la cuidad de buenos aires

Someone told me, amongst the plethora of people I know who have come here before, that Buenos Aires has this way of getting under your skin, and you{re not quite certain exactly what it is that does this.

He was quite right.

It has been four days of craziness. And I absolutely love this city. It's a wonderful fusion of old and new, where parts of it remind me of Paris, and other suburbs like Boca I feel like I'm in Cuba, what with the brightly coloured buildings. The old buildings are so grand, all with big shutters and balconies, and Art Deco is the flavour of architecture wherever you look.

Our hostel is in the Microcentro, or middle of town, a great vibey sort of place to hang, the sun is only down in this place 6 hours a day. I have been getting to bed at 2.30am every night, and Dad has been especially ripping the ring out of it, finding mates and crawling in at 4.30 in his underpants like this morning. That was great.

So much history here too, I walked across this city twice and have seen pretty much everything it has to offer. My legs are aching. Eva Peron has saint status here, her museum has her original clothes therein and amazing footage of her life as an actress, before she married the president and found fans in the middle working class.

I have the soundtrack from the movie ensconced in my head. All day. It's getting intense.

Made a couple of friends in our hostel too. A great girl from the UK who is living here and studying Spañish, and like last night, a whole bunch of Brazilians and a Canadian chap who has been here for months and has shown me the ropes and local spots.

So much of this place cannot even be explianed with mere words. But it's hot and beautiful to be precise. Can't mention the Dirty War apparently. Argentines, who are so friendly and poised and fashion concious, will not speak of it. 30 000 people just disappeared during the disctatorship, missing, kidnapped, tortured etc. And they're still looking for some of these missing people.

Sounds a bit like South Africa's past.

We go on that fucking bus to Bariloche tonihgt. But buses here are muchos buen, I hear. They serve whisky and hot food and you can recline your seat right back. Most of the trip will be over the Pampas, or plains. It's going to be heavy going.
What with only the odd tumbleweed to see.

But Bariloche will be a backwater change to this crazy city, right on the edge of the Andes and in the lake district.
With shitloads of chocolate and ...gnomes apparently. Gnomes in whop windows are the vibe.

Interesting.

PS: I wonder if 'Que sa jorra' which means 'Go fuck yourself' in Catalan would be understood here¿ No particular reason, but I always liked using it with gusto in Spain.