Not so Buenos Aires

Despite the uncomfortable bus, we got a good amount of sleep on our overnight bus from Cordoba, but when we arrived we discovered the metro had not yet opened, which meant getting a taxi; something we have very rarely done on this trip. And it was absolutely freezing, so our hopes of the unseasonable cold weather being finished were dashed. When getting taxis in Argentina you have to struggle to get your own bag into the car before the guy standing by the front of the queue does it for you, obligating you to tip him. There seems to be a lot of tipping in Argentina and the people will ask you directly for it. There was a bit of this in Chile, but nothing like as bad as Argentina. You can't ask for a tip! Even at the supermarkets you have to be quick to pack your shopping or else someone else will do it then demand a tip. Anyway we managed to get our bags in and open the door ourselves to avoid the extra cost.

Old car

At the hostel, the guy working on the desk seemed quite hostile, as if he had just woken up. He let us in to dump our bags, as we had hoped, but then he told us that check-in wasn't until 2pm, so we couldn't stay. He told us there was a famous market on and we should visit that. What an unfriendly welcome, and the only place in nine months of travelling we have encountered something like that. Compare this to the people in Macleodganj in India who let us stay and gave us tea, even though we weren't going to stay there, or the place in China where they had let us use another room to sleep or shower because ours wasn't ready yet. So, literally shivering, we made our way to the street the market was on. Nobody had set up yet. We walked the full length of the street looking for any sign of a market, but found only icy winds. We spent some time (and money) in a cafe, waiting to see if the market materialised, but the few people who turned up with boxes looked doubtfully at the sky and then disappeared again.

Duff beer

Finally we could take no more and headed back to the hostel to ask for more clothes out of our bags. When we arrived the same horrible guy said “Don't you want to wait inside?” so we were in. After nearly four hours risking hypothermia we were allowed into the hostel. “Most people are up now”, he said as if in way of explanation, as if we were going to come in and make loads of noise and wake everyone up. Three hour later, all the up to 2pm, he finally checked us in. Now, I knew that Indians tended to be overly bureaucratic, but I had no idea Argentinians were so obsessed with following rules; or maybe it was just this hostel, or even just this receptionist. “Some people are still sleeping. They got back drunk very late last night, so don't worry you won't wake them” he told us. Then when we went into the room, none of the beds seemed to be free, although there were only three people in a six bed dorm. They had spread their stuff all over the room. Joanne was incandescent: he kept us waiting all of that time, probably just so some drunk people could lie in, and with all that time we were kept waiting they haven't even made sure the room is ready for us.

So called bife de chorizo (a lo pobre)

Bife de costilla a lo pobre

Now that we were allowed to, we both had showers, which were sorely needed just to warm up, if nothing else. Then it was out for lunch: we found a place selling bife de chorizo, keen to repeat the fantastic experience in Mendoza. It was quite a bit pricier, but we now realised what a good deal we had got before. Joanne went for a slightly cheaper bife de costilla which is a T-bone steak, but they were both fairly awful. What a let-down and what a bad start to Buenos Aires. The day was a write-off. But it was raining anyway, and we couldn't face being out in it any longer. We would have to miss the famous antiques market which is only on Sundays. We had already noticed a propensity for Argentinians, particularly, but not just, the men, to barge right into us when walking down the street. They appear to make no effort whatever to do their share of getting out of the way, and I swear that some of them were actually going out of their way to barge us, and it was much more noticeable in Buenos Aires. They give the impression of being too arrogant to change their path at all, but I think with some of them it's just naked aggression. Joanne asked me if that's where the phrase argy-bargy comes from and I started to wonder myself. We had heard that South American machismo is at its zenith in Argentina, but I didn't really expect it to extend to some of the women too.

Old car

This one's for Gav

The one glimmer of hope to rescue our time in Argentina was that what we had seen of this city did look very attractive, although the Argentinian graffiti is at its worst in Buenos Aires. And the Spanish seemed much easier here than Cordoba: everyone sings the language, making it sound really like Italian.

Comfort wine

We ended the day with a consolatory bottle of wine, getting something a bit pricier than we normally would, still looking to make up for the failed wine tour.

written by

The Happy Couple on September 27, 2009 from Buenos Aires, Argentina

from the travel blog: Michael's Round-the-World honeymoon

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