Buenos Aires, Buenos Aires, ArgentinaA gentle breeze blew as Elenka and I walked home after a night on the town in Buenos Aires.
We were talking about how no one had tried to rob us or pick our pockets during the entire time we were here. Suddenly, voices and loud running came at us from behind. I turned quickly to find a cop chasing a bad hombre. With night-stick in hand the constable threw the guy against a wall, then whipped out his revolver. His partner arrived, frisked the man, then cuffed him. Elenka and I had narrowly missed a collateral damage trampling. We almost felt it was a show, and that it had been put on for us on our final night in the Argentine capital.
I have mixed feelings about Buenos Aires this time around. It’s a little worse for wear. While there were lots of police, who do seem to be able to keep the bad people at bay, there were far too many homeless people. The sidewalks were a broken mess, in drastic need of repair. And there was hovno (Slovak word for excrement, which doesn’t sound nearly as bad as shit) everywhere, but no stray dogs.
Food in general was also an issue. We ate just twice a day. Breakfast consisted mostly of sweets, sweets and more sweets, with cheese on the side - the cheese of course, caused an anti-hovno effect. For lunch/dinner, which we’d have around three o’clock in the afternoon, it would be a bland, sometimes oily entrée, accompanied by a massive portion of potatoes which were fried in one of a half dozen or more ways. If we were unlucky enough to have vegetables served with our meal we could rest assured they’d be cooked to death.
I’d go to bed each night with a burping, burning tummy, feeling as though I’d swallowed a spoonful of Drano, then dream of the scrumptious Air Canada veggie meal I’d had on the flight down here. The same meal I had detested when I was eating it.
But then the night would go away and we’d rise with smiles, ready to tackle another struggle through the streets of Buenos Aires. Walking had become our daily adventure, so much so that we both managed to lose close to 10 pounds. Our hikes took us from San Telmo to Recoleta, to Palermo, to Barracas, to Puerto Madero, sometimes laden with rucksacks. Nothing could stop us. Why did we do this, when at any moment we might have found ourselves cleaning someone’s poop off our shoes or suffered a broken ankle? The architecture is mostly what it’s about - from neoclassical, to art deco, to art nouveau, to colourful colonial houses. Twelve foot high wooden doors; 16 foot high ceilings; shuttered windows; skeleton keys to let yourself in and out of your apartment. You feel as though you’ve been magically transported to the past.
I woke up this morning in Toronto without a sick stomach, and dearly missing Buenos Aires. Next time we’ll bring canned goods, Tums (antacids aren’t available) and barnyard style rubbers.
Stephaniez
2018-03-26
Is this where the retirement resources say at a certain age you just won't want to travel anymore? Hopefully not!