Getting off the plane in Buenos Aires reminded us of the UK. Air brisk, people fast, pace beyond our control. Our toothless taxi driver did get us to our apartment, with a side-serving of eye rolling and a rushed cash withdrawal leaving my card in the ATM machine. Not the best start, but our Airbnb was surprisingly slick for the princely sum of £40 so we were excited about the all booty we could claim in this fair, new land. Until we went out for our first breakfast that is, which cost us £30 for a bowl of granola, eggs on toast and a couple of coffees. My temperature started to rise, there’s nothing I like less than A. Bad. Deal. I had been promised, or rather should I say, I had promised myself without doing the research, that Argentina was going to be good value and the purse watching would be saved for Brazil and Chile. It’s in the name I suppose, ‘argent’: money.
This theme continued, with BA reminding us of London at almost every turn. Block streets, high rises as far as the eye could see, rich & poor all intertwined fighting different battles to get through their days. We were staying in Palermo Soho which I can only describe as the cool area of town, very reminiscent in feel to Melbourne in Australia and Shoreditch UK with old shops turned into coffee houses, well designed blackboard menus and kitsch tea-cups refashioned as beer glasses. We had been told that BA had a European feel to it and walking down the gently tree-lined streets, we were not disappointed on this front.
Now, an interesting topic: the BA subway system, better known as the ‘Subte’. what a wonderful idea we thought, to familiarise ourself with this huge metropolis through the metro system and we had been told that it is efficient, good value and a great way to explore the city. Said system, however, is accessed via the Argentinian version of an Oyster card, the Sube card, which it turns out is one of the chinks in BA’s armour; a mystical mythical item which can only be sourced by undertaking a valiant quest. Tom and I initially popped our heads into a couple of kioskos, little shops adorned with the Sube sign and were met by friendly owners who said they were out of stock, try the nearest station. Ok, we light-footed it on to said Subte station, where the man at the desk looked at us slightly perplexed and redirected us to the kiosks. ‘We’ve tried the kiosks’ we replied smiles falling, so he sent us 500m down the road to another Subte station. Tensions beginning to fray a little, we arrived at Bulmes Subte (via 2-3 more empty kioskos) and asked the man for a card, he shrugged unsmiling and said no, to try the opposite platform. Through heavy lidded eyes, we mumbled a thanks and returned above ground to cross the busy road to descend again where we met what can only be described as the world’s worst human. This lady was unfamiliar with eye contact, she shrugged when we asked exasperated where we might find a card, and pointed up the stairs and out. Our quest was over, we had failed. Since both the tube and the buses are only accessible by Sube card, our only option was to get taxis around town.
Later that day, we enjoyed reading an online discussion forum entitled ‘Who do I have to blow to get a Sube card?’ (sorry to those offended by this), which revealed that supply for the material to make Sube cards has been out of stock for months, and no one has bothered to address it. Tom’s friend Fede, a local to BA, informed us that this is just one of those things about South America; sometimes things just don’t work as they should - no reason for it. Call it a quirk. [See section on money, see future blogs...!]
We were lucky enough to spend an afternoon with this old friend of Tom’s, who invited us for lunch in the slightly faceless equivalent of Canary Wharf Puerto Madero. This was my first all-you-can-eat buffet since the Pizza Hut of my teens, where the waiters come round at regular intervals slicing barbecued meat of all varieties off kebabs straight onto the plate. It was hard to say no when the perfectly salted beef came round, followed by sausage, pork belly and chicken. Half a farmyard in fact, not unfamiliar on the dining tables of South America who are yet to fall into favour with vegan favourites chk’n and facon…and vegetables if I’m being honest. We waddled out promising great things about future vegetarianism, and waddled into a fancy ice cream parlour where decision paralysis took hold, presumably because I was full. Mint and lemon I chose, quite a jarring combination. We waved goodbye to Fede and his daughter, satiated with a fresh plan to head to the coastal town of Puerto Madryn to see whales and penguins if we could wedge it in.
Back to the money. Fiscal issues if you have ever travelled for more than just a holiday do tend to run close to the surface of most things. So yes, we were discovering that Argentina was wildly expensive; we sat in one restaurant and swiftly left after five minutes after doing the maths: £35 for one steak. We were perplexed, but had caught wind of extreme inflation (10 fold) over the last couple of years. And then something happened. We got paid. Yes, for travelling the world, for seeing all the sights, for not working a jot; we got paid. £18.50 to be precise found its way into our account labelled ‘Iguazu Argentina’. Hmmn, we looked at each other coming up with a few good reasons, joking that maybe we get half our money back on every purchase made. Hahahahahah. Hrmph.
Well, that is exactly what was happening. It took us a few tentative days to work it out, and even longer to trust it but for every card payment (on an international card) made through an Argentinian company, you do in fact get 50% cashback. Our last few days flashed before our eyes; £30 breakfast now £15; that steak that we didn’t have £17.50; the bus we winced at buying now only £25. I have to say this is a once in a lifetime experience. Confusing doesn’t cut it. Locals pay twice as much as tourists. We discovered that this is a financial scheme designed to revive the damaged tourism market in the country, with those with access to US dollars paying the ‘blue dollar’ rate as a reward for using a stable currency, unlike the poor bruised Argentine peso. It truly does shift perspective on the concept of inflation and the true impact of it outside of our UK bubble; a hard-working Argentinian cleaner needs to pay twice that of a rich travelling tourist. Hard to swallow.
Anyway, in short Buenos Aires didn’t challenge us much. The Japanese garden which features in the top five things to do in BA was frankly weak, and the most exciting spot of the trip were some giraffes and an ostrich through the tightly woven wire fence of a closed and seemingly forgotten eco-park. The highly promised gardens of Palermo were largely closed and the nightlife slightly tacky. This was our dwindling impression of Buenos, that is until we got our bums across town to do another free/not free walking tour around ‘La Boca’ district on the port side of town.
As we walked up, the exciting buzz of new culture was palpable. The distinctive accordion sound of tango music filled our ears, palates sprung by the smell of roasting nuts and smoking barbecued beef. The area is named after the mouth of the port, where the sea-trade that fed Buenos Aires would arrive, bringing goods as well as immigrants and all their colours from Europe. The colour in La Boca is world-famous (‘Top 10 most photographed areas in the world’ [apparently]), the buildings historically made from a hotch-potch of scrap metal from the docks to create what was effectively a refugee camp. In the late 1800s hordes of Italians, Spanish, Armenians and others all made the hefty boat trip to South America in search of safer, prosperous futures in the land of gold. On arrival they set up in the dock, melding together their musics, foods and languages with the locals to create many things, one of which is the famous music/dance combination of tango. As you walk down El Caminito - the main street in La Boca - you are treated to many performances of Tango, the steaming sexy serious Strictly dance. We learned that Tango in fact evolved from a type of fighting between the men in the Boca refugee neighbourhood, chests-puffed, arms out, trying to trip each other up. Obviously, as with all timeless forms of art, this was decried as disgusting by the aristocrats and made illegal. The danger of it piqued the interests of artists, where it developed slowly and quietly into an art-form performed by men and women. The aristocrats, interested in this new and palatable artistic expression, started to pay to see it, it was decriminalised and became the Tango we know today.
So, the big question: is Buenos Aires worth a visit? The short answer? Probably. It offers home comforts, with a light sprinkling of culture and was a place to reset before swinging on down to continue our trip in Patagonia. Thankfully you don’t need a Sube card to board a plane…
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