They say that the streets of London are paved with gold and Buenos Aires has wine running through the gutters. Friends in London would certainly argue against the first and we are sad to report that the latter is not true either, despite desperate attempts to substantiate the myth. So Buenos Aires; land of tango, steak and soccer. It's a big cliche but the capital of Latin American always feels alive and vibrant with only a slight hangover from the economic crash in 2000; queues for the cash machines, rarely any money in them, lots of beggars and hoards of people sorting through rubbish bins at night. None of the above spoils Buenos Aires though which is so interesting it deserves at least a week to take in the sights.
On the first day we wondered round, completely in awe of the elegant architecture and stylish Buenos Aireans. We walked to the presidential offices, otherwise known as 'Casa Rosa' (pink house), where Eva & Juan Peron and many presidents before them, had waved down to the Argentine masses.
It is also the area for a lot of protests and as we walked through Plaza de Mayo we stumbled into a big protest about continued British ownership of the Falklands of all topics (or Malvina Isles as they continue to call it). When we were asked by a Falklands war veteran whether we would sign a petition to persuade the Government to get Britain out, we suddenly realised the peril of our situation, promptly put on American accents and ran!
We stayed in the hostel from hell on the first night (LimeHouse for anyone wanting to avoid it); bathroom doors hanging off hinges, toilets leaking, blankets sporting unidentified matter and a kitchen that only has one friend called salmonella. We checked out a day later, on tiptoes for fear of touching the floor, and checked into
Milhouse Hostel (HI). With 300 beds and one night spent in separate shared dorms, it was enough to know that this wasn't the hostel to economise in. Music was played until 4am in the morning, so loudly, it was if there was a DJ in the next room and as we were going to bed (a respectable midnight we felt), people were still getting ready to go out. Worse still, on their return they had too many daiquiris inside them to care about which bed they were getting into! It was, however, hygienic, and so we upgraded to a double room at a whopping 68pesos (12GBP) that almost broke our budget but allowed us to keep our sanity.
On the second day we walked into San Telmo area. A really beautiful area, full of cobbled streets and as we sat in the lovely Plaza Derrago sipping white wine in the sun and watching the world go by, we realised how similar to Europe the architecture and feel of the area was; the typography on the shop fronts, the wrought iron bars and open air cafes, all reminiscent of Parisian style.
Our plans for the next couple of days were scuppered slightly when a spot on Steve's neck grew from aggressive whitehead to golf ball. Anticipating surgery to remove half his neck, the hostel staff directed us to the hospital. After only 5 minutes of waiting (NHS take note), 5 Doctors observed said whitehead-turned-lump fearing tropical disease from Peru. Beth turned white and was banished from the room as Doctors cut into Steve's neck. 68GBP later (NHS do NOT take note) an abscess was diagnosed and poor Steve left the hospital with an inch less skin and sporting the latest in neck-bandage fashion.
Steve stayed at the hostel that afternoon to recuperate, leaving Beth to trek half way across Buenos Aires for the pilgrimage to the Evita museum and muttering to herself the things that Steve does to get out of visiting museums. After she had negotiated the metro which, made of wood in places, has to be the oldest on earth, she paid homage to what must be one of the most amazing and greatest achieving women of all time. Parallels must have been drawn to Princess Diana with regards to charity work, style icon and ambassador role however there the similarities stop.
Eva Peron not only had political influence but political intentions and her husband, the President Juan Peron, was far-sighted enough at the time to recognise the strategic importance of Evita - not only as PR to his election campaign but as an active part of Government. She was the Hilary to Bill and a cross between Princess Diana and Margaret Thatcher. The footage of Evita public speaking is inspiring, passionate and emotive and her CV boosts the passing of the workers right bill, building schools across the provinces and spear-heading the campaign that secured the vote for the women of Argentina. It is such a tragedy that she died at 33 and couldn't go on to achieve even greater degrees of success than she already had.
We headed back to the hospital the following day for Steve's final check-up in Argentina and to have his abscess drained again. Delightful. We then went on to visit the Le Recoleta Cemetery, which sounds particularly ghoulish and not very optimistic in light of Steve's medical trouble, but houses the mausoleums of some of the most prestigious, famous and wealthiest families in all of Argentina - including Eva Peron. It was an amazing place and lives up to it's reputation of being like a miniature city with rows and rows of mausoleums competing to be the most ostentatious. Like all good tourists, we visited the National Art Gallery next and saw some wonderful European and American works. We also saw the Argentinean art section but the majority of the paintings were either black (or very dark anyway), used the word 'death' extensively or depicted scenes of war and violent acts. Not our cup of tea if you'll excuse the British expression.
In the afternoon, we went to 'Teatro' Colon, the famous opera house, and for only 1GBP secured the presidential seats for the matinee performance (well, they call it matinee but that is Argentina time and the concert actually started at 5pm!) It was great to be in the theatre and witness it's grandeur first hand but we really choose the wrong performance. The rather random 'Swiss String Quartet' was the cheapest option for a reason and we sat through an hour of plucking, screeching and bowing. We are not fans of violins at the best of times but by the third piece we were praying they would bring in a piano or something to liven up proceedings. The performance, we are sure, was technically perfect and the Swiss musicians were extremely talented, but the composer should be shot as the whole ensemble sounded like it should accompany the film 'Psycho'. In fact, if the dark Argentinean paintings we had seen earlier at the National Gallery had had sound, this would have been the interpretation! It seemed that we were not well versed in classical concert etiquette either as the ushers became 'shushers' to stop the clapping at the end of each piece. Touchy.
Our last night in South America was spent in Santiago, Chile before flying to New Zealand on Saturday. In contrast to our last visit when the heavens opened, we had lovely blue sky and sun to see us off. A city surrounded by the snowy Andes (ignoring the smog levels creeping up them), was the perfect setting to have one final meal in 'Las Vacas Gordas' (appropriately translated 'fat cow') where we enjoyed a wonderful Parilla of juicy chicken, succulent steak and perfect prawns....with a bottle of Chilean Merlot to wash it down of course! Diets start in New Zealand, ahem.
Very, very sad at leaving South America where we have had a trip of a lifetime. We would still love to come back to see the Pantanel and beaches in the North of Brazil, Bolivia, Galapagos Islands, Chilean Lake District and Chloe Island, Argentine glaciers, Easter Island and lots more. Who knows, with any luck we may be able to come back again one day to South America.
