Generally, when writing for my blog, I try to avoid long-winded blow-by-blow descriptions of my activities, preferring to focus my posts on one concise idea, moment, or observation. This will be much less focused, unfortunately; although for those of you plagued by an unrelenting curiosity for what each day is like after arriving alone in a foreign city, this, and the following posts, should be a good read. Anyway, my onetime creative writing teacher always said that you never know what an essay is about until after it's written, so here I go, to find out what the heck this trip is all about.
I arrived in Buenos Aires on a chilly morning after my 8-hour flight from Miami which I mostly slept through thanks to the effects of Ambien and a glass of red wine. The taxi driver was friendly enough, and although it cost me about US$30 for the trip, I was glad to have door-to-door service . The hostel I was staying in, with a recommendation from my Stanford friend Sam, was called el Firulete, right smack in the middle of downtown. In hindsight, I probably would have chosen the other Firulete location in the quieter neighborhood of Palermo, although it was nice to be close to all the subway lines and retail outlets and banks.
The centro, during the day on a Tuesday, is a mob scene. Finance, among other industries, has taken off in BA, and the number of people working in offices in the area far exceed the number that this part of the city was meant to accommodate. The sidewalks are barely wide enough for two people to pass, and buses (collectivos) pass frighteningly close at unexpected speeds (see my previous post). Had I had to walk the 8 blocks from where the airport shuttle bus drops off to the hostel with all of my luggage, I probably would have been run over.
I spent the day, and the next days as well, walking around, as is my habit in a new city. I started in the center, seeing the famous Plaza de Mayo and having lunch in the Plaza San Martin
. I bought my sandwich at a ridiculously crammed counter-style restaurant, and since there was no menu, innocently did my best to ask for whatever the New York-paced line cook would make me. I think it turned out to be a chicken sandwich.
After returning to the center and purchasing my cell phone (the cheapest I could find, and without a contract, of course), I hopped on the subway looking for a better neighborhood to alk around. I got off at Plaza Italia, at the center of Palermo, and then spent the rest of the afternoon walking back, zig-zagging the subway route for about 3 or 4 hours. It was really nice to get a feel for the neighborhoods--Palermo Viejo, Palermo Soho (supposedly like the NYC version, filled with boutiques), Recoleta (the wealthiest neighborhood) and Retiro (really an extension of the centro).
I got in touch with two of my friends from a past lifetime of Welsh Valley Middle School, Sarah and Carly, who have been here a month, and they gladly accepted my invitation to join me for dinner. We caught up on old times and old friends over bife de lomo, the standard cut of steak, before I headed back to the hostel to crash. The travel and walking really wore me out, so despite the hard bed and constantly passing busses, I slept well.
No comments:
Post a Comment