I’ve been here a month, and I’m a tiny bit closer to understanding this crazy-amazing city… so I’ll start with the simplest things.
Dogs: Are everywhere. Everyone has a dog or five. And if they’re not walking their own dog, someone else is walking them in a pack of 10 or more at a time. Seeing someone with 10 canines (all pedigree, all various pedigrees) calmly trotting down the street on 10 leads was exciting the first four or six times, but then you see it 47 times a day and you stop caring.
Food: Is everywhere. And rightly so, because Argentina is famous for meat – barbecued meat – and all things dulce de leche. But jesus – the level of quality varies from Michelin to McDonalds to gruel. And you can pay the same for each. Which makes dining out – and life in general – really f**king confusing if you aren’t ‘in’ with the place, which takes a while. I’ve had at least eight revolting empanadas and maybe three good ones, which I guess is fair, given my tightassedness.
Money: Oh, lord. A nightmare. The exchange range for your debit card is different from the official rate, which is different from the cash rate, which is different from Western Union rate which is different from whichever backstreet vendor you solicit. And each source has their own fees, and you have to calculate the fees against this rate and that rate and the time and stress involved, and F*CK – I was never good at maths, and this has already broken my head and probably lost me a lot of $$.
Parks: Oh, the parks! I’ve never known a city to embrace trees and grass and open spaces so lovingly as Buenos Aires. I can run for at least 20k (perhaps more, I haven’t tried) through these park trails without doubling back. Or tripping over dogs. (Did I mention the dogs here are actually calm, trained, and smart, unlike the spoiled psychotic mutts of Auckland?)
And the air is fresh! For a city of 3.1 million people and 14 million vehicles, the air is amazingly wholesome and non-tar-like.
Traffic: Jesus, don’t step out onto a crossing when the green man lights up, because you’ll die. Wait at least ten seconds, and then be prepared for at least five cars zooming through the red.
Poo: IS EVERYWHERE. Dogs, as I’ve mentioned, are about as numerous as sheep in NZ, and they are taken outdoors to walk and to poo. There is poo every five paces. You cannot return home without poo in the cleats of your shoes, and you cannot run to the gym without getting in the way of at least fifteen shopkeepers hosing and soaping down their shopfronts every morning (because poo). I thought Remuera had poo, but no – BA has poo upon poo.
Chocolate: Omg. Terrible and EXPENSIVE ASF. A tiny block (100g) of crappy Nestle/Argentinian version of Nestle costs around $6, which is as muchA as a 700ml bottle of vodka. Yah, I might be saving on vodka, but I need chocolate more than I need vodka, and Nestle is terrible, and I don’t understand! I thought New Zealand was the home of overpriced chocolate!
Cheese: As above. Also shit, also expensive: $27 a kilogram, which is why it’s sold in tiny slithers stuck to styrofoam and wrapped in plastic. And tastes like gumboot.
Coffee: ALSO as above. A wee cup of cafe-brewed coffee costs around $NZ6. A packet of awful [read: AWWWWWFUL] filter coffee also costs around $6, and it’s on a par with dirt.
People: AMAZING. Everyone is nice, everyone is forgiving of your shit Spanish. Everyone apologises for their shit English, which is something that no non-English-speaking-country-inhabitant should feel they have to do. Everyone wants to help, and everyone wants to know where you’re from. And apparently, I don’t look like a foreigner: I’ve had dozens of interactions with old ladies in the supermarket who want to know where the olive oil is or if I can reach a thing on the higher shelf. Which has worked in my favour, because* I can ask them if the tuna is bueno or if this jelly-like package is for washing clothes or washing dishes.
*wifi mysteriously breaks down inside a supermarket.
Maté: EVERYONE IS DRINKING MATE. Everywhere, every minute of the day, you’ll see people juggling their children, dogs, and their mate gourd. Yerba mate is a tea brewed from a native species of holly tree (Ilex paraguariensis) in South America and it’s a thing. I don’t quite get it: I’ve been drinking mate myself for at least eight years or so back home, and I like it, but I can take it or leave it. But here, it’s an addiction. It’s akin to a takeaway latte in Auckland: everyone needs it, or needs to be seen with it, every day. I’ve seen homeless folk sleeping on street corners with a soft drink bottle cut into a makeshift mug for their mate.
Parrots: Wee green parrots are frickn’ everywhere. Nobody seems to care much.
Parrillas (grill): Okay, I’ve only been to three or four. But holy crap – and I’m sorry Dad – but these guys know how to do their steak. I’ve never been much of a meat eater (and I was a vegetarian for six years) but.. wow. The chorizo. The carne empanadas. The STEAK. Medium rare and thick as your wrist and fairly melts in your mouth. I’ve never eaten steak so rich. I couldn’t eat it every day, but still… my haemoglobin has appreciated my attempts so far.
Airbnbs: I’m in my second now, and – after eight years of Airbnb stays – I’m pretty sure BA Airbnbs are the best value ever. My first ($NZ1160/month) had a patio, a huge (and very comfortable) double bed, a coffee maker, air conditioning, huge fridge, a blender, a TV, various cupboards and drawers, a washing machine, and everything was clean, which is enormously important when you’re as neurotic about other people’s bodily fluids as I am. And it was super close to lots of excellent bars, which I may have visited once or twice.
Fernet: I had never heard of fernet before I came to Argentina, and I am in love. It’s a bitter aromatic spirit, made in Italy, but somehow an Argentinian beverage when mixed with Coke. I don’t drink Coke (hiss) but the stuff is pretty good on its own or with soda water. Herbs, sugar, booze – what’s not to like?
Obvs I’ve a lot to learn. I’ve been told it takes at least a year to really understand Buenos Aires, which is a bit longer than I’ve planned to stay. So – the blunders will continue…. and I may have the courage to mention them at some point… 🙄
a woman wanders 