Buenos Aires – Part 1

I would say I woke up and had brekie, but I was on a 14 hour trans Atlantic flight (my longest ever) on pills;  so I never really slept, nor ever really ate. Actually, I never moved out of my seat for the entire stretch. When the sun finally started filtering through the windows, there were still two hours until landing. To bide my time, I put on They Shall Not Grow Old, a documentary about the British in World War I that Peter Jackson directed. It was very good.

I landed in Buenos Aires. The last time I was here, they decided to spring an entry fee on American nationals in reciprocity for ones the United States placed on them. Since I did not see anything online regarding these fees, I felt there would be no surprises. I noticed in my kit, I had an apple that would no doubt get picked up by their customs. So, as I stood in line, I ate it. I got to the counter, threw away the core and they stamped my passport. I was now in Argentina. 

Again, from my last trip here back in 2009, I got a great piece of intel from a young lady named Rose that was my seatmate on my flight from Miami. She was a local and said that taxis were “dangerous” and that the best way to get to downtown BA was to use a private bus company. So, I went to the kiosk of Manuel Tienda de Leon, and bought a ticket to the city center. I went outside to look for my bus. It was colder than I expected, seeing how I went from Mid-Autumn in less than a day to Mid-Spring. I walked and found my bus, showed them my ticket, then headed towards the city.

BA looked basically the same from when I had been there before to ring in the New Year 2009-2010. There were abandoned overpasses from construction projects that ran out of money long ago. When I took out some cash from the airport ATM, I saw that the exchange rate had risen by 20 pesos to the dollar, pegged at 80 pesos. This would be a topic that would continue to play an important part in my time in South America.

My bus took me to the station in Puerto Madero, a hip and trendy neighborhood close to the coast. I got my things, then walked to my hostel that was close to the Obelisk of Buenos Aires. More on that later. I found my place, went up stairs, and the young lady behind the desk told me my place was not ready yet. They also said I needed to pay in cash, even though when I made my booking online, they said credit cards would be fine. There was even a sign saying that they accepted them. This was a little trick I would soon learn throughout the rest of my travels. At this time, I did not know any better, so I had to drain cash from an ATM nearby to pay for my stay. I hung out in the lounge a little bit but was starving. I went to a nearby restaurant and had an appetizer of prosciutto, cheese, a steak filet, wine, and strawberries with cream for dessert for $13. Something I noticed was that in their menu, all the prices were written under tape. This way, they could change them more easily with the constant price fluctuations.    

I came back to the hostel, got my tour, set up my bed in a six topper, and took a shower and then a nap for two and a half hours. While I wanted to sleep more, I knew I needed to get up. I headed back down to look around Puerto Madero.

Before the financial crisis of 2008, Puerto Madero had a lot of building projects going on. However, this was very interesting because no one lived in them. I remember being down there and seeing one or two lights on in giant condo buildings. This time, it was really built up more and a lot of people were walking around, due to the plethora of bars and restaurants. Towering over all of it was a Bank of China building, and a lot more of it made sense.

I found a bar and sat down to have a beer and think about my travels so far. I had set out to do this trip as a way to broaden my horizons. Which I had been doing so far. I was still a little raw about the whole experience with A and noticed she unfollowed me on Instagram.

I came back to the hostel after buying my dinner of sandwiches and chips (the American kind, not the British kind) and talked with the night manager, Oren. He was an interesting guy. He was Israeli but immigrated to Buenos Aires. I did not know at the time, but apparently, Argentia had an incredibly large Jewish Diaspora. I also talked to Emanuelio (?) who I did not know was sharing my room. The hostel had a bar and Oren asked me what I would like as my free welcome drink. I saw a bottle of Fernet Branca and said I would like a shot of that. Everyone was aghast. “You drink this straight?” Oren asked incredulously. I said of course I do. He said that most people in Argentina used it with a mixer. I shuddered. Then we all laughed. I knew I was going to like it here. After a few rounds, it was time to go to sleep.      

The next day, I had a breakfast bar while I was en route to a bank to get the rest of the money to pay for my stay. Banks only let you withdraw so much in a day, especially in foreign countries. The first bank I had used the day before had its front glass door kicked in, so the police were there. I found my way to another bank, withdrew the remainder of my bill, went back to the hostel, and paid. After, I got a proper breakfast at a local cafe with some avocado toast and a coffee before a walking tour.

Our tour met behind the Opera House. The tour consisted of a lot of things of interest, but there were a few that stuck out to me.

As I mentioned before, Buenos Aires had an incredibly large Jewish diaspora; especially with the horrors of the Holocaust and a continent of bad memories. One of our first stops was the oldest synagogue of Buenos Aires. Our guide made us take note of a plaque of a world-famous hand gesture. She said that Leonard Nemoy, a practicing Jew, asked the writer of Star Trek Gene Roddenberry if when playing the hyper-logical alien character of Spock, he could use ancient Jewish sign language of separating the middle and ring finger in the shape of a V. He loved the idea. And so, that is how the hand signal with the phrase “Live Long and Prosper” joined the cultural zeitgeist.

There was another part of the tour that was a lot less light-hearted. On the 18th of July of 1994, a van parked outside of the AMIA (Asociación Mutual Israelita Argentina) Building. The driver the detonated a bomb, killing 85 people, injuring hundreds and left ruble in its wake. There were not any real solid evidence, but it was surmised that Hezbollah and Iran assisted in the execution of this attack. 

Our tour finished at the base of the statue of the liberator of the Southern Americas, José de San Martín. Hang on for a crash course in South American history. Spain and to a lesser extent Portugal had colonies in the New World. However, given the Spanish defeat of their Armada a little under hundred years after Columbus sailed the ocean blue, their power began to wain on the world stage. They still maintained their colonies for roughly 200 more years by installing military garrisons as well as governors of provinces that were sympathetic to the crown. Enough years passed that while the governors were still doing the will of Spain, the military leaders did not follow in kind. This led to a spirit of Revolution in the Americas. Simon Bolivar, often sighted as the George Washington of Latin America helped liberate the Northern countries of current day Panama, Venezuela, Colombia, Ecuador, Bolivia, and Peru. However, it was San Martín that lead the struggle for independence in the more Southern countries of current day Argentina and Chile as well as parts of Peru. So that is why his statue was featured in the square.

I said goodbye to the group and a friend I made; Sonya from Adelaide but of Croatian extraction. I power walked over to my next tour which was in front of the Congress building. As our guide was getting to know us, he asked where we all were from. I told him New Orleans and his eyes lit up. He said he always wanted to visit and was very impressed that an American city would name its airport after such an amazing artist. It was good the be reminded that New Orleans is a world-famous city.

This tour took us on a straight line from the Congressional building all the way to the Casa Rosada, the residence of their president. There were many important elements that our guide talked about, but there were two that were incredibly important to understanding Buenos Aires.

First, much like the Jews that wished for new lives in the New World, so did a lot of Italians after the War. While it was popular before the War, hundreds of thousands of people immigrated to the country after, with the peak years being 1947-1950. They had an immediate change on the city. Not only did they bring a lot of their skills with them, such as construction and manufacturing, but they even started changing the language. For example, a beer in most of the rest of Latin America is a cerveza. In Buenos Aires, it mimics the Italian birra.

Another important aspect of life in Argentina has to do with money. As I mentioned before, the exchange rate with the dollar continued to fall. The reason for this is that, much like a lot of other developing nations, the Argentine government took out loans for the International Monetary Fund or the IMF during the 90s. The payments became due in early 2001 which lead to the default of $100 Billion. This led to a period of great strife and civil unrest. Because the government had to pay their foreign debts, they did what many other governments had done, print more money. They thought it would help them manage their budget deficiencies, but instead lead to a lot more problems as things would end up costing more. And it has continued ever since. It is so bad, that when people get paid in Argentine pesos, they immediately go to an arbol (literally tree, but the name given to the men that stand outside of exchange houses trying to get clients) and exchange for dollars to be stored at home as banks were not trusted. This was due to the Argentine Government doing a “bail in” as opposed to a “bail out.”

A “bail out” is when a government takes government money (gained through taxes) and gives them to private enterpises. A “bail-in” is when the government assumes the deposits of banks and issues government bonds. This happened in 1989. 

Our tour ended in front of the Casa Rosada in front of the biggest Argentine flag I had ever seen. Our guide told us if we were interested, we should come back to this plaza on Thursday afternoon to see something special. I gave him a big tip and bid him adieu. 

I headed to a nearby parilla (grill) and had dinner. Again, although their sign said they took credit cards, apparently their card reader was “broken” and they wanted cash. Luckily, I had enough. 

I headed back to the hostel and got some more money. I had a drink with Oren and told him about my day. I also met Sofi who was a cute, blond young lady from Denmark that was working in the hostel for board. She was taking pictures of the place, posting them on social media, and was also trying to convince Oren to let her teach Yoga classes. Oren only wanted one-on-one classes with her, if you know what I am saying. I bid them good night, and took a shower. One of the things I would soon learn about Latin America is that unless there is an actual bathtub, the restrooms and showers are all together with a drain in the floor. There was usually no delineation. There was a large squeegee along the wall that should be used to corral the water towards the drain. This would be one of the many culture shocks I would experience in the developing world. After my shower, I got ready for bed. 

The next day, I set up more of my life for a month here in Buenos Aires. I could not go back to sleep after waking up at 6:30am, so I decided to head out and have a coffee and try to find a post office. Unfortunately, no one knew where one was close by. Not even the cops. I walked around getting a feel for my neighborhood then headed out to buy some food from a market. I got a week and a half’s worth of cereal, sandwich supplies, pasta, and meat for about $10. I also was able to have my first drink of maté.

For the uninitiated, maté is a herbal tea made with smoked loose holly leaves. One drinks it from a gourd (or cup-shaped like a gourd) called a calabaza through a type of straw (bombilla) that has filters on it. There is a whole ritual about it. Usually shared, someone packs the maté, making it as dense as possible, then pours hot water onto half of the leaves, kind of making a leaf barrier. The maté is then passed around a group, all drinking from the same straw. When the flavor is too watery on one side, hot water is poured on the other and the process begins anew.

Since it was just me, I drowned all my maté and drank it while I checked the news. The good thing about this hostel is that it is like a large apartment complex that opens into a multistory courtyard. However, one of the things I did not understand was that there was a two-story photo of a soccer player with his hand up, looking like he punched a soccer ball while his face was contorted. Very strange.

I tried to nap a little but ended up listening to a book. I made dinner, talked with Oren for a minute, then did some client work. After, I took a shower and went to bed.  

The next day, I was a bit lazy. I had breakfast but then stayed in bed most of the day. I watched a film that was recommended to me back in Ireland called The Commitments, which I liked. It was about a Dublin soul band. I got up, and went for another walk, only this time around the Obelisk.

The Obelisk at the center of Reublican Plaza (Plaza de la Republica.) It was erected in 1936 to commemorate the 400th year of the founding of the city of Buenos Aires. It serves as a great meeting place. I made sure to take a picture of myself and send it to my Argentine friend in California.

I then walked to my old neighborhood of San Telmo where I stayed before with my best friend when we came to Buenos Aires for New Years. It was just how I remembered it. There were new restaurants and bars, but still seemed very much the center of the Buenos Aires hip universe.

I headed back to the hostel and opened up a dating app and saw that I had many admirers already. I started talking to a few of them and it appeared some were more interested in getting a free dinner than my actual company. I guess that was to be expected. Undeterred, I headed to a restaurant nearby, Don Ernesto, that would become part of my weekly ritual while I was living in Buenos Aires. The reason: very good cuts of steak, very large pours of Malbec wine, and dessert for $8. Fantastic.

However, next to the table I was sitting on the wall was a government placard discussing sexual exploitation and human traficking. It seemed a little out of place for a restuarant, but then again, I was in a tourist area. Thinking about my time back in Cambodia, I realized that given the current upheaval with the country, a lot of destitute people may be looking to make some money with the world’s oldest profession, usually exploiting the ones doing the actual work.  

The next day I got up and made my way back to the San Telmo neighborhood. Every Sunday, all the vendors from around the city line the streets and peddle their wares. This ranges from jewelry to leatherworks, tourist nicknacks to priceless antiques. The ordered chaos of the whole thing was really impressive.

I returned to the hostel to do some work. Like the paranoid person I usually am, I make sure to triple-check my locks before I step away from my lockers. I came back, opened it up and I could not find my computer. Nor my backup computer, nor my phone which I had in a vest pocket up in more newly constructed Fort Awesome. I immediately got back down on the floor and figured out how the thief got into my locker. Since it was located under my bed, the thief simply manhandled the plywood bed frame and was able to get inside. I was beyond distraught. I ran downstairs and told Oren what happened. He went back up to the room while I was at the desk and interrogated the two long-term tenants in the room, checking their things as well. He came back down and said they did not have them. We then checked the security tape. Apparently, there was a new arrival to the shared room, a well-put-together guy in a sports coat that carried a courier bag with him. We watched the video of him being checked in as his passport was scanned. Ahah! We had his name and vital details. He then went up to the room. Since it was in the middle of the day and there was no one there, he had 30 minutes to himself. After that time, he came back out and quickly left the hostel, sportcoat draped over his bag to conceal the bulging contents. Oren then took me to the police. After they talked, I gave a statement, then Oren along with the passport information of the suspect. I asked what the probability of getting my things back would be. The cop let out a rather large laugh. This was basically a circle jerk to get a police report to share with my insurance company to hopefully get some money back. We went back to the hostel and Oren let me use his computer to allow me to turn my computers and phone into little more than paperweights.

I talked to my family as my iPod was still in my possession and told them what happened. The first words from my sister was that it was an inside job. Maybe it was, but I did not feel like Oren or any of the other workers would have done this. I was actually surprised I was not more pissed at the situation. This was my livelihood I was dealing with. Then again, I was relieved that finally, something unfortunate happened on my trip. I had been very, very lucky thus far.

Oren felt incredibly bad about what happened, so he upgraded me to a private room with a bathroom with the caveat that if someone were to rent it, I would need to move back to the other room for the duration of the new guest’s stay. I immediately agreed. 

I had gone into survival mode the day before, so I ended up sleeping a lot after. I woke up the next day still feeling shitty about what happened. I forged my resolve to at least get out of bed. I walked around West of the Obelisk and found a whole bunch of pawnshops. I thought about looking in one for a new computer, but shopped around some more.

In my travels, I stopped at a little hole in the wall stand for something called choripan. A portmanteau of the words chorizo (Spanish sausage) and pan (bread.) It was very good. 

As I was in the middle of the shopping district, I continued walking and found a familiar office supply store. I walked into the Staples and asked for their computer section. The cashiers looked at each other and said they did not sell computers. I thanked them and headed back to the hostel. Oren suggested I look online at a site called Mercado Libre, basically a multi-country South American eBay. I found a computer I needed with the specs I required for about $26,240 Argentine Pesos ($328.) It was only slightly more than I paid for my last PC as Macs were completely out of the question. As it was already late, I decided I would get it later in the week. 

I came back and chatted with Oren, Brenda (a Brazilian young lady that manned the counter and cleaned the hostel that was in Argentina to work to afford tickets to Argentina’s Lollapalooza music concert,) and Sofi for a bit. Apparently, Brenda did not like Sofi, Sofi did not like Oren, and I was just there as usual. Oren had some friends in town and invited me to have a drink with them. I did then went upstairs. I talked to my friend who was interested in coming down south to visit me when I was on my journey then decided to call it a night.  

I woke up late today, got up and had breakfast. I then headed out to the Ateneo, one of the most beautiful bookstores in the world. The Ateneo was originally opened as a theatre, and the architecture is reminiscent of it. 

I then headed back to the hostel as the early Spring mid-day heat was getting to me. I took a nap, woke up, made myself a pasta dinner, then headed down to Puerto Madero. I crossed the canal and took a seat at the bar of the beautiful Hilton Hotel. I ordered a Malbec and toasted my first week in South America.