I had a pretty late night, so I woke up the next day around noon. I decided to see more of the city. I hopped on the subway and headed towards the MALBA or the Museo de Arte Latina America de Buenos Aires, a modern art museum. But first I needed to eat. I went into my first Mcdonald’s on my trip and ordered myself a medium McCombo of a McPollo. It was pretty good. After brunch, I went to the museum.
It was a great museum. There were a lot of interesting pieces. The highlights included a sculpture that looked like a Demogorgon, one that was mechanized, one that played on reflections, and even a Frida Kahlo. The most interesting one was a swimming pool with Plexiglas where one could look down from the top and see people walking around underneath looking back up. Then there was a passageway for one to go under the pool and look back up.
I left the museum and headed back to the hostel. I was tired so I took a nap after a shower and prepped for a call with a prospective new client, a doctor in Pennsylvania. After the very positive call, I went to San Telmo again to search for my elusive hoodie. I then walked back to Don Ernesto for a large dinner as I was hungry.
The next day, I decided to go see the film Guasón (Joker) which was playing in a small theatre next to the hostel. I really love these mundane experiences of going to the movies in foreign countries as the experiences are so varied. I got to the multiplex and took my seat after buying a ticket. The film started at 12:20 PM, but when I took my seat at 12:05 PM, it had already started. When they realized their error, they stopped it, apologized, then restarted from the beginning. The film was disturbing but poignant and heartfelt. It really rang true to a lot of the points that were raised in another book I was reading, The Gift of Fear.
After the movie, I headed to the San Telmo market to find that fucking hoodie! The San Telmo market was an indoor space that had a lot of goods as it was kind of like a flea market. Unfortunately, there were no hoodies! I consoled myself with some gourmet choripan: lamb sausage, caramelized pears, blue cheese, and spinach. It was amazing. I went back to Berlina Bunker for a cider and then went to the Paseo de la Gloria.
Quite literally the Walk of Fame, the Paseo de la Gloria is a long strand of bronzed statues of the important sports stars that called Buenos Aires and Argentina their home. However, probably the most important statue was one that wasn’t there. The rebar that once held the statue in place was exposed. Epithets were spraypainted around the name of this notable sports star. Sadly, his leaving Argentina to play in Europe struck a minor chord with the locals. The name etched with curses and epithets was Lionel Messi.
I headed back to the Temple Bar for a beer and a mountain of cheese fries, which were excellent. As I was walking back from Puerto Madero, I passed a different Luna Park and saw the Seal was coming to perform. When I returned to the hostel, for shits and giggles, I looked up what tickets would cost. Apparently, the super backstage passes where you could get Seal to donate you his kidney was only $145. While I was a fan, I was not enough to part with that as I still had many more adventures before me. I had a drink with Oren and Brenda where I was invited to come out and eat with them after their shift the next day. I was looking forward to it. Then it was time for bed.
The next day was another lazy one. After breakfast, I had more work to do for clients which took up most of the day. In the afternoon, I watched Dark Phoenix then took a little nap to get ready for Oren’s dinner. I woke up, got dressed, came down and found out that he forgot. But, he cooked dinner and invited me to join. I asked what he needed and I went out and bought some bread and dessert. He, Brenda, the new worker Facundo, and I all had dinner at the bar. He cooked a roast in a little toaster oven, but it was delicious. We stayed and chatted at the bar until about midnight.
The next day was slow, but I got up and headed over to the train station to find a schedule for a place I wanted to visit. Unfortunately, there was none. I walked back to the hostel, did a little work, then got up to check in with Oren about dinner and drinks. I then went out to have a few beers. I decided to try a new place Keller Bier Sotano Cerveccero. It was a bar on the Avenida de Independencia not that far away from the hostel. It was downstairs in the basement of the building, but it was very homey. I sat at the bar and was surprised to hear Italian pop songs over the loudspeakers. I then walked to the Temple Bar where I did the language night. Unfortunately, there was a private event and closed to the public, so I went to the bar across the street. They hosed me on the price, as it was double for what I would have usually paid.
I walked back to the hostel. I saw Oren and his shared some food with me he bought and then took me to dinner at a very nice local restaurant after Brenda bailed on us. It was a chop house with all different types of meat and wine. I got some ribs and Oren got a steak. It was very civilized. I tried to pay for my share, but Oren was not having any of that. We had a drink at the bar back at the hostel, then I went up to bed.
I got up late the headed to the San Telmo street market to look for gifts for everyone as Christmas was just around the corner. I really took my time. I cooked myself some dinner, then just chilled the rest of the day.
The next day, I headed to the town of Tigre. I got to the train station but took some time to go see the memorial to the victims of the Guerra de la Islas Malvinas by the station. I bought my ticket, then headed to the platform. It was depressing as there were a lot of beggars. It was also on this train to Tigre back in 2009, I first saw an actual shantytown. One of the more interesting things about it was that these houses of little more than bricks and a tarp, most had a satellite dish.
I got to Tigre about 45 minutes later. I walked down one of the site streets until I found a restaurant with WiFi and had lunch. Upon some research, while I waited for food, it turned out that everything I wanted to see in the city was closed on Mondays. No art museum, no maté museum, no nada. I still walked around, looking at the old row houses. Tigre was influenced a lot by the English. Since the city was located on the Tigre River Delta, the relatively calm waters lead to the sport of rowing being taken up. So, all the houses along the rivers were owned by different crew teams. It reminded me a lot of Philadelphia where rowing is a very popular sport.
I hopped back on the train and headed back home. After, I went to the hostel and did some work. Later, I decided to head out to the language exchange. When I got to the bar, nothing was going on. It turned out, the event was the next night. I realized right then and there, that I couldn’t Monday.
I headed back to the hostel and saw that an older woman was leaving the hostel and having trouble with her bags. Oren told me that this happened a lot in that older people were getting evicted from their apartments and needed short term places to stay while they arranged new housing. I helped this woman carry her bags. I stayed with her while she called a cab as she proceeded to talk my ear off for a good 10 minutes. When the cab arrived, I helped her load her bags. She told me in heavily accented English, “Thank you,” hugged me and kissed my cheek.
I went upstairs and was invited to join Brenda, Oren, and Facundo to eat. I said sure. We hopped in a cab and headed over to a very posh restaurant called Kansas that was right next to the racetrack in the Palermo neighborhood. Apparently, since it was towards the end of the night, they ran out of food. Everyone got steaks except for me as I wasn’t very hungry. We all just sat and talked. Even though three of the four people sitting at the table spoke English, Facundo did not, so to be courteous, we all spoke Spanish. It was great and really something an American, an Israeli, a Brazilian, and an Argentinian could come together like this. It was a nice night. Personality, not nationality.
I woke up late and had breakfast. I got up to date on my shows, then headed out to grab some lunch. Afterward, I chitchatted with Oren for a bit, thanking him for including me the night before. I then finished reading The Gift of Fear and started Edward Snowden’s book, Pemnanent Record. I took a nap and then came down to chit-chat with Brenda before I headed out for dinner. I could not find anything I wanted to eat, so I tried an interesting-looking restaurant by the hostel. It was filled with olde tyme accouterment, like an Argentine Cracker Barrel. Only the quality of the food was a lot better.
I went to the language exchange, but it was not as fun as the first time. I talked with an American that had lived in Ushuaia, the southernmost city in Argentina (and the world) for 20 years, on an American passport. Which I found very interesting. I met a Venezuelan that really appreciated the picture I showed him of flipping off Marx in London. Finally, I chatted with a very cute Argentinian young lady with a bit of a male entourage. After I had my fill, I went back to the hostel and went to bed.
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