I was originally planing on going to Uruguay this weekend (it's a short boat ride across the bay) but decided on Friday that I really wasn't excited about it and that the costs/benefits weren't really appropriate. Staying in Buenos Aires though proved to be a fantastic decision, and I got a chance to really explore the city more.
When I went for my coffee this morning the streets were empty. It was shocking at first, and I took the liberty of standing in the middle of a downtown avenue yelling, listening to the echo. This was seriously semi post-apocalyptic type stuff. I decided to take advantage of this temporary absence of people from Buenos Aires by taking all sorts of pictures. (I have no idea why people weren't out and about, maybe something to do with religion? or just culture? hangovers?)
The area surrounding this statue is the entrance to the pedestrian-only Florida St. which is usually so packed with people that it makes walking difficult. I like the statue because if I see it on my walk to school I know I haven't gotten lost that day. It's amazing what joy the sight of horse's ass can bring.
I found some of the people that had fled the city. Buenos Aires has a huge natural reserve between its increasingly distinguishable skyline and the "river" which is actually the delta where the Rio Plata meets the Atlantic. This riparian zone has a wealth of walking paths that completely shut the city out making it seem as if the only existing beings are yourself and nature...and the sweaty bikers and runners zooming past--headphones blaring publicly audible pop tunes. My only qualm with the whole thing was the knowledge that the shoreline existed right beyond the trees but there was never an entrance down to the water and this definitely seemed like the type of place where a person was supposed to remain on the trail. Impatient for the sight of the infinite horizon, I bushwhacked a little bit when nobody was looking and popped out on the Atlantic ocean.
Despite the water being more turbid than the Ganges, the beautiful day combined with the morning's absence of smog, and the wind shadow preventing swell, the horizon was razor sharp and, despite my inability to photographically capture the essence of the scene, due more to my own photographic incompetence than the iPhone's quality, it was truly a scene to remember.
I decided to sunbathe on my deserted beach, so I stripped, laid out on a big smooth branch of a tree, and took a nap.
Feeling relaxed and decadence, I decided to indulge in a steak and coffee. In Buenos Aires when you order a coffee it comes in a cup, although this picture makes it look large, somewhere in-between the size of a regular coffee mug and an espresso cup. The contents within are also somewhere between an Americano and espresso, leaning more towards espresso. Although the beans from which the coffee originates are not generally of very good quality from a connoisseur's standpoint (100% Arabica mono-origin blends are a trend limited primarily to the US right now). The concept though, is one which I would love to see catch on back home. With the addition of premium quality beans, this would be my preferred drink. I have been spying on the baristas for the past week, every day, and they don't make the coffee any differently, they just serve you what comes from the machine, so the espresso machines themselves must be doing something differently. I will be finding out this week. God help the pour barista who has to decipher my miserable Spanish to explain the inner workings of their machine.
Also, coffee is always served with a little double-shot-sized glass with club soda in it. This too, although I can't understand why it's done, is a phenomenal addition to one's morning coffee experience.
I ordered a Bife Chorizo which I think means the cut essentially equivalent to ribeye? I was a little disappointed because it came entirely unaccompanied. NO FRIES! What kind of ribeye doesn't come with potatoes of some sort? I cut my first bite, with the side of my fork mind you, and as it hit my tongue I fell in love. I literally felt like thanking the cow personally. I now understood the chef's intentions; would a bottle of fine wine ever be served with a side of Pepsi? I don't know because I couldn't afford the wine in the first place, but I doubt it. I don't understand how the chef cooked the steak because it had no definitive grill marks, but I wish I knew. What a feast. People warned me that the beef down here was good, but this is crazy!
On my way home I decided to tempt fate and piss on my territory, so to speak. This is a picture pointing in the opposite direction from the one which prompted the loss of my headphones. My pride has been restored.
I realized that the baseball metaphor I started discussed earlier is actually quite stupid. I think it was just pride that I'd overcome my fear of eating food prepared by others, which was a result of my stay in Guatemala last year and that trip's effect on my digestive system.
I will be leaving for Bariloche on Saturday, and may or may not post again until I have arrived there, depending on whether I accumulate enough blog fodder to require a post prior to my departure.
When I went for my coffee this morning the streets were empty. It was shocking at first, and I took the liberty of standing in the middle of a downtown avenue yelling, listening to the echo. This was seriously semi post-apocalyptic type stuff. I decided to take advantage of this temporary absence of people from Buenos Aires by taking all sorts of pictures. (I have no idea why people weren't out and about, maybe something to do with religion? or just culture? hangovers?)
Also, coffee is always served with a little double-shot-sized glass with club soda in it. This too, although I can't understand why it's done, is a phenomenal addition to one's morning coffee experience.
I ordered a Bife Chorizo which I think means the cut essentially equivalent to ribeye? I was a little disappointed because it came entirely unaccompanied. NO FRIES! What kind of ribeye doesn't come with potatoes of some sort? I cut my first bite, with the side of my fork mind you, and as it hit my tongue I fell in love. I literally felt like thanking the cow personally. I now understood the chef's intentions; would a bottle of fine wine ever be served with a side of Pepsi? I don't know because I couldn't afford the wine in the first place, but I doubt it. I don't understand how the chef cooked the steak because it had no definitive grill marks, but I wish I knew. What a feast. People warned me that the beef down here was good, but this is crazy!
On my way home I decided to tempt fate and piss on my territory, so to speak. This is a picture pointing in the opposite direction from the one which prompted the loss of my headphones. My pride has been restored.
I realized that the baseball metaphor I started discussed earlier is actually quite stupid. I think it was just pride that I'd overcome my fear of eating food prepared by others, which was a result of my stay in Guatemala last year and that trip's effect on my digestive system.
I will be leaving for Bariloche on Saturday, and may or may not post again until I have arrived there, depending on whether I accumulate enough blog fodder to require a post prior to my departure.
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