Comida y Musica
Since arriving in Buenos Aires, I've been constantly distracted, which is great, but it has left me overwhelmed with topics to post about. Do I start talking about the Mothers of the Disappeared who still march in protest, demanding the return of the bodies of their loved one who were murdered thirty years ago during the country's the brutal dictatorship? Or about the Tango show I saw in the plaza of Sal Telma, the colonial center of Buenos Aires? No, today I'll try to give a quick overview of what I've been occupying myself doing here in Argentina's capital and completely ignore all the touristy, traditional Buenos Aires sights (mostly).
I arrived in BA to find the subway workers on strike. The short two subway stop trip to my hostel quickly became a 45 minute walk with my giant pack weighing me down. Fortunately, I'm weathered veteran used to lugging around my bag.
But, already frustrated with a long bus ride sitting next to a family with two squirming little kids, the Brazilian embassy informed me of the growing hassle obtaining a visa has become. (Does anyone have any advice at all on this front?)
My second day here, I decided to splurge ($6 USD) and go to a "Parilla Libre," a famous all you can eat buffet including fulla ccess to the grill, sushi bar and pig roast. My first plate overflowed with steak sirloin, ribs, pork, sausage, and BBQ chicken wings. Plate two consisted of seafood such as paella, clams, grilled sea bass, and made to order sushi. By the third plate, my stuffed stomach was already angry at me, so I decided to go healthy with a light serving of salad and candied bananas.
On the topic of food, I keep forgetting to mention, but glad that I'm finally remembering to include a post about it, the hot dog obsession here in Argentina. Called Panchos (and as anyone from Ann Arbor knows, I love any excuse to go anywhere for food named "Panch"), hot dogs here actually outdo American dogs. Stands all around every Argentine city has fully loaded footlongs for five pesos. When I mean fully loaded, try to picture an ice cream store with all the Baskin Robins varieties laid out in front of your eyes. Here, 30 sauces line the counter. With four of your favorite condiments (like guacamole, pico de gallo, or other brightly colored sauces that I never recognize but always seem to try), the servers then dump a handful of shredded french fried onto of the dog. Despite the mess, these dogs are delicious and perfect food for the late night walks back to the hostel from the discotecs.
In addition to hot dog vendors, Porteño streets attract huge amounts of bands. The street preforming favorite here appears to be some sort of reggae, jazz, blues fusion. Basically, most bands on the corner have dread-locked hair and sport Bob Marley t-shirts. The bass players keep very steady, simple Jamaican beats, while a rhythm guitar hits the perfect Caribbean upstrokes on the off beats. The drummer outfits himself with a snare, a symbol, and then a plastic bucket for the kick-bass drum. But the horn section always complements the reggae feel. Without vocalists preaching protest lyrics, saxophones, trumpets, or trombones play lead, by wailing away like jazz soloists. The past few days, I've spent hours blending into crowds musing over these talented reggae/fusion street groups.
I also wandered over to Recoleta Cemetery to see Eva Peron's grave. I've never seen anything like this cemetery. Housing the bodies of Buenos Aires' elite, such as dead presidents, war generals, and wealthy public figures, Recoleta Cemetery feels like a small city of tombs. Land within the cemetery walls is the most expensive real estate per square foot in Buenos Aires. Cobblestone streets with road sings lead visitors past what resemble single story, individual family churches. No luxury in death is spared, nor are any standard cathedral stone carving intricacies nor stained glass masterpieces. The cemetery definitely fits in line with Argetines' very proud appearances.
It's also strange being in such an amazing city that seeing Picaso, Van Gough, Monet, Jackson Pollock, and Xul Solar, seem like an average day.
There's so much to do in this giant city that one week is already feeling short.
I arrived in BA to find the subway workers on strike. The short two subway stop trip to my hostel quickly became a 45 minute walk with my giant pack weighing me down. Fortunately, I'm weathered veteran used to lugging around my bag.
But, already frustrated with a long bus ride sitting next to a family with two squirming little kids, the Brazilian embassy informed me of the growing hassle obtaining a visa has become. (Does anyone have any advice at all on this front?)
My second day here, I decided to splurge ($6 USD) and go to a "Parilla Libre," a famous all you can eat buffet including fulla ccess to the grill, sushi bar and pig roast. My first plate overflowed with steak sirloin, ribs, pork, sausage, and BBQ chicken wings. Plate two consisted of seafood such as paella, clams, grilled sea bass, and made to order sushi. By the third plate, my stuffed stomach was already angry at me, so I decided to go healthy with a light serving of salad and candied bananas.
On the topic of food, I keep forgetting to mention, but glad that I'm finally remembering to include a post about it, the hot dog obsession here in Argentina. Called Panchos (and as anyone from Ann Arbor knows, I love any excuse to go anywhere for food named "Panch"), hot dogs here actually outdo American dogs. Stands all around every Argentine city has fully loaded footlongs for five pesos. When I mean fully loaded, try to picture an ice cream store with all the Baskin Robins varieties laid out in front of your eyes. Here, 30 sauces line the counter. With four of your favorite condiments (like guacamole, pico de gallo, or other brightly colored sauces that I never recognize but always seem to try), the servers then dump a handful of shredded french fried onto of the dog. Despite the mess, these dogs are delicious and perfect food for the late night walks back to the hostel from the discotecs.
In addition to hot dog vendors, Porteño streets attract huge amounts of bands. The street preforming favorite here appears to be some sort of reggae, jazz, blues fusion. Basically, most bands on the corner have dread-locked hair and sport Bob Marley t-shirts. The bass players keep very steady, simple Jamaican beats, while a rhythm guitar hits the perfect Caribbean upstrokes on the off beats. The drummer outfits himself with a snare, a symbol, and then a plastic bucket for the kick-bass drum. But the horn section always complements the reggae feel. Without vocalists preaching protest lyrics, saxophones, trumpets, or trombones play lead, by wailing away like jazz soloists. The past few days, I've spent hours blending into crowds musing over these talented reggae/fusion street groups.
I also wandered over to Recoleta Cemetery to see Eva Peron's grave. I've never seen anything like this cemetery. Housing the bodies of Buenos Aires' elite, such as dead presidents, war generals, and wealthy public figures, Recoleta Cemetery feels like a small city of tombs. Land within the cemetery walls is the most expensive real estate per square foot in Buenos Aires. Cobblestone streets with road sings lead visitors past what resemble single story, individual family churches. No luxury in death is spared, nor are any standard cathedral stone carving intricacies nor stained glass masterpieces. The cemetery definitely fits in line with Argetines' very proud appearances.
It's also strange being in such an amazing city that seeing Picaso, Van Gough, Monet, Jackson Pollock, and Xul Solar, seem like an average day.
There's so much to do in this giant city that one week is already feeling short.
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