The transition from Brazil to Argentina was gradual. Not only because it took 18 hours on a bus, but also since we so easily hopped across the border before to see the falls. All we had to do was change our reais to pesos and get used to the quirks of Argentinean Spanish.

Buenos Aires is often called the Paris of South America, though dramatically cheaper since the major economic crisis. It has a European look, but an underlying Third World feel. Assuming us gringos don’t get ripped off, a big juicy steak costs around four dollars. A nice painting or photograph – seven. My friend Brandon is living in Palermo, studying Spanish and taking advantage of the wine and food with prices too good to be true. There aren’t many must-see attractions in the city. It’s laidback, centered around a sidewalk, café culture. Brandon has spent the majority of his six weeks here exploring the small “barrios” (neighborhoods) and their different personalities.

Andrew, Danielle, Ricardo and I gave him four good reasons to do the more touristy things. (He told me tonight that he saw more of the city with us than he’s seen in the past six weeks.) None of us were dying to go to the cemetery in Recoleta, though it was without a doubt the most impressive one I’ve ever visited. More like a small city than a cemetery, home to the rich and famous dead. Hundreds of crosses and other religious symbols are perched atop the massive tombs, and small plaques describe who lies beneath. We wandered through the creepy labyrinth, said “hola” to Evita, and then went back to Brandon’s apartment to prep for a night on the town.

Skip to the following morning. We weren’t exactly feeling our best, so we took it easy walking around the Plaza de Mayo and nearby obelisk. As we passed various government buildings, we made continuous vows to never drink Fernet again.

If there’s one thing not to miss, it’s a tango show. The passionate dance is at the heart of Buenos Aires, from informal street sessions to upscale restaurants. Where there’s not actual tango, there are paintings of tango. Danielle bought a photograph of a sensual couple, but it had a secret, according to the vendor. With a very serious expression, he covered the lower bit of the photo and said, “If you couldn’t see the women’s shoe, this wouldn’t be tango they’re doing.”

There weren’t dancers at the show we went to, but the tango-jazz music was still captivating. The musicians were soulful and entertaining, from the accordion player to the singer…whose nostrils flared to four times their normal size during heated lyrics. We all left wanting to take tango lessons.

We were lucky to have our last day together be a Sunday, for the areas around La Boca and San Telmo were at their best today. We strolled around an antique fair and many other colorful stalls, and past crazy characters out to earn a few pesos. While we laughed at the disheveled clown and man on stilts, I was secretly hoping that Danielle and Andrew would miss their flight. Just a few more days.

It’s so cool to have two best friends that can now relate to at least a portion of my long time away from home. They got a taste of Carnaval too. They met Gisella too. They got drenched at Iguazu too. Every experience was better because of them, from Rio to the never-ending bus ride.

This entry was posted on Sunday, March 12th, 2006 at 10:27 pm in XVIII. Argentina. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.