Since it was my last full week in Buenos AIres, I was prepared to go full tourist mode, doing all of the touristy things that I put to the side as I was trying to get to know the community. I wanted to see as much as I could and more importantly, spend as much time with friends as possible, so I made lots of lists and schedules and started Sunday with the Recoleta Cemetery, the MALBA (Museo de Arte Latinoamericano de Buenos Aires), and some delicious food at a restaurant called Cumana, which serves Argentine cuisine and specializes in dishes from the Northwest.
Recoleta Cemetery is huge and home to many of the graves of the city's elite. It's something like a New Orleans cemetery, full of mausoleums, but everything is bigger and more elaborate. I wandered around for quite a long time looking at the various types of graves and wandering over to see Evita Peron's place. I recognized a number of important names that could also be found on metro stops or streets around the city. It was a beautiful day, despite a prediction for rain, and I enjoyed the walk as music drifted over from the fair outside the gates.
Outside Recoleta Cemetery
The view from outside the main entrance
The view from inside the main entrance
Inside there are a variety of different things, from full-on mini churches to fairly plan shelves for coffins. The structures go down under the ground so generations can be buried. Once a family buys a spot, it's theirs forever but they have to pay for upkeep or things start looking really shabby.
Afterward I picked up an alfajor from Havanna and walked to Cumana for a late lunch/early dinner. I ordered locro, a hearty dish made of white beans, meat, and corn and popular closer to the Andes. It was delicious.
I had been told that the collection at the MALBA was impressive and I really enjoyed exploring through the early evening. There's a large collection of modern art and of course, works from Latin American artists like Berni.
Inside the restuarant
Locro
MALBA
Berni,
Manifestacion
Kahlo, Autorretrato con chango y loro
On Monday I headed to the Japanese Gardens, which were a gift from Japan to Argentina and which had been recommended to me by several people. They're in Palermo and a manageable walk or short bus ride from my apartment. It was another perfect day, lucky for me, so I spent quite a while wandering around the gardens, which while they are full of tourists are also definitely worth a visit.
That night I headed to Don Julio, a really nice steak restaurant in Palermo. There was a wait, not shockingly, as I arrived around 9:30/10, but the hostesses bring champagne and I passed the time speaking to a very nice couple from the Netherlands.
Although I tend to eat vegetarian when I cook in my own place (habit, cheaper, healthier, etc.), I have learned that I really do love meat and will probably miss it when I give it up again upon return to the US. Maybe I'll cheat every now and then. Anyway, all that is to say, I ordered a steak and vegetables and a good Malbec and was very excited for some Argentine beef. It did not disappoint. It was a delicious meal, even if it's not one that I'll ever cook for myself.
Waiting outside
Dinner
Leaving, still hopping
I woke up Tuesday and headed to a walking tour that got excellent reviews and started at Plaza Italia, really close to my apartment. I had been in the city long enough to feel like I could get around and had seen many things, but the history and touristy facts that come with a walking tour always add something.
Jonathan was our guide, and he started the tour with an explanation of the public transport system and an outline of what we would see. I was really sad that I didn't do this tour at the beginning of my time in the city, because he provided extremely helpful information and took us on the bus and metro, things that are absolutely possible to figure out solo but are much easier to understand with a guide.
I had a particularly bad dysautonomia moment on our first bus and almost hit the floor mid-conversation with a very nice Stephen, who shared a name and a profession in air traffic control with my fabulous stepdad. Luckily there were seats available on the bus but I was really afraid that I would be that girl on the tour who passed out on the bus. Embarrassing.
After a few minutes of tightening my muscles and sitting near an open window, my ears stopped ringing and I could see again. Thankfully it was a longer bus ride so by the time we got off in Abasto, a new neighborhood for me, I was feeling okay. For the rest of the day I drank water bottle after water bottle and was mostly fine. I didn't want to leave the tour because Jonathan was showing us interesting places, there were great people along, including a lovely couple living in Knoxville, and I was enjoying a beautiful day.
Two of the guys on the tour were friends of Jonathan, so after the official tour he took us around Recoleta, and I had a chance to see both El Ateneo and the Recoleta Cemetery again. I learned lots about the symbolism in the cemetery and after walking around for a while, we all grabbed a beer and talked for a while. I left feeling happy about lots of good conversation and meeting new people.
Carlos Gardel's house in Abasto. He was a hugely famous and popular tango performer who died in a plane crash.
Fileteado, this style of decoration, is historically associated with Buenos Aires and includes the Argentine flag in some form (the ribbon in the middle). In Abasto there are several houses covered in the style.
Gardel art is everywhere
Gauchito Gil. There are shrines to him in various places, usually where someone has died. The legend goes that Gauchito Gil was exiled from his home after he had an affair with a wealthy woman. The chief of police was in love with her and her brothers did not approve, so Gauchito Gil wandered for a long time helping the poor. When he finally decided to return, he was killed by the police chief, but not before he told the chief that his son was very ill and Gil could help. The chief failed to listen and buried Gil's head and body separately, disgracing him. When he returned home to find his son was indeed dying, he prayed to Gil and after his son was healed, buried Gil's body together.
Music on the walls in Abasto
The only Kosher McDonald's outside of Israel, in the Abasto mall in Buenos Aires
Inside the mall where we stopped for lunch
Plaza del Congreso
Km Zero in Argentina
With one of the casts of Rodin's Thinker. Should've put my thinker face on. Next time.
View at the end of Plaza del Congreso
Flower of Argentina
Down Avenida de Mayo toward Plaza de Mayo. Pride route in the daytime.
The outside of the Palacio Barolo, the building based on the Divine Comedies
In front of Casa Rosada
El Ateneo, the beautiful bookstore one more time
Reminders of Rhodes everywhere.
Evita
There were cats everywhere. This one really liked to hang near Evita.
Space next to Evita available for purchase.
That night, I met German and his boyfriend, Juan, for dinner at a place called California Burrito Company in Palermo. German and Juan are wonderful, and we spent quite a while eating and chatting about various things before calling it a night.
On Wednesday, I started prepping to leave in a real way, making lists and doing the preliminary packing and cleaning things that tend to build up. I was really excited for that night; I had tickets to see a show at Casa Brandon, a gay cultural center. I headed by bus to a new part of town for a show called Ruleta Rosa.
Here's the thing. Even after months in Argentina, I take starting times seriously in certain cases. The email and information asked us to arrive by 8:30 so that the show could begin at 9.
Feeling nervous at 8:34, I walked into a totally empty center. It was the staff and me. I should have known. The will call wasn't even open. So Argentina.
Anyway everyone there was nice and I had a beer and waited as people started to trickle in. Casa Brandon is a really cool place, and as more and more people entered, I started chatting with Hans at the bar about gay life in Argentina and about learning Spanish in Argentina. He had come to see a friend and we walked to the stage area together.
At around 9:45, the show began.
It's a bit of a gamble to buy tickets to a show about which you know nothing, but lucky for me, things worked out. That being said, there was a lot of sex in this show from the very beginning, and no matter how many times I participate in The Vagina Monologues, some of the Southerner in me will make me slink a little lower in my chair, even as I really enjoy the dialogue and find the show itself to be interesting for a number of reasons.
The story follows several gay men, all of whom are intertwined emotionally, sexually, and socially, whether or not they are aware of these connections at the start. The story looks at self-destructive behavior, sexual identity, and emotional attachment in ways that are in some ways familiar, especially in relation to the gay community, but it didn't feel stale or trite. The sexual scenes bordered on gratuitous, but I think within the context, which was meant to shock, they made sense. All of this, of course, was in Spanish so my interpretation is based on what I could understand (if I had seen this three months ago, it would have been roooough) and what I picked up from the interactions and work of the actors.
Anyway, I enjoyed the night and it was a good experience in a unique place.
Lobby
Basically: More fags, more dykes, more trans, less Putin
It's hard because the words used don't carry the same meaning but they aren't the more formal version (gay, lesbian) either
On Thursday, I went to my favorite coffee shop one last time to have lunch before heading down to the Plaza de Mayo to see the Mothers of the Plaza, who still march every Thursday at 3:30pm.
Mothers at the tent
Dolls, books, magnets to support the cause
Marielle and I had reservations to see a tango that night, so I stayed in the area and walked
to Puerto Madero, which I had not visited yet. It's a short trek across the water and the weather was perfect for a walk, so I meandered and explored before heading back to the Plaza to visit Cafe Tortoni.
Walking outside Casa Rosada on the way to Puerto Madero
Crossing over
For Meems! It's a Galileo boat! (My roommate and I had a fish named Galileo)
Cafe Tortoni is one of those places you have to visit in the city. It's on Avenida de Mayo and there is often a wait, especially on days with tango shows, but because I was there between meal times, I was seated fairly quickly.
I ordered a strawberry shake and read for a while before heading to meet Marielle.
I had made reservations at Los 36 Billares, the same place that we intended to go the previous week, but when we arrived we found out it was only music and not dance. This is a more authentic tango situation, but because Marielle and I are both tourists and wanted to do the whole tourist thing, we walked to La Ideal, which had a dance show as well.
It was cheesy, fun, and impressive and it was definitely worth finding a place with dancers.
Inside the cafe
Reading with a milkshake
Seal on the door
Casa Rosada at night, walking to tango
9 de Julio at night, walking to tango
La Ideal
Marielle!
With Marielle after the show
On Friday, I spent most of the day either in transit to or walking around El Caminito in La Boca.
I had been to La Boca before, on accident, when I took the wrong bus, but I had never been to El Caminito, which is tourist central. It's full of souvenir shops and tango dancers. It's also full of police officers, more than I had seen anywhere else in the city.
Interestingly, La Boca as a whole has a reputation as a neighborhood that tourists should avoid. Aside from El Caminito and the Boca Soccer Stadium, the tour books advise against spending much time there. This was the neighborhood where, when I took the wrong bus, the locals told me that I didn't want to see this part of the city and I ought to turn around asap.
I always feel strange wandering in a place with that kind of contradiction. It seems weird to me to visit a place and be surrounded by police officers, which means that resources that could be devoted to the people who actually live in the neighborhood are being diverted for my "protection." This isn't to say that I don't trust locals and to some extent, guide books when they give me advice about where to whip out my camera, but I also understand that I wasn't really in La Boca when I was walking El Caminito. I was in a space created and maintained for me as a visitor. As I travel and try to get to know cities as a person who lives there and not as a tourist, I try to pay attention to these spaces, if only to remind myself of my status as an outsider and my privilege, which expresses itself in a number of ways. I will not get a funny eye walking El Caminito the way that I did on the wrong bus in La Boca; I'm sheltered from that and pitched tango pictures and leather goods and mate while actual residents of the neighborhood walk outside the police lines.
Anyway, all that is to say that El Caminito felt strange to me after spending time in the rest of Buenos Aires and in other parts of Argentina, and I was a little overwhelmed by it.
Still, it was a beautiful area and I am glad that I went and walked the block or so within the approved area.
El Caminito, the little path, is really earns its name. It's a tiny road.
Walking through the shops
There was cool art on all of the walls
I took the bus home and got ready for my last meeting with La Fulana, but I'll write about that in the next post, along with my last few days in Argentina.
This week I'm thankful for:
1. A chance to continue to see new things in the city
2. German, Juan, Marielle, and good company
3. Good food, good wine, and alfajors
