A Fitting End To The Tour

Friday 23 February

Our hotel here in Buenos Aires is another where they do not open the curtains – or the thick blind behind the net curtain – so that all the light is blocked out. It seems to be part of the culture in South American hotels – I suppose it helps to keep the room cool, but you cannot determine what the weather is like. It had been warm when we arrived late last night, so hopefully it would be warm and sunny today. Breakfast was in the basement, so that didn’t answer our query of what to wear. We opted for Tshirts and cut offs, and when we stepped outside with our guide for a tour of the city, we were met with a barrage of heat – it was only 09.00 but temperatures were already up to 30 degrees C.

One of the main squares of Buenos Aires, Plaza de Mayo, marked the site of the first settlement in this area and contains the cathedral and the Pink House, now the President’s workplace. It was only a short walk around the corner from our hotel – a large open concrete space with an obelisk in the centre, and very little shade. Trees lined one side of the plaza, near the cathedral, but street sellers had already bagged all this area with their easels of postcards, jewellery and keyrings, so we had to stand in the sun to listen to our guide. She told us that the original town was situated beside the River Plate, but that, in later times the river was diverted 3 kms to the south, as the port was not deep enough to take the trading ships. From the outside the cathedral was built in French baroque style with eight large grey columns supporting the triangular eaves that were decorated with large white angelic figures. We could see the huge cupola rising behind and we were told the interior was much more classical. The church appeared to be closed – maybe we were too early, but a visit inside was not included in our schedule. We gazed at the “Pink House”, now occupying one complete side of the square. The main entrance under a huge portico was not in the centre of the building, as, when Buenos Aires was being developed into a major city and capital in the late 1800’s, they needed to construct wide avenues leading off the square, and one side of the Pink House was in the path of the proposed thoroughfare, so they just demolished the part in the way! Today the house was undergoing renovation with large areas of scaffolding from which men hung to wield their paintbrushes to transform the dull surface to bright salmon pink walls. Like most of the renovation works and road repairs currently being carried out in the city, it will hopefully be complete before the election of a new President in September – likely to be the current President’s wife!

The obelisk in the centre of the plaza was dedicated to soldiers who had died in the Falklands War, and the ground around was inscribed with a large mosaic circle, divided into segments, each with a knotted headscarf etched in white. These signs represent the group of women who used to come to this spot to mourn their sons and husbands, and protest about the Falklands War. The President of the time banned meetings of this kind – calling them political gatherings – so the women, needing a sign to recognize each other, started wearing white head scarves, and walking around the obelisk every day. They still walk here every Thursday in memory of the lost soldiers.

From here we were taken by minibus through the southern suburbs of Monserrat and San Telmo where the buildings were mostly colonial with tall flat facades and lots of balconies. The first wealthy merchants and land owners lived in this part of town, but today, Monserrat is somewhat dilapidated and in need of some TLC. San Telmo has fared a little better, and now houses the middle classes of the city. We saw the theatre here where we would be going later to see a Tango Show. Further out from the centre was a suburb known as La Boca, a bohemian centre for artists and musicians, where the houses were painted in bright garish colours, and the streets full of pavement café’s! All the suburb streets have been re-cobbled in the last decade in an attempt to return them to their original state. They are very difficult to walk on. We found a lane, filled with brightly coloured houses, above the shops, where lots of paintings were being sold. I would have liked to have bought one showing the Tango Show theatre, but although quite successful in haggling the price down, Colin had walked on – with the wallet – I suppose he was right, how would we keep it flat for the rest of our travels?! Such a shame when logic overrules impetuosity.

Close to La Boca was the old port, built when the river was diverted, to take the larger vessels of the late 19th century. Today it is almost a ghost harbour, with only a few industries lining the sides, and a large old passenger ferry, looking in need of repainting, and acting as a floating museum. It was abandoned as bigger ships arrived at Buenos Aires and a deeper harbour was required. We drove along the riverside, back into the city, to find yet another port that had flourished in the middle of the 20th century, until that too became too small. After lying derelict for 30 years, this area now resembles London Docklands, with the old warehouses turned into smart apartments and restaurants, and paved pathways and gardens lining the river. There is a new pedestrian bridge, that reminded us of the Gateshead bridge – a white construction with a long spike reaching skywards for more than 20 metres at a 60 degree angle – very modern and minimalistic but fits in with the redevelopment of the area. The new port today is situated some distance out of the city.

From here we drove into the northern suburbs – an area of huge mansions – built for the wealthy citizens as they moved to live further out from the centre as the city grew and expanded. These “houses” today are embassies, surrounded by electronic fences and gates. We drove through Recoleta and Palermo, named after the Italian city by the many immigrants who came to the area after the Second World War. Palermo is a huge district and sub-divided into smaller “boroughs” such as Soho and Hollywood. It is an expensive area to live today, and it is the place to buy designer clothes, top class leather coats and footwear and antiques. We then visited the city cemetery – a large walled area in the centre of the city – filled with huge mausoleums in white and black marble with remarkable decorations of cherubs, floral arrangements and insignia appropriate to the person. The Argentineans do not believe in interring their dead underground, and the mammoth buildings each tried to out do their neighbours, within the long narrow lanes – there was hardly any space between each building and they looked like rows of terraced houses. Today only families of those who already have a site here are allowed to be buried within this cemetery. We saw the resting places of several presidents, famous immigrants who had made their fortune in the city, and of course, Eva Peron. This poor lady’s body was sent abroad by her devoted husband when she died, for safety while he built a mausoleum in the cemetery fit for his wife. Unfortunately he died before it was even started. Her body was brought back to Argentina by Peron supporters, only to be dispatched to Italy when riots broke out against Peronism. From here she was moved around, and for many years, people in Buenos Aires did not know where she rested. Eventually she was brought back to Buenos Aires and interred in her family mausoleum. There are several plaques lining each side of the entrance, placed by various factions supporting the Perons, and today it attracts huge numbers of visitors.

Buenos Aires has lots of parks and open spaces and the main roads are up to eight lanes wide, so it has a feeling of freedom and space. We didn’t witness any graffiti or vandalism, although when we returned to the hotel, in an adjoining street, there was a large noisy demonstration with banger fireworks exploding and lots of shouting and drumming. We never did find out what it was in aid of.

We were left to explore the city on our own this afternoon, and Mike pointed us in the direction of Florida Street – a pedestrianised version of Oxford Street – where we could find money exchanges and lots of cafes, as well as hundreds of leather shops mainly selling clothes, shoes and handbags. The first money exchange we went to was absolutely crammed full – the queue forming concentric circles, starting in the centre of the shop and winding its way round and round till it got to the cash desks. It looked like a long wait. The next one we found had two guards on the door, and everyone was escorted inside and placed in a queue depending on the service required. The travelers cheque queue was quite short and the time passed quickly as we chatted to an Australian couple who were also traveling around South America, but the opposite way to us – we exchanged some tips about different venues. Once we had been served at the counter, we had to wait at a different counter for someone else to count out our money. There were about eight people already waiting here, as people from all the different queues wanting cash had to wait here to collect – in an area of at least three feet square! Nothing seemed to be happening except the queue getting longer when we arrived. Eventually, a man handed out a pile of money on a transaction sheet to each person – he had obviously been at his counting desk and when he had about ten piles – no more room on the desk? – he handed the money out all in one go. Another very strange banking system – and not terribly efficient.

We found ourselves a 1930’s style bar and café and ate paninis. Light jazz music played in the background and it was cool inside - the temperatures outside were up in the mid 30’s and the humidity was high – a bit of a change from Ushuaia, where the temperatures were only just in double figures – although that was extremely warm for the time of year there.

We wandered back to the hotel, checked out the swimming pool – no more than a large plunge pool really, but up on the roof, twelve stories up, wit ha great view over the city - and then blogged for a very short while, before it was time to get dressed up for the evening. We took taxis to a waterfront restaurant called “Happening”, where we sat on the verandah. The menu had a few interesting twists on the usual dishes, and I chose roast suckling pig (with lots of crackling!) with sweet potatoes while Colin chose a fillet steak in a pepper sauce with dauphin potatoes. I couldn’t eat anything else, but Colin managed a caramelized apple pancake which he waxed lyrical over until the next morning – I think we all knew he had enjoyed it. All the dishes were absolutely delicious, and the whole group enjoyed their meals.

After dinner we took another fleet of taxis - this time to the theatre – the Almacen, in the San Telmo district – a small intimate theatre reminiscent of vaudeville days, all red velvet and dark wood. It was possible to eat at the theatre prior to the show, but Mike said, and we had been told by others we had met along the way – that it was best to avoid the food, just enjoy the show. We had reserved chairs, clustered around small round tables, in the front, right hand half of the auditorium. There was a narrow balcony upstairs. The stage set showed the outside of the theatre, on the corner of a street, and musicians playing accordions (2) and violinist (1) were seated around the walls, with a grand piano to one side. Everyone waited in anticipation as a photographer tried to snap couples in the audience and waiters came round with glasses of champagne.

The show told the story of the Tango in dance, song and music. It had originally started in the late 1880’s as something to pass the time as the men waited in queues to find work. People started to play music on an accordion – which has always been very popular here – or a harmonica – beating out exotic South American rhythms, and the men began to dance together, improvising intricate steps to match the tempo of the music. It became a cult, and accepted by the upper classes as women joined in. The dance became very sultry and erotic, involving dancers’ arms caressing bodies, fast moving feet, kicking legs, and very sexy costumes. For a time in the 1960’s and 1970’s the dance went out of fashion, but was reinvented in the 1980’s to become a real attraction in Buenos Aires – there are Tango Shows on every street in the capital, as well as “busker troupes” on the streets. We all loved the performance – there were humorous parts – particularly one of the accordionists who put on a very dead pan face, and made expression and gestures behind the other performers. At one time something was passed from him to the pianist which had them in fits of silent laughter – we were never sure what was so funny. The show continued for almost two hours, with four dancing couples, three singers – the main maestro wore a wig which he kept twitching between his songs – and a group of four pan pipe/guitar performers. We all clapped and shouted “bravo” at the end – it had been a wonderful way to spend the last evening of the tour. Half the group were returning to England tomorrow, while eight of us were off to Iguazu for a couple of days. John and Barbara were spending more time in Buenos Aires and not returning home till Monday. Once back at the hotel we all hugged and said a long round of goodbye’s in case we didn’t meet up tomorrow, and it was an exhausted but happy group who went to their beds tonight.