rioting after the game. Luckily, we made it out of the stadium and onto the bus without encountering anything of the like.
I was eventually dropped off back at my hostel, and I went up to the bar for a nightcap. No one was in the bar, not even the bartender, so I took the cue and called it a night.
The next day, I decided to move to the Palermo neighborhood. The Art Factory has a hostel in Palermo too, and I’d liked the one in San Telmo, so I booked a room at the sister hostel and took a cab over there at about 2pm. My room wasn’t ready, so I put my bags into storage and then went out to wander the neighborhood.
Once into the streets surrounding Plaza Serrano you’re bombarded by a never ending deluge of chic cafes, bars, restaurants, and shops. I stopped in a few natural foods shops, an artisan meat and cheese shop, and a trendy lunch place. After lunch, I explored the open spaces of the many parks to the northeast of Palermo near the river, including Plaza Italia, the Botanical Garden, Plaza Sicilia, and el Paseo del Rosedal. All the walking made me tired and I laid in the grass at one of the parks for a short siesta, before finally walking 2.5 miles back to my hostel.
On the way I picked up a couple of beers. Once home, I relaxed in the kitchen eating salami, olive oil drenched Italian bread, and cheese and sipping glasses of beer while researching NFL football for the fantasy football draft of the league I manage back home. I spent about two hours researching players before the draft started at 8pm CST, but still felt like I didn’t have much of a clue what I was doing during the draft. What can I say? I’m just not that interested in following sports any more. Sports: the opiate of the masses. Either way, it was fun to do a live online draft and chat with my buddies back home.
After the draft, I packed my stuff up and was sitting in the kitchen finishing my beer, when a Swiss guy asked me about my Bitcoin shirt. At this time, the price of a single Bitcoin was approaching $5000 and therefore getting a lot of media attention. “Well it’s kinda like a Swiss bank account in your pocket,” I told him jokingly to poke fun at his nationalitly. Then promptly changed tone and told him I’m being serious about the Swiss bank account in your pocket thing. I proceeded to spend an hour talking with this guy about Bitcoin, why it’s important, how it works, how it incentivises participants, and how it will reconfigure the economic and monetary world order. He was a smart guy (most Swiss are) and easily grasped the ideas. Frankly, some of it blew him away. Our conversation ended with me helping him set up a wallet and sending him $20 to play around with. When it appeared in his wallet, 10 seconds after I hit send, he lit up and exclaimed with his thick German accent, “That’s it? It’s that easy? Oh my goodness, this is sooo COOL!” Yes, sir. Bitcoin is going to eat the world.
The next morning, I spent a lot of time exploring more of Palermo. Buenos Aires is so big and awesome, there’s so much to see. Similar to Mexico City, you could spend weeks there and have new places to explore every day. I started out going to a crafts fair in Plaza Serrano, then had brunch at nearby B-Blue Deli. I then wanted to head over to the Recoleta neighborhood to see the ancient architexture and buildings, a must in Buenos Aires. I took the subway, but got lost on the way and had to get off and back on the train and stare at the subway map in different stations like a confused tourist a couple of times before I got it right.
Once in Recoleta, I walked around admiring the classical architecture of the gaudy buildings. Recoleta is a neighborhood where the rich landowners built mansions back in the day. As such there’s hundreds of towering, extravagant stone houses in the neighborhood, many of which have been converted into foreign embassies.
I got some gellato from a street vendor, then headed to the Museo de las Bellas Artes. I spent way too long inside the museum looking at all the hundreds-of-years-old art, mostly paintings and sculptures, considering it was a nice, sunny day outside.
I emerged at about 5pm, and headed over to the Recoleta Cemetary (another must), but was unfortunately informed that the cemetary was closing at 5:30, and I wouldn’t be able to enter. Boooo.
Instead, I spotted several bars and cafes across the way with patios of umbrella shaded tables and chairs that were filling up with people just finishing the workday. I got a table and ordered tall beer and guacamole while people watching until the sun disappeared. It then started getting cool, and I hurried to the subway to get back to Palermo.
Back at the hostel, I hoped to find some amigos do go out for a dinner and drink with. As cool and happening as the Art Factory San Telmo, the Palermo version of the hostel was comparatively much more low key and quiet. There never seemed to be many people around to meet and hang with, aside from the staff. That’s ok, soy muy independiente!
I went out for dinner to Burger Joint a few blocks away, said to have one of the best burgers in South America. The place was like somewhere you’d see on DD&D, with walls that are covered with marker written grafitti and messages from previous guests and loud rock and roll music playing. It was super crowded. So crowded, I almost said fuck it and went somewhere else, but instead I waited in line for 10 minutes and ordered a combo of burger, fries, and beer. I looked for a table, but there wasn’t free seat to be found, so I had to stand around akwardly while waiting for my order to be called, then had to stand at a ledge by the front window to eat it. Not the most comfortable situation, but fortunately the burger was indeed fantastic. Best in SA? I don’t know, but well worth the wait and having to eat it standing crampedly.
After the burger, I walked the streets of Palermo, and saw the many bars starting to fill up. It’d been a week since my late night boliche bender, so the festive bars I passed by made me ready for more partying. I got some gelatto, and ate it as I headed back to the hostel to recruit some partymates. But the hostel was still quiet with no compadres to be found. I texted Emily, but she wanted to stay in and go out the following night. Oh well. I curled up with a book and got to bed earlyish.
The next morning, I made a lazy breakfast, then headed back to Recoleta for a free walking tour, including the cemetery, at 10:30am. We had a great guide, and it was cool to get the history behind several of the buildings and houses I had seen the prior day.
The Recoleta Cemetery was indeed something to behold. It is a high-walled stone urban cemetery. Not very large in size. It has the highest real estate value per square foot in the entire world, as people bid mind boggling sums for a tiny plot to be entombed. There are all types of large, elaborate tombs encasing many of the richest and most powerful Argentines of all time. Eva Peron (Don’t Cry for me Argentina) is buried here. Several of the tombs are 400+ years old, and some tombs are in disrepair where corpses are visible. Morbid.
After the tour, I spent a while wandering the cemetary. There are several cats that live in the cemetary. Not surprising to me, as I believe Cats are interdimensional creatures whom are probably right at home amongst the spirits drifting through the cemetary. In a desolate corner of the the cemetary, one such cat, a white cat with blue eyes, was sitting in the center of an aisle, preemptively staring at me when I turned the corner. We made eye contact and he sat there peacefully for a moment, fixated on me. Then he silently walked right up to me, sat at my feet, and stared up into my eyes. I petted him for a bit, then he stayed by my side (literally within like two feet of me) for the next 20 minutes as I walked the maze of crypts. I told him I had to leave and said goodbye while petting him, but he followed me towards the cemetary gate. For a moment, I thought he was going to leave alongside me, but the moment I set foot outside the cemetary gate, he sat at the boundary and watched me depart. Weird.
I took the subway back to the hostel, and when I arrived, the guy at the front desk informed me I would need to find another place to stay. I had only reserved two nights at the hostel, and before I left for the tour, I had failed to arrange to stay more nights. Frankly, I didn’t think it would be a problem as the hostel had been kind of quiet the last few days, but while I was gone all the beds in the hostel got booked up. It was Friday, so that made sense. I spent a few minutes looking online, and found another decent looking hostel about six blocks away, Eco Pampa Hostel. I packed up, paid my bill, and moseyed on over there at about 3:30pm.
This hostel was actually closer to the center of Palermo where all the bars and restaurants are, and had a better vibe about it, so I was happy with the move. I went out for a late lunch to La Fabrica del Tacos, which had really good, authentic style Mexican food.
Afterwards, I stopped at an artisinal market in Plaza Serrano on the way home. The afternoon had turned into a grey, drizzly affair, so wasn’t inspiring me to do anything other than relax. Back at the hostel, I had a short nap, then spent a while writing in the living room.
As the night progressed, I met several of the other guests at the hostel, particularly Mika, an Argentinian girl in the process of moving to BA, and Ricard from Quebec. We had a couple of beers together, then decided to go out. Mika had a few places she wanted to try out, so she led the way as we hopped into an Uber and wound up at a trendy speakeasy type place. It was dark with a candle lit ambiance and many lounge chairs and couches. It reminded me of the Violet Hour in Chicago, but with a more open feel to the place and a more old-fashioned decor.
The hostess seated us next to a pair of older businessmen looking gents, and one of them took interest in our group because we were all speaking English. Turns out he was an Argentinian gentleman who had spent most of his life growing up in Georgia, and now split his time between Argentina and Atlanta. He spoke perfect Spanish and English, was wealthy, and took good care of us while at the speakeasy, including buying us a round and giving us recommendations for the city. We had a few custom cocktails, before Mika’s friend showed up. He was from BA and promised to take us to a fantastic Boliche.
We popped in a cab, and wound up on Calle Fitz Roy, about 10 blocks northwest of the center of Palermo, where there’s a bunch of nightclubs. Mika’s friend led us into the velvet rope cordoned line of a big, luxurious looking boliche. Once inside the place reminded me more of a college bar or bar you might find in a place like Cancun. It was just a big open space with dance floor and DJ, and bars on the three walls surrounding the dancefloor. The music was so loud you couldn’t have a conversation. Smoke and laser lights flashed over the empty dancefloor. Everyone was standing around the outside of the dancefloor, trying to look cool. Mika went off some place with her friend, leaving Ricard and I at the bar. We joked that we needed to get way drunker for this bar, then unjokingly went to the bar and ordered four jack and cokes for the two of us. We slammed those down, then did a roshambo to see who would be the first to approach one of the many groups of girls standing around the dancefloor. I lost and wandered up to a group of five or six good looking girls, and did my best. “Hola chicas! Viven muy incredible esta noche!” This received barely a smile or even an acknowledgement from the ladies. I turned to the girl closest to me, “Hola, linda. Como te va?” To which she smiled a little, but didn’t reply and turned away from me. Wah Wah Wahhhh. Tough crowd in here.
I returned to Ricard, who was patted me on the shoulder in consolation while laughing. “Your turn!” I exclaimed, and he downed his drink and headed towards another group of girls. One minute later, he sheepishly returned, similarly rejected. We laughed our asses off. The girls at this boliche were all done up and dressed to the nines with short skirts and high heels, but all of them were just standing around in little groups looking unhappy. They were barely even talking with any of the Argentine guys.
“Fuck this,” I thought, and texted Emily. She was out in Palermo and down to meet up. She arrived with a friend about 30 minutes later–perfect for Ricard and I. We all had a couple of drinks, then hit the dancefloor. We were four of about eight people total on the huge dancefloor. Emily and I commented how lame this boliche was compared to the one we went to last week.
After a while, it was about 3am. I was over it. I asked Emily if she wanted to get out of here, to which she said yes. We said goodbye to everyone, then went back to my hostel, knowing Mika and Ricard, my only two bunkmates were still at the club. Unfortunately, the receptionist denied Emily entry due to a ‘no guests after midnight’ policy. We hung out in the living room for a bit, making out, getting a bit hot and heavy. She was staying in a fully occupied six bed dorm, so there was no opportunity to go there. We discussed sneaking into the bathroom together to get naughty, but decided it wouldn’t work. Damn, life is hard on a couple of horny travelers staying in hostel dormitories.
We made out a bit longer, then went outside for a cigarette. Then, sadly, we said goodbye and I put her in a cab at about 4:30am.
The next day I was destroyed. I slept until the maid turned on the light and started cleaning my room at 1pm, my cue to GTFO (checkout was at 12pm). I thought about extending my stay another day just so I could sleep more, but said F it. It was already the 9th of September, and I had booked a flight home to Chicago from Montevido, Uruguay on the 14th. I needed to get to Montevideo.
I took a quick shower, which provided a small amount of relief from the horror I was feeling when the lights flipped on. I quickly packed up and then paid my bill, and started researching the ferry from BA to Uruguay. I had just missed one at noon, but there was another at 6pm. After many problems with the website, I finally got to my order go through and had a ferry ticket to Colonia, Uruguay. I put my bags into the hostel’s storage closet, then went out for sustenance. I found Burger Lab where I gorged on a giant double cheeseburger and fries with the works which also helped revive me a bit. I wandered the streets of Palermo for a while, and stopped at a craft fair where I bought one final souvenir for my travels.
Back at the hostel, I spent a couple hours lounging in the living room with Mika who was equally hungover. Finally, at 5pm, I called an Uber and was taken 20 minutes to the Busquebus Darsena Norte ferry terminal on a small bay on the Rio de la Plata, not too far from the bus station I originally arrived at. I got my boarding pass at the front desk and checked my big backpack, then went upstairs to go through both sides of immigration, first Argentina then directly to Uruguay at an adjacent kiosk. Everything went incredibly easily, and I was sitting in the lounge at 5:45pm.
I reflected on my time in Buenos Aires. It’s a truly incredible city. I was there for two weeks, but it felt insufficient. I barely even scratched the surface. Like any major city there’s problems with traffic, crime, and pollution, but the energy of the big city combined with the old world charm and Argentine essence makes it one of my favorite places I’ve visited. I could actually see myself living in Buenos Aires–that’s how much I enjoyed it. I hope to return soon, and when I do, hopefully for an extended stay.