Emily, Camille and I got a little taste of what the month of December will be like with a wonderful week-long stay in Buenos Aires, the capital of Argentina.
We were unable to all get a spot on the same flight, so I ended up making the trip alone and finding my way to Ostinatto hostel in San Telmo, which ended up being the perfect fit for us. It was gratifying to be able to ask for directions without a second thought and to be able to converse with my fellow travelers- my spanish has really begun to solidify in the past month! While waiting for my friends to bring back dinner (freshly made pasta and a deliciously acidic tomato sauce) I sat on the balcony and took in the view. The cobblestone streets were narrow, the buildings tall and elegant, white stone with metal accents and balconies overflowing with plants. I sat with a man from the north of Argentina and shared mate while he gave me a list of places to see in the city.
Wednesday:
Started the day with breakfast at the hostel before procuring a bus/subway card and heading to the MALBA, an art museum in the beautifully green and tranquil Polermo neighborhood. They were exhibiting contemporary artists from all over Latin America and it was definitely one of the highlights of our trip. Afterwords we walked to the famous "Freddos" for our first gelato of the week. My favorite flavor was coco con dulce de leche (coconut with caramel).
We ended our day at the botanical gardens, walking the paths, soaking up the sun, and chatting on the benches before heading back the hostel to make dinner. We decided to save money by eating out one night, doing a snack instead of lunch (Usually ice cream!), and filling up on the free breakfast int the mornings. This turned out to be perfect because we had all missed cooking for ourselves and the fruits and vegetables here are much less expensive than in the US. Also, who doesn't love to eat ice cream or alfahores (chocolate-covered cookies) for lunch?
Thursday:
Halloween. True to our gringo roots, we felt we had to celebrate Halloween, even if no one else was. The day was gray and drizzly...perfect for a stroll through the infamous Cemetario de Recoleta, the resting place of Argentina's most rich and famous.
We left just as the rain started to pick up and made our way to another highlight of the Recoleta neighborhood: El Ateno. It is an old theater that over 100 years ago was transformed into the most extravagent bookstore I have ever seen. People were nestled into the box seats skimming backs of books and, on the stage below, couples chatted over expresso and lemon pie. The fresco on the ceiling, the red carpets, the marble columns, it was all breathtaking; the sheer number of books overwhelming. The rain pounded on the roof, the light was dim, and we spent over an hour walking the rows, taking it all in.
When the sky began to clear, we walked to a café to eat the customary medialuna (a croissant covered in a honey-like glaze) and then made the trek back to La Plaza de Mayo to see La Casa Rosada (president's house) and the subterranean history museum behind it.
Friday:
We decided after a lazy morning that it was about time we got to know the neighborhood we were staying in and spent the day wandering through the San Telmo antique market. With its high vault ceilings, glass dome, and emerald green accents, the building itself was worth the visit. Inside, we found millions of treasures that could only be encountered in a culturally rich city like BA. There were rows of leather purses, haunting porcelain dolls, old postcards written to loved ones, tins for yerba mate and chocolates, white gloves and glistening broaches from a more extravagant time, and piles of fresh produce.
The building seemed to emanate a retrospective energy, almost as if it was haunted by the rich that fled the neighborhood centuries ago in the face of the yellow fever epidemic, leaving their extravagant appartments and the material excesses of their wealth to the impoverished that flooded into the neighborhood in their place. I couldn't help but wonder about the stories of the lace dresses and crystal glasses that sat collecting dust in the middle of a city that has seen so much change. In the center, a cafe served up the closest thing to a US breakfast I have yet to see here: Eggs, potatoes, and a hearty serving of meat. The air was mixed with the smell of old leather, books damp from the humid air, and the breakfast being served up to locals with long faces and thick newspapers. We almost had the place to ourselves, aside from the vendors who sat listening to their radios or digging through merchandise.
That night we bought empanadas a block from the hostel. It was a cramped store, no bigger than my bedroom, but the line of locals going out the door paid tribute to the talent of the small old man with spectacles on the tip of his nose slowly serving each customer, wrapping the pasteries in packing paper, pausing to say hello to a friend or to ask your order again; everyone happy to wait. Traditionally empanadas come in different shapes: crescents, circles, squares, to indicate their contents of spinach, blue cheese, vegetables, ham and cheese, or my favorite Caprese (mozarella, tomato, and basil). His were definitely the best I have ever had and I got four for less than five dollars.
We spent the night talking with people from our hostel in the bar. I met a guy from Paraguay who is studying political science too. We had the most fascinating conversations about international relations and it was so gratifying to be able to answer his questions about the US political system and to express my opinions with fluidity and clarity.
One of our goals for the trip was to see a Malango, or tango show, so we walked to a nearby venue that someone at the hostel recommended. It was dead. Three couples were dancing and the tables were nearly empty. It was if we had walked into a movie scene. The music was slow and solemn and the dancers appeared to be in a trance moving pointed toes and outstretched arms with a precision that almost seemed robotic. Feeling like we were intruding on a intimate moment, we headed back to the hostel to get to know more of the people staying with us. But it is was these moments of feeling like we had stepped back in time that I loved most about our trip. Buenos Aires has a mystical energy that makes you feel that you have been transported to another world entirely.
Saturday:
We didn't have to wait long to see the tango. Saturday morning we found our selves in the bustling El caminito (little street) en La Boca (the mouth), the working class neighborhood in the city's port. Walking the colorful streets amongst flocks of tourists, it was fun to imagine what it was like when it was filled with sailors drinking beers in the colorfully painted bars and brothels of one of Latin Americas major ports. We were advised by locals and backpackers alike to not stray from the main drag and from the bus we were able to see that the paper mache statues and the tango dancers in elaborate costumes were a far cry from the reality of the people living in this "rough neighborhood".
We didn't get enough of the gardens in Palermo on Wednesday, so ended our day by the pond in the rose garden.
Saturday was also the night we decided to eat out. We headed to "Desnivel" a parilla (traditional Argentinian restaraunt serving up beef, baked cheese, pasta, and bottels of melbec) which was described as being a "dirt-cheap right of passage" and was on the main drag, Defensa, of San Telmo (five minute walk from the hostel). It did not let us down. The old men serving the tables were loud and friendly, quick to joke and always smiling. The food and the service definitly paid tribute to the huge Italian influence in Argentina. We ate all of the traditional plates: steak, pasta, cheese, caprese salad, fresh bread, and red wine. We left with money to spare and full bellies...and a new friend Katherine, also staying our hostel, who came out with us.
Sunday:
La feria de Mataderos was by far my favorite experience from the trip. It was about an hour bus ride to the Mataderos Barrio (meatpacking district) on the western edge of the city. There was a huge stage where children danced with their teachers in traditional outfits. Below, couples poured in from all directions to dance the Argentinian version of La Cueca. Stalls were overflowing with meat, cheese, and dulce de leche. There was row after row of mate gourds, brightly colored clothing, and silver jewelry. After shopping for christmas presents and things to bring back to our host families...and a few trinkets for ourselves, we ate tamales and strawberries with fresh cream from one of the dozens of food stands, enjoying the music and another day of sunshine.
Monday:
Emily and I spent the morning in La Plaza del Congreso (Camille wasn't feeling well). We tried to get into the congress (the first time accidentally through the senators entrance...haha) before finding out that, due to an event, it was closed to tourists during the day. We were disappointed because the building was beautiful and we both had interest in learning about the government, but we instead went to the bookstore and cafe owned and run by Las Madres de La Plaza de Mayo. They are a really incredible group of women who have set an example for the world in their tireless pursuit for justice in the years following the military dictatorship.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mothers_of_the_Plaza_de_Mayo
Afterwords, we headed back to San Telmo for our last gelato and a relaxing afternoon in the park talking about all of our adventures to come and watching a tango performance at a restaurant nearby. We spent our last few Argentinian pesos stocking up on Mate and buying chocolate for our friends in Chile and then headed back to the hostel to get ready for La Bomba, a drum performance that takes place every Monday night.
We ended up going with a huge group of people from France, England, Holland, Brazil, New Zealand, and the US. We got up to the second row during the two hour concert. The ability of the conductor to orchestrate a group of 15 plus drummers, with hand motions and jumps into the air, was impressive. Afterwords we headed to a small restaurant to eat choripan and empanadas and drink a few beers, before calling it a night.
Our flight was at 7:20 the next morning, so we caught a couple of hours of sleep before taking a shuttle to the airport at 4:45.
I loved the tranquility of the city, the flavorful food, and the chance to meet so many wonderful people from all over the world. People were exceedingly friendly, bus drivers, stylish locals, and backpackers alike. However, I was ready to head back to Chile to see my friends and family, to speak Chileno, and eat pan con palta for "once". Traveling while here is bittersweet. It is a dream come true to be able to explore so many new places, but it is hard to leave Valparaíso. When I walked through the door, Magdalena jumped into my arms and I was thrilled to spend the afternoon chatting with my host mom about all I had seen over lunch. After class, I headed to the "Casa de Colores" to share chocolate and to catch up with my friends after nearly two weeks of being away.
One of my greatest blessings I have realized throughout this experience is to be surrounded by loving people and wonderful opportunities whereever I go. I was thrilled to spend the weekend with the Mapuche family, a week in Argentina, and content to come back to Valparaíso after it all. I am so excited for my travels in December, and looking forward to being home for Christmas and seeing all the friends and family that I miss everyday. It is a blessing to be content in the present and to be equally content with what is to come. I know that I will be leaving one beautiful place for another and one group of people I love for all the people I love at home.
We ended our day at the botanical gardens, walking the paths, soaking up the sun, and chatting on the benches before heading back the hostel to make dinner. We decided to save money by eating out one night, doing a snack instead of lunch (Usually ice cream!), and filling up on the free breakfast int the mornings. This turned out to be perfect because we had all missed cooking for ourselves and the fruits and vegetables here are much less expensive than in the US. Also, who doesn't love to eat ice cream or alfahores (chocolate-covered cookies) for lunch?
Thursday:
Halloween. True to our gringo roots, we felt we had to celebrate Halloween, even if no one else was. The day was gray and drizzly...perfect for a stroll through the infamous Cemetario de Recoleta, the resting place of Argentina's most rich and famous.
We left just as the rain started to pick up and made our way to another highlight of the Recoleta neighborhood: El Ateno. It is an old theater that over 100 years ago was transformed into the most extravagent bookstore I have ever seen. People were nestled into the box seats skimming backs of books and, on the stage below, couples chatted over expresso and lemon pie. The fresco on the ceiling, the red carpets, the marble columns, it was all breathtaking; the sheer number of books overwhelming. The rain pounded on the roof, the light was dim, and we spent over an hour walking the rows, taking it all in.
When the sky began to clear, we walked to a café to eat the customary medialuna (a croissant covered in a honey-like glaze) and then made the trek back to La Plaza de Mayo to see La Casa Rosada (president's house) and the subterranean history museum behind it.
Friday:
We decided after a lazy morning that it was about time we got to know the neighborhood we were staying in and spent the day wandering through the San Telmo antique market. With its high vault ceilings, glass dome, and emerald green accents, the building itself was worth the visit. Inside, we found millions of treasures that could only be encountered in a culturally rich city like BA. There were rows of leather purses, haunting porcelain dolls, old postcards written to loved ones, tins for yerba mate and chocolates, white gloves and glistening broaches from a more extravagant time, and piles of fresh produce.
The building seemed to emanate a retrospective energy, almost as if it was haunted by the rich that fled the neighborhood centuries ago in the face of the yellow fever epidemic, leaving their extravagant appartments and the material excesses of their wealth to the impoverished that flooded into the neighborhood in their place. I couldn't help but wonder about the stories of the lace dresses and crystal glasses that sat collecting dust in the middle of a city that has seen so much change. In the center, a cafe served up the closest thing to a US breakfast I have yet to see here: Eggs, potatoes, and a hearty serving of meat. The air was mixed with the smell of old leather, books damp from the humid air, and the breakfast being served up to locals with long faces and thick newspapers. We almost had the place to ourselves, aside from the vendors who sat listening to their radios or digging through merchandise.
That night we bought empanadas a block from the hostel. It was a cramped store, no bigger than my bedroom, but the line of locals going out the door paid tribute to the talent of the small old man with spectacles on the tip of his nose slowly serving each customer, wrapping the pasteries in packing paper, pausing to say hello to a friend or to ask your order again; everyone happy to wait. Traditionally empanadas come in different shapes: crescents, circles, squares, to indicate their contents of spinach, blue cheese, vegetables, ham and cheese, or my favorite Caprese (mozarella, tomato, and basil). His were definitely the best I have ever had and I got four for less than five dollars.
We spent the night talking with people from our hostel in the bar. I met a guy from Paraguay who is studying political science too. We had the most fascinating conversations about international relations and it was so gratifying to be able to answer his questions about the US political system and to express my opinions with fluidity and clarity.
One of our goals for the trip was to see a Malango, or tango show, so we walked to a nearby venue that someone at the hostel recommended. It was dead. Three couples were dancing and the tables were nearly empty. It was if we had walked into a movie scene. The music was slow and solemn and the dancers appeared to be in a trance moving pointed toes and outstretched arms with a precision that almost seemed robotic. Feeling like we were intruding on a intimate moment, we headed back to the hostel to get to know more of the people staying with us. But it is was these moments of feeling like we had stepped back in time that I loved most about our trip. Buenos Aires has a mystical energy that makes you feel that you have been transported to another world entirely.
Saturday:
We didn't have to wait long to see the tango. Saturday morning we found our selves in the bustling El caminito (little street) en La Boca (the mouth), the working class neighborhood in the city's port. Walking the colorful streets amongst flocks of tourists, it was fun to imagine what it was like when it was filled with sailors drinking beers in the colorfully painted bars and brothels of one of Latin Americas major ports. We were advised by locals and backpackers alike to not stray from the main drag and from the bus we were able to see that the paper mache statues and the tango dancers in elaborate costumes were a far cry from the reality of the people living in this "rough neighborhood".
We didn't get enough of the gardens in Palermo on Wednesday, so ended our day by the pond in the rose garden.
Saturday was also the night we decided to eat out. We headed to "Desnivel" a parilla (traditional Argentinian restaraunt serving up beef, baked cheese, pasta, and bottels of melbec) which was described as being a "dirt-cheap right of passage" and was on the main drag, Defensa, of San Telmo (five minute walk from the hostel). It did not let us down. The old men serving the tables were loud and friendly, quick to joke and always smiling. The food and the service definitly paid tribute to the huge Italian influence in Argentina. We ate all of the traditional plates: steak, pasta, cheese, caprese salad, fresh bread, and red wine. We left with money to spare and full bellies...and a new friend Katherine, also staying our hostel, who came out with us.
Sunday:
La feria de Mataderos was by far my favorite experience from the trip. It was about an hour bus ride to the Mataderos Barrio (meatpacking district) on the western edge of the city. There was a huge stage where children danced with their teachers in traditional outfits. Below, couples poured in from all directions to dance the Argentinian version of La Cueca. Stalls were overflowing with meat, cheese, and dulce de leche. There was row after row of mate gourds, brightly colored clothing, and silver jewelry. After shopping for christmas presents and things to bring back to our host families...and a few trinkets for ourselves, we ate tamales and strawberries with fresh cream from one of the dozens of food stands, enjoying the music and another day of sunshine.
Monday:
Emily and I spent the morning in La Plaza del Congreso (Camille wasn't feeling well). We tried to get into the congress (the first time accidentally through the senators entrance...haha) before finding out that, due to an event, it was closed to tourists during the day. We were disappointed because the building was beautiful and we both had interest in learning about the government, but we instead went to the bookstore and cafe owned and run by Las Madres de La Plaza de Mayo. They are a really incredible group of women who have set an example for the world in their tireless pursuit for justice in the years following the military dictatorship.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mothers_of_the_Plaza_de_Mayo
Afterwords, we headed back to San Telmo for our last gelato and a relaxing afternoon in the park talking about all of our adventures to come and watching a tango performance at a restaurant nearby. We spent our last few Argentinian pesos stocking up on Mate and buying chocolate for our friends in Chile and then headed back to the hostel to get ready for La Bomba, a drum performance that takes place every Monday night.
Our flight was at 7:20 the next morning, so we caught a couple of hours of sleep before taking a shuttle to the airport at 4:45.
One of my greatest blessings I have realized throughout this experience is to be surrounded by loving people and wonderful opportunities whereever I go. I was thrilled to spend the weekend with the Mapuche family, a week in Argentina, and content to come back to Valparaíso after it all. I am so excited for my travels in December, and looking forward to being home for Christmas and seeing all the friends and family that I miss everyday. It is a blessing to be content in the present and to be equally content with what is to come. I know that I will be leaving one beautiful place for another and one group of people I love for all the people I love at home.
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