International Obsession with tidbits of Argentinean Pride

Buenos Aires is truly a unique city. First of all, it’s huge, and big cities tend to intimidate me—but in order to stay safe, I was very consistent with taking taxis (although I stressed out when one cab driver told me my peso bills didn’t have the appropriate government stamp on it and I would have to go to a bank to change it—unfortunately those bills were all I had, so he took one and said he’d change it himself—phew).

Before taking taxis though, I felt lunch might be nice and walked down the street where my hotel is. After having walked down 4 blocks, I was offered four different menus from restaurants, I passed a McDonald’s, a Burger King, a Chinese restaurant, and a few McDonald’s wanna-be’s who butchered their own amazing Argentinean food to make it look like (and I’m sure taste like) the greasy concoctions created in America. I ended up in a Parisian café, which appeared to have the most Spanish like cuisine in all the places I’d passed (who woulda thunk). However, the Paris/American influence did come forth when I ordered a sandwich with Spanish ham, and received a double-decker ham sandwich on white bread with a huge plate of fries. I guess they are a little more generous in their servings here…

My first stop was the bus station. My goal was to buy my bus ticket to Salta for tomorrow, but all I had was a reservation number and my passport—I had no idea what the name of the bus company was. This presented itself as a problem, and I wandered around asking stupid questions in mediocre Spanish, such as “I don’t know what bus company I’m using, this is my reservation number, where do I go?” Third time was a charm, and I finally tracked down the correct company and now successfully have my ticket for tomorrow!

The final stop was La Recoleta. Named after the Recoleto monks who settled in this area in the 18th century, it was first a cemetery (and still is), but now also includes fancy stores, restaurants, museums, and la feria artisanal (craft fair) held every Sunday. Since today happened to be Sunday, I thought I’d stop by. It was an endless circle of little huts set up by artists selling tons of jewelry and leather, among other things (although I have heard leather here is very good quality and cheap).

One quick sidenote, tomorrow is a holiday called El Dia de la Bandera, celebrating the creator of the Argentinean flag (I can’t recall his name, but I think he’s French). Jorge told me that the holiday date is actually the 20th, but just like the Spaniards, South Americans do everything they can to get out of work, so they moved it to this Monday so they could have a long weekend. No wonder most people outside the U.S. hate the U.S. Not only do we have a poor reputation of being obese, obnoxious and inconsiderate, we also live by the mantra “we live to work” instead of “we work to live.” I wonder which one I follow more often.