I think that mornings in Buenos Aires don't actually start until around noon. After a leisurely breakfast at the hostel, noon(ish) is about when Travis and I began our second day of wandering.
We first ventured up to the Plaza de Mayo and the Casa Rosada, where the Perons made Argentina (in)famous and where the president works (but apparently he lives somewhere else). One of our fellow travellers told us that he had heard that the house was originally called that Casa Rosada (the pink house) because it was originally painted with bulls' blood and that now the house is two different colors, the one side still having but blood paint because they ran out of paint halfway through the job. My sources tell me that one of the presidents named the house and that the is pink as a mix of the colors of the two major opposing political parties. They also corroborate the story of the bulls' blood because apparently that substance prevents damage from humidity. Who knows if that's true. The house is two different colors, though - dark pink in the front, and light pink in the back.
After chilling with the random riot police outside the Casa Rosada, we began our walk. What we wanted to accomplish during the day was a general walking tour of San Telmo, the artists' district, and La Boca, the football and Caminito neighborhood. San Telmo was pretty easy to find, since it was really close to the center of town and not sketchy. I could totally see how it was an artist haven (artist being a collective term, since there are not only painters in this area, but also dancers and about a zillion tango spots) - it just gave off that artsy vibe that you know if you know and you don't if you don't. If you don't and you go to San Telmo, trust me, it gives off the vibe. We found the square and walked around admiring the artwork. There was one small painting that I totally wanted to buy, but Travis told me to think about it and how exactly we were going to carry it, so I did. We never ended up going back, although Travis said we could. Now I rather regret not buying it in spite of everything. My own fault - don't make the same mistake! Then we had a little picnic in the middle of the square. It was basically dry bread and an apple. We were sitting next to a little girl who delighted in throwing oranges, so we watched her do that and I wondered who was going to eat them now that they'd hit the ground about 50 times each. I also spotted a little boy who crawled all the way across the square into the cluster of pigeons and dove into them after squatting and watching them for a minute. They flew away. Parents seemed to have no problem letting their children be all over the filthy pavement hereabouts.
Anyway, the square and our San Telmo adventure we both lovely and sedate, but we were still on a mission, and it was not over.
La Boca is a shady neighborhood, and it's quite a hike from our hostel or nearly anywhere. Our roommates who did the same trek the day after us took the metro and then the bus down, and by the end of the day my feet wished that we had, too. Travis delights in walking aimlessly everywhere and dragging me with him. I do go voluntarily, but sometimes I get cranky. This walk was one of those times. We were trying to find the stadium, and I thought that Travis knew where he was going, and he kind of did, but he really didn't. I had seen stadium lights, so we started a new direction and, as luck would have it, walked straight into the stadium. Woot.
Argentina, in case you were unaware, loves its Boca Juniors, and tourists are advised to go with a group when attending a match, because fans tend to get a little rowdy. As we entered La Boca, I think the number of spiritwear and jerseys I spotted quadrupled. No match, though - they're on Saturdays, and we just missed the match against Bolivia. Oh, the Boca Juniors are a football/soccer team. I totally wished that we had been able to see a match. It would have been all kinds of crazy fun.
Caminito is a sort of mini-neighborhood painted brightly in different colors. It seemed to me to house gift shops and artists hawking their works. Souvenirs are pretty standard, but the artwork was extremely variable. Although most of the artists painted tango scenes, often set in Caminito, there were some tango sculptures and some flowers and some generally odd stuff. The artists sat in lawn chairs watching people walk by, stopping to look at work hanging on special screens that just live in the neighborhood. After a first walk-through I sat while Travis continued to caper. I think that the area as a whole is not so big, so he was not gone long. Some buildings are brighter than others, but those lacking in color have abnormally sized people hanging out their windows. Quite a lot of character here.
When Travis rejoined me, we watched tour groups take photos with a couple dressed to tango. They didn't dance - only photos in specific poses - 3 poses for 10 pesos. Travis was persuaded (it didn't take much) to take a picture with the foxy tango lady. He looked pretty good in the makeshift costume, but we both lamented the fact that we were wearing about the most unromantic footwear imagineable: hiking sandals. Flip-flops can at least be carefree. I guess high-top sneakers would have been equally as bad. But Travis looked like he had so much fun that I had to join in. Besides, all the old ladies were too shy to approach the guy (except for this group of Argentine women...), which the old me were not with the lady, so I thought he should get some attention, too. He got really close to my face in all the poses, which makes a good photo, but also makes me not want to breathe, for fear of offending his olfactory organ. I managed.
We walked all the way back to the hostel. It was not as long as the walk to La Boca, but it kept being longer than I expected, and that is always a little let-down. When we got in we plopped down and ate the simple but delicious dinner of fresh tortellini and tomato sauce.
BUT WAIT! You thought I was done, but I must tell you about the most frustrating experience, like, ever. Before we got back to the hostel we looked into Confeteria Ideal to see about a tango show. You see, Lonely Planet says that this is a great place to see an inexpensive show. The guy at the door told us that there would be a show that very evening, and it would begin at 11 p.m. Ergo, at 10:15 we left the hostel with our new roommate (we invited him to come along and take in the show, you see), Jaime of California. When we arrived, we were informed that the show would not in fact begin until midnight. Lovely. But midnight we could deal with. Upstairs where the show was to be there were people dancing all over the dance floor. You might think this would be fun and interesting, and it was for the first number. After that it kind of got to be like watching the same people stuck in time doing the exact same thing for hours and hours. At 12:15 I said we should throw in the towel if we got to 12:30 and nothing happened. Nothing happened, but we stayed. At ten to 1 we had a spark of hope when the floor was cleared and a couple (that looked like two little kids, but who were apparently married) danced a number of their own, which greatly impressed the people who actually could dance, but which was not exactly what you think of or look for in Argentine tango. Then they left the floor and everyone started dancing again! At shortly after 1 I approached the desk and became THAT WOMAN. You know, the crazy lady who gets angry at the management because they're a bunch of big, fat liars. To placate me the manager said the show would start in 10 minutes and gave me a free DVD. I took it. So the couple that was set to dance appeared at 1:15 and they were old. Again, not what you think of. And they were dancing quite slowly and without passion. Again, made the actual dancers impressed, but did not really impress the three of us. Then the band came on and had one number to themselves before the people started dancing again. So we left.
And just so you know, Jaime ordered a water when we came in and it didn't arrive for another hour and a half, and then only because I'd gone to the bar to order another one. Moral of the story: don't go to Confiteria Ideal for a show. Go to dance, and dance the tango. And don't expect speedy service. And the sound system wasn't great for the loudness that they wanted to play the music, so be aware.
Toodles
Erin
More thumbnails ...
20 votes 
