Tyr
05-25-2010, 11:17 PM
Part 1: Don’t Cry for me Argentina
Hooray, so yeah I thought I’d finally get around to writing a trip write-up before I forget it all. I’ll try to skip over the boring bits and make shit up if it gets too dull.
So I flew in to Buenos Aires at about 4pm on the 19th of February. I was expecting my good friend Nick to be waiting for me as a good friend would wait for someone who’d just flown in on an eleven hour flight to meet up with them after they’ve been travelling around South America for three months or so. No such luck, it seemed that, tired, jetlagged, I was on my own to try to find my way to a hostel called “Milhouse” in the middle of Buenos Aires. Well not so, you see because my other friend, Alan, was supposed to be flying in from Toronto, (decided to live there for a year with his girlfriend,) and was meant to arrive about twenty minutes after I did. No such luck. The pilot on Air Canada was obviously a complete pussy because he decided that with the weather the way it was he was going to stop over in Montevideo for several hours, (of course no-one at BA International Airport knew exactly how long they’d be.) I was in the shit, I couldn’t wait because I didn’t know for how long plus I didn’t have a reservation at Milhouse and couldn’t really rely on Nick to get me one, plus I couldn’t call ahead because I had no change, didn’t know enough Spanish to get help and my cellphone’s global roaming service hadn’t kicked in yet.
So fuck it, I decided to get a cab from outside the airport, see if they knew where this Milhouse place was. Alan’s a smart bloke so I figured he’d be fine on his own. Got a taxi which took me through several colourful spots in Buenos Aires on an hour and a half taxi ride. I could understand the detours as it was raining and flooded everywhere although when he drove up on the median strip for about a kilometre I began to have a few concerns, especially while watching the meter go up and up and up…
It eventually hit over 300 pesos, i.e. all the pesos I had on me. I still had $150 US though so I wasn’t too concerned, surely he’d let me pay with a combination. Finally got to an intersection which the taxi driver decided was close enough to Milhouse. Fare was 360 pesos. I handed over three hundred, asking if I could square the fare with one of my US $50s. He seemed reluctant, handing back my Pesos. I gave over my $150 US, (about 450 pesos,) and he and who I assumed to be his son hurried me out of the cab while I was spluttering “but, but, hey, no, wait, but…”. The cab sped off, leaving me on a random street corner in Buenos Aires yelling “HOW DO YOU SAY ‘CHANGE’ IN SPANISH!!?”
(“Cambio” by the way.)
Milhouse didn’t make itself very obvious, I walked around the block in the pouring rain with a backpack with a New Zealand flag on it that said “Hey, rob and kill me, I’m a tourist. No-one will know where I am for months!” Eventually found it on my third walk-past, (not wanting to hang around I just kept walking in a circle trying to look like I knew where I was going.) Got inside and found Nick. I was expecting a grand reunion, “Oh how are you? Come in, you’re room’s ready, let’s go drink.” Instead I got Nick, in a panic, demanding to know why I was late, where Alan was, what plans I had made for accommodation because he sure as Hell hadn’t done anything… yeah, great to see you too Nick. Milhouse was full and I couldn’t get a room. Luckily two Israeli girls had decided that day to cancel their reservation and move to another hostel. They were trying to sell their reservation so I obliged one of them. Relieved, I tried to pay for the first night with one of my hundred peso notes.
“This one’s fake”.
What? Fucking Hell and I got these from Auckland airport too, fucking Travelex! Oh well I had another couple.
Turns out I didn’t. My other two hundreds had spontaneously morphed into two peso notes. How strange. Then I realised. That fucking taxi driver! When I had tried to pay with Pesos he’d fucking switched them! FUCK!
Milhouse was cool, they said don’t worry about it but I still had to pay one of the Israeli girls. I said I’d go find an ATM. After a ten minute excursion I didn’t find anything and had to return to the hostel to ask for help. The two girls, who turned out to be sisters, came with me sympathising with my plight and giving a few tips to the Kiwi who obviously was not going to last a month and a half, let alone a week.
With everything paid and a bed ready for me all I could really do was wait for Alan. We had no idea where he was or what we could do about it. Thankfully at midnight I saw this tall lanky guy trying to check in, (Alan had wisely not relied on Nick and booked ahead from Canada.) So fuck it, we had all arrived and I could get some sleep while muttering darkly about all Buenos Aires taxi drivers.
The next few days passed without incident or anything happening at all really. I just slept, ate and drank “Quilmes”, the local cheep beer which comes in 690ml bottles for like, ten pesos. Went out to see a couple of things that were close by the hostel including the congressional building a presidential palace. Nice, but I was still feeling bitter about BA and still don’t think it deserves its “Paris of the southern hemisphere” label.
http://i49.photobucket.com/albums/f266/Tyferra/South%20America%20Travels%202010/BA1.png
Eventually Alan decided he wanted to actually see some of Buenos Aires so he booked us up for a trip of La Boca, the working class area of BA. I was game so we went and it was pretty neat actually. We passed an incredibly polluted river that has been known to have human heads float leisurely down it. La Boca was very colourful, caused by the fact that people would go down to the shipyard at night and nick any paint that was left behind to paint their houses with. Of course it realises its own charm to tourists so there’s people trying to get you to come into their restaurants and enjoy their tango shows etc. I wasn’t interested. It was this point that Nick saw a street painting he rather liked. Insignificant maybe, but this painting would become a headache for the rest of the trip as we’d end up babysitting the fucking thing and reassuring Nick that no-one would think to steal a street painting from him. He paid about $60 US for it which is a complete rip-off but I wasn’t willing to tell him this.
http://i49.photobucket.com/albums/f266/Tyferra/South%20America%20Travels%202010/BA2.png
We went to lunch at this wonderful outdoor BBQ with fantastic steaks. Alan and I, wanting to try the fabled Argentinean steak, went for the most expensive steak on the menu while Nick, fully grasping every opportunity, opted for a rice salad. He regretted it when our steak’s arrived – fucking fantastic, probably the best meal of the whole trip. Sucks to be Nick.
From the colourful streets checked out the Boca Juniors stadium, significant because it’s Maradona’s old club. Exciting to anyone who cares about football maybe. I was bored. Had some pretty gaudy trophies in the museum though and Boca Jrs.-branded everything, including cigars which I was tempted to buy.
We decided the next day to go on another tour, this time to Recoleta, the rich district of BA. Nick, for some reason, convinced himself that the small ache in his gums that he noticed the previous day was a fairly uncommon gum disease called Periodontitis so decided that instead of going on the tour he wanted to see a dentist. As you do when you’re overseas.
(Turns out the pain was caused by a small cut in his gum that had become slightly infected, the cut being caused by chomping through kettle chips at speed.)
Completely different world Recoleta, there is a lot of money there. Grand old buildings, churches, monuments, manicured lawns. Went to an art museum, saw part of the University, went into a church… very cultured. My main purpose of being there was to see the fantastic Recoleta cemetery. I wasn’t disappointed, never seen a graveyard like it. Massive streets of mausoleums and monuments; some very modern, some old and dilapidated, some… completely random. Unfortunately I was taken ill, maybe something I had at lunch the previous day, (my theory was that it was the lemonade I had which was probably made with tap water – probably poetic justice for stealing it from Alan.) We met up with the tour guide who started telling us about Evitia, (Eva Peron,) who is “buried” in the Recoleta cemetery. I drifted in and out, massive headaches, stomach aches. I broke out in sweat and almost passed out but thankfully kept my wits about me enough to sit down instead of make a scene. Once it was time to move off to see Evita my legs managed to hold me.
http://i49.photobucket.com/albums/f266/Tyferra/South%20America%20Travels%202010/BA3.png
Our final walk around took us to a few monuments including Evita’s, took us past Shakira’s Buenos Aires apartment of all things and finally to the massive shiny flower that was gifted to the city from some artist who wanted to people to pay attention to him. I guess it’s a shame that the flower is more awesome than he ever was so his name escapes me.
http://i49.photobucket.com/albums/f266/Tyferra/South%20America%20Travels%202010/BA43.png
So after five days in Buenos Aires we left for Puerto Iguazu to see the Iguazu Falls, this being the main point of me arriving two weeks earlier than my other mates who were joining us later. My final thought of Buenos Aires at that time… a lot of potential, but not exactly friendly to tourists. A shame because it could be a real highlight on any person’s travels if this wasn’t the case. I found that, at least in the area I was, no-one trusted anyone and because of this no-one smiled or was very nice to anyone else. This turned out to be quite handy because as soon as someone was nice you knew they were trying to rip you off somehow.
Hooray, so yeah I thought I’d finally get around to writing a trip write-up before I forget it all. I’ll try to skip over the boring bits and make shit up if it gets too dull.
So I flew in to Buenos Aires at about 4pm on the 19th of February. I was expecting my good friend Nick to be waiting for me as a good friend would wait for someone who’d just flown in on an eleven hour flight to meet up with them after they’ve been travelling around South America for three months or so. No such luck, it seemed that, tired, jetlagged, I was on my own to try to find my way to a hostel called “Milhouse” in the middle of Buenos Aires. Well not so, you see because my other friend, Alan, was supposed to be flying in from Toronto, (decided to live there for a year with his girlfriend,) and was meant to arrive about twenty minutes after I did. No such luck. The pilot on Air Canada was obviously a complete pussy because he decided that with the weather the way it was he was going to stop over in Montevideo for several hours, (of course no-one at BA International Airport knew exactly how long they’d be.) I was in the shit, I couldn’t wait because I didn’t know for how long plus I didn’t have a reservation at Milhouse and couldn’t really rely on Nick to get me one, plus I couldn’t call ahead because I had no change, didn’t know enough Spanish to get help and my cellphone’s global roaming service hadn’t kicked in yet.
So fuck it, I decided to get a cab from outside the airport, see if they knew where this Milhouse place was. Alan’s a smart bloke so I figured he’d be fine on his own. Got a taxi which took me through several colourful spots in Buenos Aires on an hour and a half taxi ride. I could understand the detours as it was raining and flooded everywhere although when he drove up on the median strip for about a kilometre I began to have a few concerns, especially while watching the meter go up and up and up…
It eventually hit over 300 pesos, i.e. all the pesos I had on me. I still had $150 US though so I wasn’t too concerned, surely he’d let me pay with a combination. Finally got to an intersection which the taxi driver decided was close enough to Milhouse. Fare was 360 pesos. I handed over three hundred, asking if I could square the fare with one of my US $50s. He seemed reluctant, handing back my Pesos. I gave over my $150 US, (about 450 pesos,) and he and who I assumed to be his son hurried me out of the cab while I was spluttering “but, but, hey, no, wait, but…”. The cab sped off, leaving me on a random street corner in Buenos Aires yelling “HOW DO YOU SAY ‘CHANGE’ IN SPANISH!!?”
(“Cambio” by the way.)
Milhouse didn’t make itself very obvious, I walked around the block in the pouring rain with a backpack with a New Zealand flag on it that said “Hey, rob and kill me, I’m a tourist. No-one will know where I am for months!” Eventually found it on my third walk-past, (not wanting to hang around I just kept walking in a circle trying to look like I knew where I was going.) Got inside and found Nick. I was expecting a grand reunion, “Oh how are you? Come in, you’re room’s ready, let’s go drink.” Instead I got Nick, in a panic, demanding to know why I was late, where Alan was, what plans I had made for accommodation because he sure as Hell hadn’t done anything… yeah, great to see you too Nick. Milhouse was full and I couldn’t get a room. Luckily two Israeli girls had decided that day to cancel their reservation and move to another hostel. They were trying to sell their reservation so I obliged one of them. Relieved, I tried to pay for the first night with one of my hundred peso notes.
“This one’s fake”.
What? Fucking Hell and I got these from Auckland airport too, fucking Travelex! Oh well I had another couple.
Turns out I didn’t. My other two hundreds had spontaneously morphed into two peso notes. How strange. Then I realised. That fucking taxi driver! When I had tried to pay with Pesos he’d fucking switched them! FUCK!
Milhouse was cool, they said don’t worry about it but I still had to pay one of the Israeli girls. I said I’d go find an ATM. After a ten minute excursion I didn’t find anything and had to return to the hostel to ask for help. The two girls, who turned out to be sisters, came with me sympathising with my plight and giving a few tips to the Kiwi who obviously was not going to last a month and a half, let alone a week.
With everything paid and a bed ready for me all I could really do was wait for Alan. We had no idea where he was or what we could do about it. Thankfully at midnight I saw this tall lanky guy trying to check in, (Alan had wisely not relied on Nick and booked ahead from Canada.) So fuck it, we had all arrived and I could get some sleep while muttering darkly about all Buenos Aires taxi drivers.
The next few days passed without incident or anything happening at all really. I just slept, ate and drank “Quilmes”, the local cheep beer which comes in 690ml bottles for like, ten pesos. Went out to see a couple of things that were close by the hostel including the congressional building a presidential palace. Nice, but I was still feeling bitter about BA and still don’t think it deserves its “Paris of the southern hemisphere” label.
http://i49.photobucket.com/albums/f266/Tyferra/South%20America%20Travels%202010/BA1.png
Eventually Alan decided he wanted to actually see some of Buenos Aires so he booked us up for a trip of La Boca, the working class area of BA. I was game so we went and it was pretty neat actually. We passed an incredibly polluted river that has been known to have human heads float leisurely down it. La Boca was very colourful, caused by the fact that people would go down to the shipyard at night and nick any paint that was left behind to paint their houses with. Of course it realises its own charm to tourists so there’s people trying to get you to come into their restaurants and enjoy their tango shows etc. I wasn’t interested. It was this point that Nick saw a street painting he rather liked. Insignificant maybe, but this painting would become a headache for the rest of the trip as we’d end up babysitting the fucking thing and reassuring Nick that no-one would think to steal a street painting from him. He paid about $60 US for it which is a complete rip-off but I wasn’t willing to tell him this.
http://i49.photobucket.com/albums/f266/Tyferra/South%20America%20Travels%202010/BA2.png
We went to lunch at this wonderful outdoor BBQ with fantastic steaks. Alan and I, wanting to try the fabled Argentinean steak, went for the most expensive steak on the menu while Nick, fully grasping every opportunity, opted for a rice salad. He regretted it when our steak’s arrived – fucking fantastic, probably the best meal of the whole trip. Sucks to be Nick.
From the colourful streets checked out the Boca Juniors stadium, significant because it’s Maradona’s old club. Exciting to anyone who cares about football maybe. I was bored. Had some pretty gaudy trophies in the museum though and Boca Jrs.-branded everything, including cigars which I was tempted to buy.
We decided the next day to go on another tour, this time to Recoleta, the rich district of BA. Nick, for some reason, convinced himself that the small ache in his gums that he noticed the previous day was a fairly uncommon gum disease called Periodontitis so decided that instead of going on the tour he wanted to see a dentist. As you do when you’re overseas.
(Turns out the pain was caused by a small cut in his gum that had become slightly infected, the cut being caused by chomping through kettle chips at speed.)
Completely different world Recoleta, there is a lot of money there. Grand old buildings, churches, monuments, manicured lawns. Went to an art museum, saw part of the University, went into a church… very cultured. My main purpose of being there was to see the fantastic Recoleta cemetery. I wasn’t disappointed, never seen a graveyard like it. Massive streets of mausoleums and monuments; some very modern, some old and dilapidated, some… completely random. Unfortunately I was taken ill, maybe something I had at lunch the previous day, (my theory was that it was the lemonade I had which was probably made with tap water – probably poetic justice for stealing it from Alan.) We met up with the tour guide who started telling us about Evitia, (Eva Peron,) who is “buried” in the Recoleta cemetery. I drifted in and out, massive headaches, stomach aches. I broke out in sweat and almost passed out but thankfully kept my wits about me enough to sit down instead of make a scene. Once it was time to move off to see Evita my legs managed to hold me.
http://i49.photobucket.com/albums/f266/Tyferra/South%20America%20Travels%202010/BA3.png
Our final walk around took us to a few monuments including Evita’s, took us past Shakira’s Buenos Aires apartment of all things and finally to the massive shiny flower that was gifted to the city from some artist who wanted to people to pay attention to him. I guess it’s a shame that the flower is more awesome than he ever was so his name escapes me.
http://i49.photobucket.com/albums/f266/Tyferra/South%20America%20Travels%202010/BA43.png
So after five days in Buenos Aires we left for Puerto Iguazu to see the Iguazu Falls, this being the main point of me arriving two weeks earlier than my other mates who were joining us later. My final thought of Buenos Aires at that time… a lot of potential, but not exactly friendly to tourists. A shame because it could be a real highlight on any person’s travels if this wasn’t the case. I found that, at least in the area I was, no-one trusted anyone and because of this no-one smiled or was very nice to anyone else. This turned out to be quite handy because as soon as someone was nice you knew they were trying to rip you off somehow.