Like The Difference Between Night & Day

But really it was the difference between morning and afternoon.

Having seen the city by foot and not thinking much of it, I wrongly figured the afternoon tour would be a waste of time and money.  While I was fully out of the Ambien-induced state of fuzziness, I was tired and a bit cranky.

But it all got better.

At first our guide was not very talkative, but Carol was her engaging self, asking questions and showing off her knowledge of Latin culture and Argentinian history (my knowledge is limited to a Broadway musical and a moronic war).  The more Carol talked, the more our guide (Georgina) shared with us.  We were in a nice minivan that was well air conditioned, with a bottle of water for each of us.  Our driver did not speak to us (I’m guessing English is not his thing), but was unfailingly polite.

Our guide took us through many of the sights we had already seen, but explained their history and importance.  We also learned a lot more about Buenos Aires overall.  We went into the Cathedral, and learned more about the protests at the square.  

Then we went to the LaBoca neighborhood, a funky, bohemian type place with restaurants, cafes art shops, colorful buildings, street musicians.  Prior to stopping, we drove past the famed stadium where the Boca Juniors play –a 54,000 seat South American cathedral to soccer.  Our guide was pleased I knew of the Hand of God and Maradona, who she said playfully “is God.”

We stopped by a street market and were given 30 minutes to explore on our own.  As we crossed the street to the market, I saw a pretty young woman coming at me to do the tango for money (it wasn’t for my looks), but I showed a surprising burst speed for a 53 year guy with a bad knee and escaped before she could intercept my path.  I acted as though I couldn’t hear her call plaintively after me, undoubtedly surprised by my momentary speed and disappointed by her temporary loss of income.

We hit a wine shop to buy a couple of bottles to bring on the ship (they are packed inside clothes and boots for protection) and generally enjoyed our 30 minute walkabout.

After LaBoca, we went to Puerto Madero and cross the pedestrian bridge, which was designed by the same fellow who designed the famous bridge in Seville.  We had good views up and down the old ports, which are now filled with restaurants and shops – sort of like the Inner Harbor in Baltimore.  There were a number of weird and exotic restaurants, with unusual names like TGIFriday’s.  (Seriously, there are plenty of local restaurants there too, so it would be a good place to go for dinner – our guide even strongly recommended it.)

Heading back toward the hotel, we stopped at the semi-famous Plaza Nacional Unidas (Plaza of National Unity – see, I got this Spanish language thing nearly nailed!), which features a huge metal flower that opens and closes mechanically.  Despite it being daytime (and supposed to be open, it was closed).  It is constructed of old airplane metal, and donated by Lockheed-Martin of Argentina.

Our final stop was at the most amazing cemetery I’ve ever seen (with the exception of Arlington and the D-Day cemetery in Normandy, but that’s for different reasons).  It was like a city of mausoleums, with streets emanating in different directions with haunting and strangely beautiful mausoleums.  They are of the 1% of Buenos Aires – rich families that had bought the space, and pay property taxes and maintenance fees now.  As a family’s fortune falls they may end up selling their mausoleum to another family, and moving all of their dead relatives out.  There were no “for sale” or even “VRBO” signs that we saw, but odds are quite high that’s not how the transactions are done.

Yes, we went to the mausoleum of the Duarte family, which is where the most famous Argentinian is buried – Eva Peron.  There were five plaques dedicated to Evita alone on the mausoleum (other family members were lucky to get one), and it was a short line to get right in front as people paid their respects.

I can only compare it to visiting Jim Morrison’s grave in Paris in May 1984 as a college student (sorry, but he’s dead – not writing poetry somewhere in Africa) or Abner Doubleday’s grave in Arlington (just kidding, he didn’t invent baseball, so it’s nothing special!).

I took some neat pictures down the “streets” of the mausoleum – hopefully the perspective works.

We learned from our guide that Buenos Aires has 14 million people in the city (4 million) and suburbs (10 million) and that the financial crunch is pretty severe right now.  Georgina clearly loves her city and country, but she is quite concerned about the economic situation.  It’s food for thought as we went through the city.