It's because of this negativity that I didn't want to write this post but after a metaphorical kick up the jacksie I'm going to get on with it, and if I sound like a total misery guts just blame it on female hormones or something. But be warned: the next couple of paragraphs are a RANT!
So... where shall I start? How about with the most horrible thing I can say and then it'll just be uphill from there? Nearly all of the Argentinian people we met were wholly incompetent. You can of course pay a lot of money to get some competence but even then it's a matter of luck if you get it. I guess we felt this more than other travellers because we were awaiting the arrival of an important parcel sent from London and needed to rely on the locals to get it after it was held at customs (sounds really suspicious, I know!) I won't go into detail but after three days of chasing and running around DHL offices in the city with nobody giving us the correct information, literally hundreds of pounds paid out, hours upon hours wasted and a highly unlikely bursting-into-tears by yours truly, we finally cut our losses and decided to give up dealing with these rude and clueless people. I never did get my package. And knowing the Argentinians, we'll probably receive a bill in five years for storage costs.
I know I'm generalising about an entire nation and I shouldn't. I'm obviously still very bitter about not being given my parcel! But we couldn't help compare the people here to the Chileans who, if asked a question to which they don't know the answer, will say they don't know and do whatever it takes to get the correct information for you. In El Calafate, Buenos Aires and Iguazu (all our Argentinian stops) they'll just give you a load of bullshit, hope they've managed to blag it and let you deal with the consequences. We got this everywhere, from people on the street to tour operators and even staff in 5* hotels. The mistake we made was going to Argentina with high expectations and thinking it was the country in South America best equipped with Western-style capabilities, but that's just an image created by the Argentinians themselves who are very arrogant and consider themselves to be much better than the continent's other nations yet actually have no basis for this arrogance. So their country looks a bit more like Spain than Peru does - why is that a big deal? Don't get me wrong, we did meet a handful of really lovely people but even they had an attitude towards their neighbours - especially the Brazilians - that was bordering on offensive racism (not that there's any other kind of racism but you get what I mean!)
Ok, so rant over, you'll be pleased to hear! Now I can get back to normal and talk about the good times. Buenos Aires is known for being a nocturnal city and this was lucky for us because, despite our days being rubbish, our nights here were a lot of fun. On Christmas Eve we went to 'La Viruta', a lively 'milonga' joint where locals go to Tango. 'La Viruta' means 'sawdust' and refers to the effect the dance has on the floorboards. Similar to Bhangra's "chak de phatte" I guess (tear up the floorboards.) We were hoping to learn a few moves and have a laugh trying to dance with people but Tango is an extremely serious business in Argentina. The people in La Viruta were brilliant dancers and were concentrating very hard so we thought it best to simply sit back and watch instead. It was a great thing to see but by golly, it's a difficult dance!
We went one night to a Tango class which was great fun. Less so when the teacher decided I would be a good demonstration partner for her but it would've been worse if she'd made me be the man, especially as I stopped scratching my crotch many years ago. After the class we watched a professional show and the dancers were incredible. It might be serious, it might be hard, but when it's done right it's very sexy and mesmerising. We talked about Tango with some locals and they said it's not common for the average person to know any because of its difficulty. "It's the same as going to Japan and expecting everyone to be good at Karate," they said. You can go to clubs or the streets of San Telmo and see a lot of people dancing but they're generally shaking rhythmically to the style and beats of salsa or samba - you can tell the difference because they smile and have fun and anybody can join in whereas Tango is all about the closed eyes and tortured expressions.
We were expecting good wine and beef in Argentina. We certainly got that but we weren't quite expecting the quantities of both that they like to throw down your gullet! We went to quite a few barbecue joints where whole cows were hacked into pieces and thrown on the sizzling grill right in front of us. The people really know how to cook a steak well here! Not only steak but just about every part of the animal possible - tongue, intestines, balls. There's a saying that refers to following the cow from nose to tail: how very apt! At these places, where you're encouraged to eat your body weight in meat, we were told wine is included. Going by London standards we obviously thought this meant a glass each but no, in Argentina they generally always give you an entire bottle per person! And good wine, too. Imran was loving it, having avoided beef for two months in order to save himself for Argentina and boy, did he pig out.. but he's still getting slimmer by the day. (I am hating this! I don't want to be bigger than my man but he's like a metabolic machine!!) All those people who said that I'd start liking/eating red meat after being in Buenos Aires, it is my pleasure to tell you that I couldn't be arsed to try any and when I did (one time, a tiny piece from a steak that Imran claimed was the best he'd ever eaten) I still didn't understand what the fuss was about. All it did was confirm that yes, I have lost all interest in meat (apart from fish) and will be turning full-time veggie back home. Our mothers are not going to be best pleased with me!
During our travels, we've bumped randomly into a nice couple from Buenos Aires several times. The first few times were funny but after the fifth time (and in the most unlikely of places) we decided the universe was sending us a message and exchanged contact details. So when we got to BA we all met up in Puerto Madero, the Argentinian version of Canary Wharf, for one of these barbecue dinners with an abundance of wine. It's amazing how well four bottles of red can dissolve any language barriers! As long as I steered the conversation away from Brazilian people, we had a great night and they restored some of my faith in the Argentinians. So THAT was the message the universe was trying to send me!
Due to our trouble with customs we unfortunately had to cancel a tour we'd booked to a Gaucho ranch, where we would've ridden horses and eaten food cooked by the cowboys on an open fire. Oh well, it wasn't meant to be. We did manage a trip out to Tigre though, a pretty river delta popular with weekend visitors and rich folk with riverfront summer houses. A relaxing boat ride in the sunshine on Christmas Day was definitely welcome after the late night on Christmas Eve (the far bigger celebration here.)
Back in Buenos Aires, we couldn't go to a football match at the famous Boca Juniors stadium as there were no games on but the La Boca area was worth a visit anyway for its colourful character, Italian influence and charismatic community. The kids from this area bound into the Metro carriages playing music, dancing, juggling and somersaulting and then leave just as quickly, taking their whirlwind of energy and pierced lips with them. We also visited the Recoleta cemetery near our hotel. It might sound like a cemetery is an odd place to visit but this one is a massive tourist attraction due to the rich, famous and powerful people wanting as much luxury in death as they did in life. Coffins - often of many family members and generations - are housed in large ornate buildings with statues, carvings and marble walls for decoration. It's a miniature city - literally the city of the dead. Eva Peron (or Evita) is buried here and only her 'house' ever has flowers in front of it thanks to the visiting fans. At first we couldn't find the entrance. "How do you get into this cemetary?" Imran asked me. "You have to be dead," I replied. He did NOT appreciate my joke.
Our time in Buenos Aires was both good and bad, fun and frustrating, relaxing and stressful. It's our least favourite city that we've been to but it's difficult to tell how much of that is due to our negative experiences. We think that it may still have been our least favourite had everything been hunky dory but we would've said so a bit more grudgingly. There's a lot of ponce here but without the base quality required to back it up. It IS a nice city but it's not beautiful or anything special by any stretch of the imagination, especially with the excess of dog poo on the streets. There certainly is an attitude of arrogance but many of us in Europe have that so why can't the Argentinians?
I revoke my earlier statements about the people and I think a far more accurate generalisation would be: when they're horrible, they're a pain in the arse but when they're nice they're amazing. The men kiss each other on the cheek in greeting more than they kiss women and it was very funny to see Imran's initial surprise when it first happened to him, but once he was told it was traditional in their culture, he willingly threw his cheek forward for every man who said hi. He's going to kill me for saying that but it cracked me up every time! And we met a great guy who embraced our culture as much in return. "Where are you from, my man?" he asked. When Imran said London he replied: "Oh yeah, my man, I speak the London language.. INNIT!" We never imagined in our wildest dreams we'd hear that word in South America. But then, Argentina was just full of surprises.. innit?
After Buenos Aires we spent a couple of days in Iguazu National Park to see the Iguazu Falls, one of the Seven Natural Wonders of the World. They are absolutely breathtaking. As well as the main falls there are lots of little random waterfalls surrounded by jungle, with monkeys, funky birds and beautifully coloured and patterned butterflies everywhere. The falls start at the chasm called 'Devil's Throat' where the water collects in a rough whirlpool which then charges off the edge and down 82m. We took a boat ride at the bottom and were taken directly under the falls - the power of the water is phenomenal. You just see a mass of white froth coming towards you until you can see nothing else and then it's like a thousand people are pouring buckets of water over your head all at once. We totally underestimated how close the boat would take us and how wet we'd actually get, so it was a very bad time to be wearing a white t-shirt. There's just no need for the world to see me looking like a high-school tart in a wet t-shirt contest, no matter how proud I may be of my assets hahaha!
But what better way to get ourselves ready for Brazil? Although grateful for the good times and wonderful sights in Argentina, we weren't sad to be leaving and were excitedly looking forward to going to the land of thongs and bare naked bums. That's one blog post I just know is going to be nothing but positive. Rio De Janeiro, here we come, baby!
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