Sipping that good air in Buenos Aires

The air here, it really does taste good. It tastes like tango music and far away memories of when the economy wasn’t as volatile, like the Malbec that we drank every single night with dinner, like the dulce de leche that exists in every single sweet thing here. For five days I walked the city with my flight attendant travel gals, Val and Alex, falling in love with the subtle beauty that lingers when you reluctantly leave it.

The infamous obelisco, a central monument to commemorate the 400th anniversary of the city. Apparently it’s haunted too, from one of the workers who fell off during construction. Spooky!

The history of Argentina’s economy is that of volatility and inflation, a story that we were forced to experience as the peso was a remarkable 37 to our US dollar. The airbnb we stayed at was a dirt cheap steal, and everything we did we stared in shock at the receipt… this steak dinner with two bottles of wine cannot possibly be THIS CHEAP?

As good as it is for us consuming as tourists, it’s a sobering reminder of the country’s struggle. As we walked down the sidewalks I noticed so many beautiful buildings capturing that European architecture that has given Buenos Aires the nickname of the “Paris of South America”, scattered in between drab, ordinary looking buildings and run down shops. It’s not exactly Paris, no… it’s definitely South America. But it doesn’t need to be Paris to be beautiful. Paris is Paris. They have snobby rules about food and beautiful, subtle romance guiding their streets. Buenos Aires is tango and mate, friendliness and cosmopolitan culture. They have an Italian musicality to their Spanish, a relaxed attitude and I never felt like I was an unwanted tourist. In fact they spoke mainly Spanish to us, never relying on their English to appease us. It was nice to have to dig into my language capabilities instead of resting on the assurance that as Americans we would be taken care of.

January: is it a good time to visit? Temperatures rose to a downright sultry 93 degrees while we were here, and when we walked around we remembered to slather ourselves in sunscreen and drink pitcher after pitcher of lemonade at every cafe we could find. Lemonade with mint was a popular restaurant item, less sugar than I’m accustomed to, more tart and fresh than regular lemonade in the states.

However, even though it was hot, it was good for people who want to enjoy a city without a lot of tourists. I don’t know how it is during the other seasons but we were spared of the crowds and mess of travelers that I was expecting. January for portenos is the holiday season when everyone gets away from it all and travels elsewhere, beaches and beyond. Streets were clear and free for us to roam the city like it was ours.

We arrived, and threw our bags in the hotel, arriving much too early for the leisurely time unobsessed.

“Your room will be ready in four hours.” the concierge, who coincidentally had worked as a flight attendant for Southwest a few years back, told us with a half smile apology.

Ah the sense of time in South America. It moves like an injured turtle. Of course, it was slightly annoying when we were waiting for our check, but hey, you’re in Buenos Aires, might as well roll with it. You must be prepared for a leisurey wait anywhere in the city; it’s a very busy city but a very relaxed one too.

And that is how our unplanned walking tour began, a rather sleepy but excited one where we realized that our hotel was a 20 minute walk to the government center, the Casa Rosada. This is the much prettier version of the American White House. If you took a couple weeks of Spanish class then you know Rosada means “Pink,” and I recently discovered that the pink color might have been created with white paint swirled with cow’s blood. Fun!

It’s also THE balcony of Eva Peron speech legacy. What a gal. From the humble pampas to the pink house, she was a symbol of the people, a champion of the working class who fell over themselves with grief when she died at the tragically young age of 33. While similarly controversial due to her support of Peron’s socially repressive rule in Argentina and her tendency to exploit her own cult of personality, she was an advocate for progressive change and gave generous wage increases, support for the disenfranchised, and necessary social services for her people.

I admire any woman who takes charge.

Bougie Bookstores

El Ateneo is the most beautiful bookstore in the world, so the internet tells me. It’s a snazzy update on the opera house it used to be, a glittering cave of books and levels to chose where to photograph from. An instagram dream. We perused and lounged in the cafe on the previous stage, indulging on some delicious squash tarts and coffee drinks.

Can you find me? I’m training to become a spy for the government.

We caught up on some serious reading, as you can see here.

Oh, I dream of coming back here with a proper ballroom gown and tangoing across the aisles. Buenos Aires, you seductress you.

Beef or Cow?

Dinner was to be, obviously, the only acceptable option of Steak. Recommended restaurants to us are as follows : La Hormiga, Las Cabras, and Don Julio. You can either have the steak, or the filet, or the beef tartar.

Oh and yes, yes, the rumors are absolutely true. You must eat steak here or else perish with tragic sadness. If you’re a vegetarian, then I’m truly sorry. I used to be one of you and I would carefully order side dishes and salads in a steakhouse situation… but maybe, just maybe, nobody needs to know about your decisions here in Buenos Aires. I mean… maybe since you’re on the opposite side of the world that everything you do is the opposite, like Opposite Day. Eating that juicy, perfectly cooked steak with the mouth watering flesh creating an invaluable memory of treasured taste that makes the city so famous.

They come with delightful side dishes, and we were careful to order large salads and grilled veggies to accompany our mega meat meal. I admit that I could only have the red meat twice during our trip, otherwise I would fall over with the meat sweats.

And of course, you must top it off with a clink of Malbec glasses in unison. It’s only proper.

Notable mentions when trying the luxurious tastes and yumminess of Buenos Aires include Cafe con Leche, media de luna (croissant for breakfast) Alfajores (shortbread cookie sandwich with dulce de leche goodness all squished up inside), helado (ice cream which is the creamiest of the ice creams), and the Pisco Sour, a lime flavored cocktail made with Peruvian liquor and egg whites.

Alfajores are seriously my favorite thing to eat here. They are the local sweet treat. Get them from the bakery and not in a packaged cookie situation.

Stay in Palermo!

Palermo is the neighborhood we ended up spending the most time in, the restaurants and bars modern and the clientele young, cosmopolitan, and excited about nightlife. The expat community is mostly here as well, and it’s easy to see why. The walkability and convenience of the area are very welcomed, the buildings lined with trees, the architecture cute and displayed often with an artistic mural. I enjoyed walking around, shopping in the unique boutique stores, taking photos of the graffitied walls and buildings. It’s a place tourists like to visit without making it a Disneyland neon sign for tourism.

If you’d like to try a different scene, Recoleta, where the cemetery is and supposedly more ritzier, and San Telmo, the tango in the streets neighborhood, are two back up places I’d stay in next time. Like any large and sprawling city, they all have distinct personalities and will attract different kinds of people to live. Alex mentioned that she wouldn’t mind staying in San Telmo, as she loved the feel of the place, the cultural heritage of tango dancing, and the plaza architecture.

The neighborhood is just too cute! It’s the most spread out, spanning from mini regions Palamero Soho to Palermo Hollywood to Palermo Chico, where the Japanese Garden is.

Japanese Garden in Palermo Chico

The garden is here worth checking out! We spent a little less than an hour walking around, visiting the Japanese cultural center (mainly for the air conditioning) and feeling oh so zen. It’s beautiful and bigger than I expected.

You can feed the koi fish in the pond, and see Japanese flora like bonsai trees, azalea, sakura, and momiji. It’s a nice refuge from the concrete city walking tour, although there is a small admission fee of 150 AR pesos.

the most beautiful cemetery in the world

Recoleta Cemetery is something you must schedule into your itinerary. If you don’t, you’ll be missing out on the most beautiful part of the city. It feels like an outdoor art museum, filled with Italian sculptures and marble. It is extremely fabulous.

Death is a sad thing, regrettably we must do it, but if you MUST die, you might as well be preserved in a beautiful tomb amongst all your other important friends and family, and looked after by the general public. Also, there’s a cute cemetery cat that wanders around sniffing out for what I assume must be ghost trails.

A fact I learned from Val on this trip: Italian marble is actually quite cheap in Italy, which is why everything is made from the material. People outside of the region might have the impression that marble is reserved for the wealthy, when it was never the intention.

Walking past the haunting statues was so peaceful and … I do love cemeteries and think they are so beautiful. I like to be reminded that we live on in memories of our loved ones when we pass, and the time and effort it takes to build a monument to their existence on Earth is extremely comforting.

This cemetery was not for the middle class or poor, it was a testament to those wealthy citizens who could afford the elaborate testimony to their lives. Over 6,000 resting souls lay here at rest, including Eva Peron, and other very notable celebrities such as artists, presidents, and a few tragic stories too.

This grave above belongs to Rufina Cambaceres, a woman who was buried alive and awakening suddenly to her dirt filled confines, attempting to lift the casket to her own survival. She is “the girl who died twice.”

We couldn’t leave Recoleta without finding Eva Peron’s gravesite. It was underwhelming, but still beautiful of course. I expected gorgeous statues, flowers strewn everywhere, notes of love and adoration left for her ghost to find. But it was simple, black, minimal. A few flowers left by the site, but nothing more than that.

Normal people had to die too, apparently, and those were put into walls that looked something more modest than the seven feet tall columned arched structures.

In Italy, the deceased would have their picture on the front of their casket cubby hole door, along with their name. Here I could only find the names, and some were even missing.

A hauntingly beautiful walk along the cemetery will surly give you inspiration to appreciate the beautiful things in your world. I also discovered the Montparnasse cemetery in Paris on a different trip a few years ago, which you can read about here.

It’s Tango Time

We needed to dance our way into Buenos Aires to get a true picture of life here. While Val had to leave us a day early because work summoned her for more travels, Alex and I went to Milongo Parakultural, excited for some dancing inspiration. After the first few hours of casual milonga social dancing, the professional dancers took to the stage and showed off their tango dresses and heels, sweeping across the floor with a mixture of grace and precision.

I’ve always been attracted to ballroom dancing, mainly because it’s so classy and exquisite looking, the kind of skill you might need if you were a secret spy and needed to seduce an ambassador. It’s the perfect way to become unassumingly close to a person and then charm your way into their top classified government secrets.

In between and before the show tango dancers, the crowd would stand up randomly from their dining tables around the dance floor, the men locking eyes with a woman and registering her signaled interest in him as a dance partner. The whole process was so subtle I barely knew what was going on until Alex pointed out the minute body language gestures to me. Tango is a way of flirting, a method of communication that doesn’t use any words.

The milonga is a social dance space, the dancers flowing in and out of the dance, weaving in between each other as one unit, heads a mere inch apart from one another, their eyes avoiding direct contact and allowing the tension between them to communicate direction. It’s spontaneous, passionate, just dripping with sex appeal. Tango reminds me of a couple who has such good sex that they can’t bear to be away from each other for more than a minute, even though their personalities clash so much they drive each other insane.

Or, sometimes, it can be quieter than that. I observed some couples barely moving their feet but staying connected in a tender embrace, as though they both wanted to say they needed each other but refrained at the last second from expressing their affections.

This particular milonga was a popular place for expats and tourists; we noticed a lot of foreigners watching from the back who did not reserve tables and were able to watch without attempting the dance. Alex and I drank red wine and watched, admiring the outfits which varied from glittery formal body con dress to leggings and a t-shirt. Everyone, of course, was wearing their cutest tango shoes. We noted the styles, and looked at each other thinking the same exact thing : We need those shoes! We need to take a class!

Overhearing a British couple’s conversation, there was a rather different perspective on the show. They were discussing how boring it was, and that they’d seen more passionate shows in other milongas. “They are dancing so pretentiously, everyone here is cold.” I can’t speak directly to that opinion since this was the only milonga we chose to see, but i’d be happy to return and decide for myself whether or not the man had an acute observation… or if his British accent was a mere veil to his ordinary ideas. .

Alex and I carried on with our promise, booking a tango class with DNI Tango for the next day, we searched for appropriate dance attire. After taking the class, I can confidently say that what you wear literally doesn’t matter a single hoot or a single holler. You can wear a ball gown or shorts and a tank top and they would both be deemed acceptable. Two Chinese girls were wearing frilly blue and yellow doll-like dresses, and a few dancers were in jeans. A couple of people did not wear heels, opting for a comfy Toms like flat instead.

I would have to give it high marks on all accounts. The teacher was enthusiastic and extremely nice, the lesson was easy enough to follow but difficult enough to be interesting. The price was a miraculous 0$ for first timers, and there were enough men and women to have a partner for each rotation. The primary language of instruction is Spanish, yet they are willing to adjust to English if enough foreigners are signed up for the class and require it. You still need to pay close attention, though. Their English is not perfect.

Tango is all about anticipation. If the lead moves forward you move back. If he moves sideways you move sideways too. The instructor told me, during a brief moment of misunderstanding, that I should use the man as a prop, as a structure for me to manipulate.

Alright, I thought. I can handle this Tango philosophy as long as it means I am in control. Part of my problem with dancing is letting go, allowing the guy to take the lead. Especially if he isn’t a very experienced dancer (read: isn’t good), I have the instinct to lead instead, pushing him into a turn or stepping a certain way that I think he should lead with.

My current dance partner, James, stood there while I pushed off his hands to do my own fancy boomerang turn, kicking up my heel with an extra fancy flare.

“De donde eres?” he asked me, and I had to explain that my Spanish skills were limited. “Estados Unidos. Hablo espanol solo pequito, lo siento,” my eyelashes batting just a little extra for the cute porteno boy.

“Ah,” James said with a shrug. “Ok cool. I’m from Brooklyn.”

We both laughed, and quickly resumed our “normal” personas as our Argentine characters disappeared. He instantly became 50% less attractive. We bonded over how nice it is here compared to the hustle and bustle of the New York, and I learned that he’s here working remotely for some banking company. Getting paid American dollars and don’t ever have to go into the office? Wow, I thought, that is something I should be aspiring towards. Imagine working from home, from your laptop, in your tiny little beach house in the Caribbean, or working from a hammock in Tulum, your balcony in Madrid?

Whenever I meet expats abroad, there is a certain familiarity that happens automatically. It’s the lovely effect of travel fish out of home city phenomenon. Meet each other in a different city and suddenly you have so much in common, you are best friends, and will immediately become closer than you’d ever be if you’d met in your home town. It’s partly a mirage, but also authentic in the way connection can be made without the subtext of societal rules and boundaries between us. Expats are both outsiders from the culture they’re living in, and therefore there are no rules that apply directly between them. What connections and friendships are made are without the white noise of appropriateness.

The class was over an hour, and we learned all the basics, alignment, and general steps necessary to fake you way through a dance.

Alex and I took it to the next level and bought official tango shoes. If you take classes at DNI Tango, you can find shoes on the first floor of the school, multiple styles and colors available for your next rendezvous on the dance floor.

Tango was the highlight of our trip, giving me such inspiration to try taking classes back home. I have to put these heels to good use, after all.

As a wise anonymous person once said, “Life is like tango. Sad, sensual, sexy, and quiet.”

San Telmo Market

Come to Buenos Aires on a Thursday so you can take it easy and then go out for the weekend, then take care of that hangover on Sunday as you don sunglasses and a hat into the Sunday market in San Telmo.

Look at this stuff, isn’t it neat? Wouldn’t you think my collection’s complete?

The market spans for multiple blocks, there’s an inside section featuring mostly food and bakery items. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it until you eat one: YOU MUST GET AN ALFAJORES COOKIE TREAT! I had my first one here, and it was glorious beyond all measure of gloriousness.

Rows and rows of tables outside carried these cool antiques you could give your favorite collector friend or relative, any jewelry piece you could imagine. Rings, necklaces, old telephones and record paraphernalia, ornamental costume pins, sun hats, clothing pieces… it’s the shiniest display of knick knacks and hoarder gear that you can find, and a glimpse into the opulent lifestyle of portenos several generations ago. The possibilities for eclectic home decor are endless.

San Telmo market stretches for block after block, and if you’re lucky you can see a live tango show in the main Plaza Dorrego while sipping on mate and munching on a sandwich. Pick up any souvenir your travel heart desires, they probably have it here! My only regret is not purchasing a mate cup, which is essentially a hollowed out gourd painted on the outside with ornate metal handles attached to its dome bottom.

While we weren’t lucky enough to see the street tango dancing that I had read about on Sunday, Alex went back a few days later and saw some pretty cool tango without the market shenanigans in the way.

hop over to uruguay

Before we left Argentina we really needed to go to Uruguay. It’s just a one hour ferry ride over, after all, and we’d heard great things from other travelers about the port city of Colonia, where the ferry docks. It’s a very doable day trip, and worth the next passport stamp too. We were met with a gorgeous, tranquil town by the sea, with hidden wine bars and beautiful houses, cute cafes, and an entirely pleasant walk around the city. The day passed in no time, and we caught the last ferry back at 4:30.

One last thing before we go

Tango and steak are obviously the activities you should prioritize, and if I could do my trip over again I’d try out more than one milonga, as I believe they all have their own flavor and personality. I would still stay in Palermo, but venture out to Recoleta and explore a little more out there. If you are staying for longer than a week, you’d be happy to take a trip to a winery near Buenos Aires, or even stay a little longer in Uruguay and catch a day in Montevideo.

Either way, consider your trip made if you have taken a tango class and not fallen on your face!

Happy Flying!

xoxoxox

Buenos Aires, A City of Beauty and Warmth