One of the few times I left the house.
After being on the road for five months and staying with couchsurfers, camping camping and in random cheap hostels, arriving in Buenos Aires was a luxury almost beyond comparison. After our redeye from Auckland on Aerolineas Argentinas (don't ever fly with them unless you're desperate and it is absolutely your last option), I was more tired than I can remember being in a long time. I had gotten maybe two hours sleep on the 12-hour flight, was still painfully sore from the horseback ride, and desperately needed a shower. All of these put together made it nearly impossible to concentrate as I fumbled my way through the passport control ($140 reciprocity fee. bummer), bag pick-up, customs and finally the exit. Emerging into the sea of waiting people at the arrivals gate, I felt a bit drunk as I greeted Steph's mom for the first time.
So where is all of this 'luxury beyond compare' that I was referring to earlier? Well let me tell you. First, as is the case when you're with your parents (no matter how old you are) you get to turn your brain off. As soon as we were under Ms. Bruce's wings, I was able to look around and enjoy the scenery. No worries about where we were, how we were going to get anywhere, how much it would cost, doing cost/benefit analysis of different options - all while trying to stay upright. No, none of that for me. Just relaxing in the comfort of knowing that I was with someone who knew where we were going, knew how to get there, and knew what to do if we needed to change plans at the last minute. Luxurious. Second, when we arrived at her apartment in Buenos Aires, we found that we had our own room, complete with comfortable bed, balcony, closets and private bathroom. You would be amazed at how something as small as a private bathroom can make a difference after so much time without. Third, she had already picked up some empanadas for us for dinner. Again, I didn't have to worry about where we are going to eat, whether or not the restaurant we have chosen is a good one, if there is something better around the corner. Just delicious empanadas already on my plate waiting to be eaten. And finally, she had scheduled massages for us for the next morning. Lux. ur. i. ous.
So where is all of this 'luxury beyond compare' that I was referring to earlier? Well let me tell you. First, as is the case when you're with your parents (no matter how old you are) you get to turn your brain off. As soon as we were under Ms. Bruce's wings, I was able to look around and enjoy the scenery. No worries about where we were, how we were going to get anywhere, how much it would cost, doing cost/benefit analysis of different options - all while trying to stay upright. No, none of that for me. Just relaxing in the comfort of knowing that I was with someone who knew where we were going, knew how to get there, and knew what to do if we needed to change plans at the last minute. Luxurious. Second, when we arrived at her apartment in Buenos Aires, we found that we had our own room, complete with comfortable bed, balcony, closets and private bathroom. You would be amazed at how something as small as a private bathroom can make a difference after so much time without. Third, she had already picked up some empanadas for us for dinner. Again, I didn't have to worry about where we are going to eat, whether or not the restaurant we have chosen is a good one, if there is something better around the corner. Just delicious empanadas already on my plate waiting to be eaten. And finally, she had scheduled massages for us for the next morning. Lux. ur. i. ous.
The colorful Boca
Our first two days in Buenos Aires I basically refused to leave the house. We took a couple of trips out to pick up groceries (I got to make Christmas dinner), see a few things close by, and get some ice cream, but really, with how comfortable the apartment was, it was hard to find the motivation to leave. Luckily, my lack of motivation was reinforced by the fact that it was Christmas and nothing was open anyway.
After spending a glorious three days inside, lazing around, catching up on emailing and showering, the day after Christmas we finally emerged into the sun ready to explore. Over the next five days or so we spent time navigating the many different areas in Buenos Aires. I never knew it was such a big city. We visited the Boca, a colorful old (now touristy) neighborhood with constant tango shows on the streets. We visited downtown with its huge buildings and monuments, and the ritzier neighborhoods of Recoleta and Palermo. We lounged in parks and rose gardens, and took long strolls down tree-lined streets. We even paid our respects at the city cemetery where all the prominent Buenos Aires families are buried (we skipped Evita's grave due to the incredibly long line to take a picture with her tomb. weird).
Buenos Aires was also an excellent place for us to get caught up on our culture. At times during this trip we have blown through cities (and countries) so quickly, we don't have time to take in any of the local theater or music. In fact, the most we can often hope for is for time to watch a movie on the computer before we fall asleep - and I don't think that counts as culture. I mean, it's not like seeing the ballet. Which, by the way, we did in Buenos Aires. As a Christmas present to us, Steph's mom got us tickets to the Buenos Aires ballet. The first thing I thought when I opened the envelope containing my ticket?
'What am I going to wear?'
After spending a glorious three days inside, lazing around, catching up on emailing and showering, the day after Christmas we finally emerged into the sun ready to explore. Over the next five days or so we spent time navigating the many different areas in Buenos Aires. I never knew it was such a big city. We visited the Boca, a colorful old (now touristy) neighborhood with constant tango shows on the streets. We visited downtown with its huge buildings and monuments, and the ritzier neighborhoods of Recoleta and Palermo. We lounged in parks and rose gardens, and took long strolls down tree-lined streets. We even paid our respects at the city cemetery where all the prominent Buenos Aires families are buried (we skipped Evita's grave due to the incredibly long line to take a picture with her tomb. weird).
Buenos Aires was also an excellent place for us to get caught up on our culture. At times during this trip we have blown through cities (and countries) so quickly, we don't have time to take in any of the local theater or music. In fact, the most we can often hope for is for time to watch a movie on the computer before we fall asleep - and I don't think that counts as culture. I mean, it's not like seeing the ballet. Which, by the way, we did in Buenos Aires. As a Christmas present to us, Steph's mom got us tickets to the Buenos Aires ballet. The first thing I thought when I opened the envelope containing my ticket?
'What am I going to wear?'
All dressed up.
By now, after wearing the same six t-shirts, two pairs of pants and ratty hiking boots - everything that I have is looking a bit rough around the edges. Should I wear my jeans (with a small hole in them from climbing a fence) with my "best" t-shirt? I imagined the cultured citizens of Buenos Aires all dressed up walking into the theater with me sneaking in behind them looking like I just rolled off a bus. After a little discussion of my worries with Steph and Ms. Bruce, Steph and I did what you might expect. We raided the available wardrobe. Luckily, we're all the same size, and I found a delightful skirt suit with matching heels, and Steph found a green dress. Now problem solved, we headed out for a lovely evening of music, dancing, fantastic set-design and good company. I made it home that night feeling tired, but satisfied in knowing that I had seen something that I don't normally see while traveling.
Aside from the ballet, we also caught a tango show - complete with the dancers playing the part of mafiosos, going through about ten wardrobe changes over the course of an hour. They wore more different outfits in that hour than I have worn in six months. And the dancing. The dancing was pretty incredible. Having spent a tiny bit of time trying to learn how to ballroom dance many years ago, I have some idea about how hard it is to make your body do all of those things - and let me tell you, these guys made it look like a walk in the park. The men would pick up the women and throw them in every direction, and the women would land as gracefully as someone had just set them down in a cushioned chair. It was pretty incredible.
Aside from the ballet, we also caught a tango show - complete with the dancers playing the part of mafiosos, going through about ten wardrobe changes over the course of an hour. They wore more different outfits in that hour than I have worn in six months. And the dancing. The dancing was pretty incredible. Having spent a tiny bit of time trying to learn how to ballroom dance many years ago, I have some idea about how hard it is to make your body do all of those things - and let me tell you, these guys made it look like a walk in the park. The men would pick up the women and throw them in every direction, and the women would land as gracefully as someone had just set them down in a cushioned chair. It was pretty incredible.
They were so close.
Spending the holidays away from home was one of the harder things about this trip. It's one of my favorite times of year, going home to my mom's house and eating her special peanut clusters until I'm sick to the stomach, and then heading to my grandma's house for some of her famous coconut cream pie. I don't think anything can replace the wonderful feeling I get when surrounded by the aunts, uncles and cousins that I have spent every Christmas with for the past 31 years. That said, it was a pretty new experience to spend my first hot Christmas in the Southern hemisphere away from my family. Though it seems that Christmas traditions aren't all that different whether you're in Buenos Aires or St. Louis. I got to cook a nice Christmas dinner of braised beef and roasted vegetables. We had a delicious bottle of Malbec. We opened Christmas presents around the tree, and just generally enjoyed each other's company. The biggest difference was the fireworks. You heard me, in Buenos Aires at midnight on Christmas eve, everyone in the city sets off fireworks. So the end of our evening was spent on the balcony, drinking a very good Malbec, watching various fireworks displays go off around the city. Later that night, as I was drifting off to sleep, I could still hear the distant cracks from all around the city.
So what do the people of Buenos Aires do on New Year's eve if they've already set off all of their fireworks on Christmas? I was told not very much. Apparently the first New Year's eve that Steph and her mom spent in Buenos Aires they had sat expectantly on the balcony awaiting a grand show (after witnessing such a fuss over Chrismas eve, surely New Year's would be ten times better), and nothing happened. A few cracks of stray firecrackers and not much more. So as we sat around that night, drinking champagne and eating Ms. Bruce's delicous shrimp pie (Steph's favorite), we didn't expect much. Boy were we wrong. After a few modest displays across the city, a large group of people emerged on the street directly below our building, carrying more fireworks than I have ever seen. As they set off their first few rockets, I was pretty nervous that one might veer off course, and wind up on our balcony. Then pushing that fear aside, as they set off round after round of increasingly larger fireworks displays fifty yards from the balcony, we settled in for a good show. Sitting there on the balcony with fireworks exploding dangerously close to us, I felt like I was back in at my Grandma's farm on the Fourth of July, setting off fireworks in the front yard with my Dad. It was maybe one of the coolest New Year's eves I've ever had.
So what do the people of Buenos Aires do on New Year's eve if they've already set off all of their fireworks on Christmas? I was told not very much. Apparently the first New Year's eve that Steph and her mom spent in Buenos Aires they had sat expectantly on the balcony awaiting a grand show (after witnessing such a fuss over Chrismas eve, surely New Year's would be ten times better), and nothing happened. A few cracks of stray firecrackers and not much more. So as we sat around that night, drinking champagne and eating Ms. Bruce's delicous shrimp pie (Steph's favorite), we didn't expect much. Boy were we wrong. After a few modest displays across the city, a large group of people emerged on the street directly below our building, carrying more fireworks than I have ever seen. As they set off their first few rockets, I was pretty nervous that one might veer off course, and wind up on our balcony. Then pushing that fear aside, as they set off round after round of increasingly larger fireworks displays fifty yards from the balcony, we settled in for a good show. Sitting there on the balcony with fireworks exploding dangerously close to us, I felt like I was back in at my Grandma's farm on the Fourth of July, setting off fireworks in the front yard with my Dad. It was maybe one of the coolest New Year's eves I've ever had.
Iguazu. Incredible.
After only a couple hours of sleep, we woke at 4:30 the next morning to head to the airport, bound for Iguazu Falls. We had originally planned on flying to Patagonia that morning, and had set aside eleven precious days to hike the famous Torres Del Paine National Park in Chile. Fate, however, had a different idea, when a wildfire broke out three days before we were supposed to leave. So far, the fire has burned about 8% of the park and killed seven firefighters. 400 hikers had to be evacuated. We (somewhat grudgingly) changed our plans, decided that someday we would come back to Patagonia, and headed to Iguazu Falls. And Iguazu is where I'll pick up the next post. But I'll leave you with a picture just to whet your appetite. It was amazing.
-EC
-EC
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