From the pictures, we may seem in high spirits walking around one of the most beautiful cities in Latin America. But keep in mind, January in the southern hemisphere feels like mid-July in New York City. Sun burning through the sky and radiating off the pavement, the humidity breathing moisture into every thread of clothing on your body. It's not the most comfortable, or attractive, scene. But between sessions of my father complaining he's too hot, my sister stopping every two seconds to pee (cleverly blaming it on an undoubtedly made-up condition called "bladder spasms") and my mom trying her best to stick to the 15 page agenda she wrote for the trip, I managed to ignore everyone and snap some shots. I hope you enjoy them.
First Day in Buenos Aires...
Arrived at our hotel at 9am, out on the streets at 9:15 to catch the Sunday antique fair on Defensa Street.
Inside El Mercado, the indoor market in San Telmo
My sister Sabine browsing the stands
I liked this hippy man who decided to walk out the door that morning sans shoes. But, he didn't forget his ankle bracelets. Priorities.
I guess this man has never heard of the Swiffer
Merchants sold these colorful, antique bottles everywhere. They're used to make seltzer water but also double as beautiful decorations.
And I thought the guidebook lied to me when I read people randomly dance in the street. I stand corrected, and in awe of this couple dancing their native tango for the crowd.
Our second day in Buenos Aires...
We were lucky enough to have the wonderful Alejandro as our BA tour guide during our trip. We woke up bright and early, Sabine and I undeterred by the mosquito bites speckling our arms, and drove around the city. Alejandro, a passionate historian and orator, engendered in us a true appreciation for the city and its dynamic culture. Like the U.S., Argentina is a country of immigrants. Alejandro told us, similar to the "American mutt," the "true Argentinian" is one of Italian, Spanish, German, Dutch, Czech, Portuguese, Native American and Jewish descent. Buenos Aires became the melting pot of Latin America, fusing so many cultures together that it bore something entirely new and distinct.
Alejandro first introduced us to La Boca, a neighborhood reflective of Argentina's history. With Shakira blasting in the street, we ambled around cobble stone roads lined with Italian pizzerias and cafes. Neon colors blared at us from building walls, which perhaps would not have been so startling if it wasn't for the massive paper mâché dolls hanging out window tops and balconies. Although the plastered faces of Argentina's most famous celebrities, Eva "Evita" Peron and Maradona, smiling down on you may seem normal to La Boca residents, I found it a bit creepy. However, the life of this neighborhood vibrates through the streets, and unlike fancier neighborhoods in Buenos Aires, La Boca truly echoes the sentiments of its people--soccer, politics, music, food--this is what Argentinian people care about, and in La Boca, it is literally written on the walls.
Continuing our tour, Alejandro took us to see the smallest house in Buenos Aires, or La Casa Minima. Nestled between two normal sized buildings, the house looks like something out of Alice in Wonderland. The miniature abode in San Telmo is only 2.5 meters wide and 13 meters deep (for Americans who still don’t know the metric system, like me, that’s around 8 feet wide and 42 feet deep). The story behind this house dates back to the mid-nineteenth century when the government abolished slavery. Alejandro explained that Argentineans are “clever, tricky people,” who in order to get around abolishment laws, would section off a part of their house for the slaves to live in. That way when the government came knocking, they could just say the black people were their friendly neighbors.
Interesting fact about black people in Buenos Aires—there are only seventy of them. Seventy! In the entire city! The lack of the black population in Buenos Aires, and in Argentina in general, is surprising in light of the country's reputation as a melting pot. But in fact, since Buenos Aires never served as a slave port, the city actually never maintained a significant black population. Ironically enough, right after Alejandro presented this bizarre fact, a black Argentinian happened to bike past us. Alejandro excitedly pointed toward him as if this black man was a shooting star, and exclaimed, "Look! You've just seen one of the seventy!"
La Casa Minima
Alejandro models for us...
Our passionate tour guide, Alejandro, and my family.
The spot where all the politics take place...
Yes, it's true, Buenos Aires is very gay-friendly. But that's not why the government house, popularly called La Casa Rosada, sports a pink exterior. Toward the end of the nineteenth century, then-President Domingo Faustino Sarmiento ordered the house be painted pink to relieve some political tension. The idea was to combine the colors of the opposing parties, red for federals and white for unitaries, which created the unified color of pink.
Upon hearing that my mother owned a restaurant named Bistro Chat Noir in New York City, Alejandro insisted that we visit the Buenos Aires chapter of The Black Cat. That’s how we found ourselves at El Gato Negro buying all sorts of memorabilia (as if we don’t have enough knick knacks that say “black cat” on them…), as well as the house specialties, loose tea and dried fruits.
A big attraction for tourists in Buenos Aires is La Recoleta Cemetery. Visiting cemeteries is not my favorite touristic excursion, it’s a bit morbid for my taste, but I followed Alejandro’s lead. We made it a few steps in when my increasingly nervous father mumbled something around the lines of, “I can’t do this,” and turned on his heel toward the exit. My dad, the machismo Frenchman too proud to fear anything, got a serious case of the jeepers-creepers. And over what? A few old bones sealed beneath marble floors? It’s not like there were skulls with slack jaws staring at you in the dark and cavernous labyrinth that is the Catacombs in Paris (check out my blog entry on that one). Even Alejandro laughed at him.
Scenes from the city…
My dad acting silly, as usual.
We decided Ralph Lauren always takes up prime real estate in whatever city he's in. He always has the most beautiful buildings!
Sabine, so natural walking down the street
Bar 6 in Palermo, where we ate lunch
Our big night out on the town consisted of dinner and a tango show at the gorgeous Café de los Angelitos. Of course, the girls exuded the utmost excitement to see some tango whereas Papa Latapie sulked and wished he bore a son to scoff at a dance show with. But in the end, none of us could tear our eyes away from the swift movements of the dancers as they swung their legs and swayed their hips to the music. Café de los Angelitos also provided one of the best meals I ate in Argentina. As usual, I ordered the steak, but what came out on my plate shamed all other steaks. Finally—a juicy, pink, cooked-to-perfection steak that melted in my mouth. This was the kind of meat that made me understand why the 40 million people of Argentina eat 15 million cows per year.
My beautiful mom and sister outside our hotel.
Sabine and I all dressed up for the show.
Me and my gorgeous steak...I didn't leave one morsel behind.
The tango show
Seductive, isn't it?
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