our first night in BA

First Night Dinner in Buenos Aires.

Most locals--portenos--don't go out for dinner until at least 10 or 11pm (on the early side). We were starving by 8pm, but held out with the help of some vino, a baguette and the most delicious, soft & creamy, white cheese at our apartment.

Seth, Jacques, Jerry, Chris and I went to La Cabrera Grillado & Bar in the neigborhood of palermo. It was a foodie's delight!

While waiting for our table the hostess had ice cold buckets filled with bottles of complimentary champagne, this made the wait for our table part of a wonderful experience instead of an annoying delay.

Vino tinto--red wine--at about $3-$5 a bottle flows like water in buenos aires. And the red meat is just as inexpensive and plentiful. We had three servings each cooked to varying degrees: medium, medium rare and "blue", which was so bloody it practically jumped of the plate and "moooo-ed" at us. It reminded me more of sushi than steak. The side dishes they brought to our table next were manna from heaven, served in small white ramikins, favorites were the roasted garlic, squash, olive tapanade, and a to-die-for apple sauce. By the time we finished it was close to midnight, and as we made our way out of the restaurant a crowd of beautifully hip portenos were sipping red wine and toasting champagne flutes, their evenings just beginning!

Let Go and Feel...

We landed in Buenos Aires around 9am on a Friday, grabbed a taxi and headed to our rental home in Recoleta.

I learned quickly that taxi drivers anticipate some bad American behavior, like slamming the car doors shut like they would some big American SUV. Unfortunately, I didn't disappoint. No sooner was I heaving my door shut did the driver get out, "please don't....." Too late, SLAM! At this point, I looked over apologetically, and thought to myself i just become THAT American. That American tourist. In reality I'd probably already done a few things that gave me away. I eagerly exchanged my Dollars for Pesos at the first place I saw after clearing customs.

So we are staying in recoleta, a typical "french architecture-style" district known for its squares, parks, cafés, galleries and the cementerio de la recoleta (recoleta cemetery), one of argentina's most famous cemeteries. it's the cemetary where eva "evita" perone is buried and it's supposed to be a pretty incredible place to visit.

As we headed into Buenos Aires a feeling of culture shock began to take me over. I felt so completely out of place; I was un-tethered to anything familar and hadn't thought or known to prepare myself for what I was experiencing. I was immediately disturbed by the state of the housing and office buildings that lined the highway as we drove from the airport closer to the city center and Recoleta. The whole area, mile after mile, looked like what I imagined a war zone to look like from watching too much television news.

There was no sign of life, buildings seemed to be crumbling from years of neglect, and a thick coat of smog-like grim covered everything. It was especially eery to see such densley developed parts of a city so void of life.

I began to think of the book, The Death and Life of American Cities, by Jane Jacobs. In the book, Jacobs says "...the more common outcome in cities, where people are faced with the choice of sharing much or nothing, is nothing. In city areas that lack a natural and casual public life, it is common for residents to isolate themselves from each other to a fantastic degree." Maybe this is what I was experiencing, or maybe it was just the middle of the day, whatever it was, it was not the Buenos Aires I envisioned.

I soon learned that what I had assumed were housing projects we were driving by where in actuality middle class neighborhoods, inhabitated by doctors, teachers, etc. I was shocked. Is this what middle class looked like outside of the United States? If this is true, I now understood why we (americans) are viewed as spoiled by the rest of the world.

My friend Jacques, who probably sensed my discomfort (okay, maybe i was complaining about something), told me to "just forget about what life is like in the united states, let go of your expectations and try to feel what life is like in argentina". Wise advice from a world traveler, because once I let go I was able to really enjoy and experience Buenos Aires, and I would eventually fall in love with her.