Capital Federal 2..

December 20, 2010

There are two possible ways of getting out of Buenos Aires, they are, ride out, or, take a bus or train to a location outside. A few weeks ago because of this I was reading David Holmes journal, where a train to the nearby city of La Plata was his way out of the city and thought from then to today that would perhaps be my best option. Today however out of interest I was reading Malena Stiteler's journal and of a sudden became inspired at the idea of riding out of the city, after all I've rode both in and out of Cordoba, Mendoza and Santa Fe so this cannot be much worse.

The traffic and whether there is or isn't a paved shoulder is something I'll find out when I ride and ride accordingly. It's miserable I know but if I remain alert I will ride out of the way of passing trucks even if that means riding on the road's rough margin. It isn't quite as heart in your mouth as being approached by youth demanding money of you like what happen to me on the ride into Santa Fe. Luckily, on that occasion, I could ride away fast. So does the road I plan to ride pass through a rough area of the city is my main concern.

In Malena Stiteler's journal, she rides out of the city via Avenida Rivadavia and describes it as following a railway line and not passing through any areas where she felt unsafe, going on to say she left the city behind after 30km. Her destination for that first day was Lujan which she describes as a cool city. And it's only 65km, well maybe a bit more as I'll be riding from the city-centre, but nevertheless it should all be in a day's work.

The widest street in the world, Avenida 9 de Julio, on a Sunday afternoon. The cloud cover today means it isn't as warm as a few days ago.

One of the city's best Known landmarks, The Obelisk, marks the spot where the celestral blue and while national flag was raised for the first time.

A group of us from the hostel spent Saturday evening at a street festival in Avenue Corrientes. The thoroughfare which is normally chocker block with traffic had a stage build on it that afternoon and when we arrived a welknown Argentine indie rock-band were playing to an admiring audience that filled the street. On a big screen onstage behind the band, an artist drew pictures on a paper pad the pad filling the screen and his forearm and hand with marker pen all that was visible of him. The song Chaos was just beginning as he started a new leave drawing matchstick men in a line progressing down the page until the electric guitar wept into a lengthy fade out solo and the leave with matchstick figures spun around on the big screen as the guitar wept through to the songs last roll out on the drums and sustained strikes on the guitar then final damping strike to load claps and applause.

They were an exciting band to listen to apart from watching the artist draw on the big screen. A couple of numbers later they played a song called, Hindu girl, about a guy in love with an Indian girl. The melody had a very Indian feel to it and again when the electric guitar solo came it sounded just like a sitar. And then, he put down the guitar and picked up a charango* for the next song picking his way melodically into the opening bars of, Hotel California. The singer made it funny changing the chorus to, Hotel Panimonia, to laughter from the audience and eventually Hotel Patagonia to more laughter.

Other things going on in the street away from the stage area included lots of people sitting on big plush white sofas, don't ask me why but it seemed as if it was a type of reclaim the streets for people thing. And there were lots of tables where people sat playing scrabble. There there was a big banner, La associacion de Scrabble Argentina. I bet though they pronounce that es-crab-bel.

The architecture in Buenos Aires is typical late nineteen century European like this terrace which is identical to what you find in Olso where I lived.

The last picture and this one shows La Boca on a Sunday.

On previous visits to Buenos Aires, I've always enjoyed Sunday. It is when most of the traffic goes away and the streets around the centre are near empty, while in San Telmo and La Boca the streets are heaving with people. San Telmo is if you like the city's old town. It was here during the Napoleonic wars that English soldiers had pails of hot water poured on them from upstairs windows by the citizenry repelling an invasion. The street, Defencia, commemorates that and today is the scene of a crowded Sunday flee-market.

Crossing the big street to get to Defencia and San Telmo on a Sunday.

Many people in Argentina are Artisans making all sorts of things to sell in Flee-markets like here in San Telmo.

My walking companion today was Robert that made it from Colonia via Carmelo and Tigue. We stopped and mused at an English language book stall were he points at a rare book published in 1932 telling me the author was the first woman to receive a Pulitzer prize. "Do you know" said an Englishman to the stallholder, "Argentina in 1900 was amongst the most advanced countries in the world. And would've become the riches country in the world if it had not been for America that became the world's breadbasket".

"There's a man that knows his history" I say to Robert as we walk on. "What. I didn't hear him". Robert is a little deaf. He then broke into laughter when I told him of someone from his country (the US) saying Buenos Aires has allot of old colonial buildings "Are you kidding. That building there was build around 1900", as he pointed up at a big public building representative of most of the city's older edifices

We planned on going to La Boca for a while and I suggested catching a bus. "Man it aint too far to walk" goes Robert. "What you scared of little punks". "Yes" I reply. "Look, they ain't going to bother two fit young men. Their going to pick a little old lady. Muggers only pick soft targets", he assured me. We took the bus anyway and when he saw how far it was, we agreed that it was best as it was too far to walk even if it was save.

La Boca is the area where Tango was born amongst Italian immigrants at the turn of the twentieth century. It is now a tourist attraction and you cannot walk along the street without being hustled, "show show, Tango show". And there's the Maradona look-alike that makes his money by posing for photos, but yesterday there wasn't many football fans and so trade was slack.

Back in San Telmo, Robert returned to his hostel and I remained as I wanted to take more photos. There are many cafes but the prices are too steep so I go to the indoor market and buy fruit and later have empanadas at a market cafe. Lots of other tourists were doing the same, as one Austrilian man peeling an apple with his pen-knife put it "inflation, this country gets bloody dearer all the time".

While I ate my empanadas, sat on the stool next me a stout red faced elderly man with silver hair and blue eyes adresses me in German while he sipped on his wine. "Quien idioma hables?" he asks when I protest not understanding German, "ingles?". "Si" I comfirm. He then lanced into a long speach in Spanish on why Argentina is the best country in the world, before finishing his glass and bidding me well as he left.

*A Charango is a small bodied giutar with 10 strings.

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