Tango and Cash
Trip Start
May 21, 2007
1
28
44
Trip End
Mar 30, 2008
Buenos Aires,
Argentina
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
The apartment seemed perfect - newly decorated, close to everything and set in the middle of the swanky neighbourhood of Recoleta. We'd figured that renting a 1 bed apartment for two weeks would cost us the same as a hostel/hotel, and having the luxury of a couch, TV and kitchen was fantastic. The neighbours looked at us as though we were squatters , but a few quick visits to some fancy Palermo shops found us decked out in some new duds to better blend in.
Argentina is a fantastic country to travel in. Their currency is so far down the toilet that even as a backpacker the prices seem fantastic. And at the same time, the country's infrastructure is amazing - great public transport, fantastic theatres, beautiful boutiques, 8-lane motorways....just like home really. Not. And of course, BsAs was just more of the same....
We had a fantastic time just relaxing and soaking up the Argentinian lifestyle for a fortnight, although we couldn't quite get the hang of the Argie nightlife. Everything kicks off so late, and runs until so early in the morning, that we found ourselves having to take a nap before we went out to make sure we could stay awake. No joking, restaurants didn't open until 9-10pm, some bars didn't open until midnight, and nothing much happened until around 2am. And once it had, it just kept on going until 6am.
Two particular evenings that we did manage to stay awake for really stand out : the first one was a mid-week milonga in Palermo Viejo, where we were treated to one of the most unexpected and real displays of a citys culture I think we've seen so far. A milonga is basically a dancehall for people of all shapes and sizes to come along and tango. We arrived expecting fishnets, sharp suits and high-heels (though not necessarily on the same person) but saw something much more casual and a lot more genuine. Marge and I arrived too late for the lessons (we had probably overslept with our mid-evening nap) and the dancing was in full swing. It was held in a large room that looked like it ran bingo nights on any other day of the week, and we found ourselves a seat and watched as locals filled the floor and danced. The setting was mundane but (and I don't want to come over all Julie Andrews like), the dancing was superb. Dignified, sensual, romantic and extremely personal, the tango is an amazing dance to watch. The room was filled with guys and girls in their 20's and 30's who all knew how to tango (in some cases, it looked like they'd been doing it since birth) and who were there only to dance. Guys would approach a girl, give her the nod and if she liked the look of him they'd prepare for the next set. And even though they'd probably never danced together before, they'd fall into this amazingly complex and intimate routine without the slightest hesitation or misstep. Marge and I just sat there agog, and neither of us had the courage to dare the other to take the floor.
Not so with our second soiree. After a few drinks in one of the only bars we could find that was open while it was still dark, we marched into a recommended club slap in the middle of one of the trendiest parts of the city. It looked like every other nightclub I've been in, filled with yoofs looking cool and getting slowly sozzled. But once you say the dancefloor, you realized you must have been admitted to the Twilight Zone. Instead of bumping and grinding (or whatever passes for dancing in most other clubs) the whole dancefloor was salsa-ing to beat the band. Couples twirled and spun one another, and looked like they were loving it, and I thought to myself, "Marge and I could manage this". A drink was needed to steady my nerves, but just as I was ready to take my partner by the hand, an old black guy got out onto the dancefloor with a microphone and started to arrange all of the dancers in lines behind him. Next thing you know, he's singing away and everyone on the floor is following this perfectly co-ordinated dance routine behind him. It honestly looked like something from 'Grease' or 'High School Musical'. Or maybe more accurately 'The Rocky Horror Picture Show'.
This was a whole other level of dance gauntlet being thrown in front of me, and as such called for another drink to grease my boogie shoes. By the time this had been dispatched (and OK, maybe another one) I was ready to try my hand at the odd samba-ing beat that the music seemed to have morphed into. Marge and I hit the floor, and halfway through the second song, Sinead realised that she was sober enough to see what fools we looked by comparison to the well trained locals, and I was langered enough to feel like John Travolta on roller skates. After a few 'what? we're leaving? but it's bleedin deadly' comments from yours truly, I was pulled from the dancefloor, thrown in a taxi and dumped in the bed.
And so endeth our love affair with Buenos Aires nightlife.
Other than that, our stay was amazing - maybe a few days too long - but we managed to visit La Boca (and the Boca Juniors stadium), the antique markets in San Telmo, Evitas grave in Recoleta Cemetery, the Pink Palace (which is the home of the Argie president and not a gay nightclub), parillas that would make you weep, Tango shows, museums and galleries galore....and we even managed to make friends with the neighbours.
And after two weeks sitting still, we were chomping at the bit to get on the road again and back into those fantastic Argie long distance buses...
