Carlos Gardel, Diego Maradona and Eva Duarte
Trip Start
Apr 29, 2005
1
4
10
Trip End
May 08, 2005
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Buenos Aires,
Argentina
Sunday, May 1, 2005
Everyone recommends San Telmo on Sundays. We take a taxi and are soon at Parque Dorrego, site of the world famous San Telmo Antiques Market. This market has become so famous that it has spawned an endless variety of ancillary entertainment, such as handicraft stalls, impromptu tango shows and a plethora of "living statues" The one that attracts our attention is Carlos Gardel, looking a bit grey around the gills, but alive and well with his fans. If this were Las Vegas, we would see Elvis statues I'm sure.
The centre of the plaza, surrounded by attractive period buildings, is still devoted to the sale of antiques. While strolling though the exhibits, I espy the picture of a ship I seem to recognize. Incredible as it may seem, it is a contemporaneous flyer for the "Reina del Mar", a transatlantic liner I had served on 45 years ago when I was a cadet in the Merchant Navy
01. Carlitos resurrection
. I had sailed for two trips on her from Liverpool through the Panama Canal to Valparaiso. It was strange to find this here, as the ship had never even sailed to Buenos Aires. The flyer is now at home suitably framed. After our fill of antiquities, impromptu tango and living statues, we continue through San Telmo to Parque Ledezma. On the way we stop at the venerable Bar Britanico. Hopefully this bar wasn't stoned during the Falklands conflict. The bar is quite dilapidated, as is the ancient waiter who seems to have worked there since opening day with the same off-white jacket. There's no British beer, but the local Guilmes is very acceptable. We are entertained by further copies of Carlos Gardel, who regale us with musical memories of past times. One can almost imagine that Carlitos played here before fame carried him into the higher stratus of Palermo and Recoleta.
Parque Ledezma is a poor cousin of Plaza Dorrego, with its inevitable craft fair. Beside the park is a legitimate Russian Orthodox Church, onion domes and all.
Now we make a big mistake. We decide to walk all the way down Av. Almirante Brown to La Boca. It doesn't seem far on the map, but it's a long haul. Half way down, we are exhausted, and decide to take the bus. Imagine our consternation when, after we have all struggled aboard, we find we need "fichas" or tokens. No cash accepted!
We continue our hike, and eventually arrive at the shores of Riachuelo, considered the most polluted urban waterway in the world
02. Tango in the Bar Britanico
. It's been cleaned up a little, but you can still smell it a long way off. Past impressive metal bridges we arrive at Caminito. Although this is totally touristy and corny as can be, one has to admit it's lots of fun and certainly colourful. We are immediately taken in hand by a tout extolling the virtues of his restaurant with free tango show. A light lunch and wine (of course) is enjoyed at the sidewalk café, and Bryan is persuaded to tango with the seductive dancer. Later I am dragged out to show everyone how to dance the cumbia, as if I looked Colombian.
After strolling around this vibrant barrio and visiting the atelier of a local artist, we search for a taxi to take us to our next port of call, the elegant Recoleta district. Taxis are so inexpensive here it's almost embarrassing when you read the meter.
Recoleta is another world. Here is upscale Buenos Aires on its Sunday best. We visit one of the world's great hotels, the Alvear Palace. In spite of our somewhat scruffy appearance, we are enticed to take high tea at the elegant palm court. But on viewing the clientele and the menu, we feel we would be somewhat out of place
03. Bryan and...guess who
. Paseo Chabuca Granda leads us across the park to the intriguing cemetery of La Recoleta.
La Recoleta is indeed a "City of the Dead" with streets lined by miniature palaces where the distinguished and wealthy citizens of Argentina rest in relative peace. There is an extensive map at the entrance, and we plan out our route to see the last resting place of Eva Peron. It's not impressive, but very moving. Amongst other greats buried here are presidents and statesmen, sportsmen such as Juan Fangio, the Formula I race driver, and even Susan Barrantes, mother of Sarah Ferguson, the Duchess of York.
After a well earned rest with coffee at a sidewalk café, we take our taxi ride back to the hotel to prepare for our epic overnight journey to Mendoza.
At the bus station we are directed to the platform our vehicle will be leaving from. The modern double-decker looks impressive and we ascend the stairs to the upper floor. We sink into our commodious seats. Surely no airline seat even faintly resembles this. We try out the reclining system and find it lies back fully to make a flat bed.
The motor coach leaves exactly on time. Shortly afterwards our hot dinner arrives, not exactly gourmet, but of sufficient quantity and quality to satisfy. It's even served with wine, though judging by the taste, it is pure plonk, but certainly good enough for getting you drowsy.
The DVD movie is not working well, so with such comfort, we are all soon asleep.
