buenos Aires 2012

Buenos Aires was built to resemble an elegant European city: large avenues, spacious parks and majestic buildings punctuate the landscape. La Playa de Mayor, a large central city square, spreads behind la Casa Rosada, the president’s mansion; today it is amply decorated with protest placards and large print graffiti and is surrounded by majestic buildings and a cathedral. La Boca is one of the older neighborhoods, located at the mouth of Rio de Plata; it was originally populated by Italian immigrants. The small houses of corrugated tin are brightly colored and preserve an atmosphere of quaint shoddiness. Its center of tourism is Caminito, a tiny tangle of small streets lined with open air cafes where young Portenos entertain the visitors with music and tango demonstrations.

The graceful Puente de la Mujer connects the mainland with Puerto Madero, the old harbor. It has been completely gentrified, the river walk now flanked with chic restaurants and crowded with young people kissing and families strolling. On Sundays, Plaza Dorrego, in the neighborhood of San Telmo, becomes a colorful and noisy antique market. Under white canvas tents, the locals and the tourists peruse displays of old seltzer bottles, gaucho gear, linens and all manner of collectibles. The parade of street vendors stretches down Defensa and Florida streets. We were enticed by a bola, with three wooden balls, attached to leather braids of rope, that gauchos used to herd cattle.

Other noteworthy stops:

The Teatro Colon, a palatial structure built in the early 1900s with all European materials and artisans in the grand style of continental opera houses, currently under extensive renovation but still hosting art events. The interior seven stories are lavishly gilded and decorated with large tableaus, statues, red velvet seats and stained glass.

The Recoleta Cemetary holds elaborate mausoleums, above ground shrines for the important Porteno families; it dates from the early 1800s and is still accepting new arrivals. In contrast to most well manicured tombs, there are signs of neglect and decay when the families cannot spend the resources to maintain the sites. Evita Peron, nee Duarte, lies in her family plot. Gigantic rubber trees tower over the park outside the cemetery, their overlapping roots like man-high tentacles and their tall canopies shading La Biela, another landmark café with a popular outdoor patio, where people come to watch and be seen.

We opted not to go to a glitzy tango show, but rather La Ideal, one of several dance halls where Portenos gather after work for the milonga, a ritualized tango exercise; some dancers come in pairs, others alone to pick a partner from those who also came without a partner. Unlike the staged tango performances, we found the milonga more evocative and authentic. Clearly, the tango remains organically woven into the fabric of the people.

The Café Tortoni, the oldest in the city is situated just off the Playa de Mayor and draws tourists by the busload. It evokes an atmosphere of old Vienna with stained glass ceilings and walls covered with autographed photographs of the rich and famous. We stepped in for coffee and to cool off and soak the scene after a long afternoon walk in the city.

Buenos Aires appears a prosperous city. The streets are clean (except for some unexpected sightings of loose pavement and garbage), the cars are new and well maintained, and the people are well dressed with a sprint on their step. We were surprised to see almost no black of Indian people on the streets, despite the reality than not that long ago both lived and worked in the European immigrants’ homes and plantations. No one could quite explain where they went.

We joined a tour to the Estancia de Santa Suzanna, an Argentinean dude ranch, once a working farm, now a tourist destination where we strolled through the old owners’ home quarters, we sampled hearth roasted beef, and we saw a demonstration of traditional dances and of horsemanship. The road travelled to the Estancia was as interesting as the ranch itself; we drove into the countryside for a little over an hour passing by manufacturing plants, local businesses, and small towns.

Beef reigns in the Buenos Aires food scene; skewered on huge spits next to piles of smoldering wood fires they fill the air with the aroma of burning suet and robust red meat. After drinks at the café Juanito, a tiny funky bar, we tasted the most delicious steaks and grilled molejas at La Cabrera, a small, dimly lit restaurant in the neighborhood of Palermo. Even when we attempted to vary the cuisine in seafood or Italian restaurants, we seemed to always return to at least one serving of beef. Alas, the renowned Las Cabana des Lilas in Puerto Madere disappointed.