Buenos Aires redemption

The plane touched down at Jorge Newberry airport directly next to the ocean, bar one road. It seemed
strange that such a big city had given so much waterfront space to an airport. My bag came out quickly and I said goodbye to Luis again. My phone battery had 4% left, just enough to download the email with the instructions to get the hostel. I used my SUBE card to catch the 45 bus into centro, tracking my progress on maps.me as my battery went down to 2%. I memorised the stop and map. The bus was packed and stuck in heavy traffic, every time it lurched forward I nearly fell onto both my bags and another person. But it was only 7 pesos, ridiculously cheap compared to a 350 taxi.

It was sunny in town and the hostel was located in a great spot, near beautiful Parisian buildings. Maybe because it was sunny, I didn’t get the dodgy vibe I had previously from Buenos Aires. Everyone still walked with their bags on their front and didn’t smile but it felt nice.
The hostel check-in was a bit random and impersonal. I couldn’t work out how to get through the door at first and a loud buzzer was going off. But then I was in and went to my room. I could tell the other three were boys from their possessions. I was so tired from barely enough sleep, so I watched some Casa del Papel on my phone for a couple of hours.

Around 4pm I decided I needed to eat, and researched a burger restaurant with great reviews just a few streets away. It was called Banco Rojo, I sat in the window with a beer and watching the barber across the road stand in his doorway. The burger was great too, there was loud Latin rock music playing and the staff seemed to be having some kind of party that involved running and screaming. Far from being annoying, all their energy seemed to give me an energy for the city again.

I went back to the hostel via a supermarket for water, wine and dessert. I sat in the hostel near a very
young and green Brit called Matt. He was just off the plane about to travel for a year and was asking
questions about ATMs and practical travel stuff so I shared the wine with him. I didn’t need it all myself anyway. He had come to South America with only shorts. The quiet British guy who had been on my bus from El Chalten when I hurt my leg, my hostel in El Calafate was now here with a group of another British guy and two tall American guys that looked like twins in their Patagonia puffers.

I said to Matt we should join them, but they were going out to dinner and left a few hours later. Matt
suggested we go to Palermo – he thought it was a 20-minute walk, not a 45-minute subway. So I
suggested we just wander around San Telmo and find some bars. It didn’t take long until we were having a beer in Garage bar, watching a work party and making up stories about the people. The bar was weirdly empty. Matt ordered but needed to be rescued after saying ‘dos cervesas por favour’ and the guy replied with do you want red or blonde beer in Spanish. I also found out he had been saying to everyone ‘no hablas espanol’ or ‘you don’t speak Spanish’ which was very funny.

Then we went to another busier bar. I recognised the street that Susie and I hadn’t enjoyed when we
first arrived but now it was lively with lots of people out and about. We had another round of beers and a montana of papas fritas covered in bacon and cheese that we couldn’t finish. Next, we went to a
random local bar and sat outside when a guy came to sell pipes. Matt found this hilarious and they were two for one, handmade, so we bought some. He also asked if you could get a combo deal with weed and the guy gave him his whatsapp.

Laughing we ran back to the hostel where a German girl called Natasha and the British guy with the
Americans but now alone, Rui were drinking beer. We kept drinking someone’s wine and Rui went out to buy more supplies with Matt. Somehow Matt returned with weed he bought from a dairy owner. He sat outside the hostel to smoke it and I went out to him. As I did a policeman walked past. He asked what we were doing and then grabbed the weed. We just kept talking in English saying we didn’t speak Spanish although I understood he said we had to go to the station. Matt got up and said I wasn’t involved, which was nice of him and the policeman told him to wait out on the road. He kept arguing with me, and in that time Matt ran away. I watched the policeman throw it in a dumpster across the road and went inside to tell the others. 20 minutes later Matt reappeared, he had been for a run.

I completely lost track of time but somehow we ended up playing a drinking game until maybe 3am. I
don’t remember going to bed. I woke up around 8, went to the bathroom (I think the Armenian guy in the room kept pissing on the seat) and went back to sleep until 9.30. Then I dragged myself to have a shower and go to breakfast by ten. I had eggs, cake, dulce de leche on toast, coffee, cereal the works.

The two Americans next to me talked about skiing and their jobs. Then I went back to the room to pack one last time. A Scottish guy and Argentinian were up and awake now.
I checked out, stored my bag and went to lie on the super comfortable massive couch by the reception. Soft eighties rock covers were being played. Natasha, Matt and Rui all appeared looking quite hungover. I was hungover but I was exhausted from two nights in a row. Natasha really wanted a steak so at about midday we walked to some recommended restaurants. The first one was too posh and above our price range, the second was very, very local but looked good. There was a bar, signed soccer t-shirts on the wall and a whole bunch of random antiques.

We ordered a steak each after staring blankly at the menu indecisively for 20 minutes. Natasha was starving and kept looking upset every time food came out that wasn’t ours. But when it did, the food was so ginormous – 4 500g steaks. Somehow, despite no one else having a big breakfast only two hours before, I managed to finish mine first. Rui and Natasha didn’t finish theirs at all and she took hers away in a meat tray that looked like one in a supermarket.

Walking through the sunny streets with them made me feel so happy to be in Buenos Aires. We took
photos of the Parisian buildings and I could’ve stopped and shopped in the second-hand bookstores and op shops. Natasha and Matt went to check into their new hostel and Rui went on a walking tour at 3pm, so I sat on that massive couch and watched tv. At 5pm I decided I needed to say goodbye to the city, so I walked around Puerto Madero as the sunset. I didn’t take my camera but all the buildings were so beautiful. I felt good not carrying much.

I returned to the hostel and tried to sleep on the couch downstairs. At 7pm I heard the music change
upstairs – the free tango lessons were about to start! I dragged myself up there to find Rui and Natasha ready. A random British guy who had lived in NZ for 3 years called Jack sat down for a beer but was convinced to give it a go by the pretty dance teacher Anabella. A random Korean couple also gave it a go and a guy on his computer was forced into it to make even couples. We ran through the steps separately, boys facing girls in a line like a school. Then I danced with Jack, although she made us change couples every few minutes. The steps got more complicated and difficult... it’s safe to say literally everyone was terrible. Jack was really tall and all the other boys were shorter than me, so doing the leg kick wasn’t easy.

We sat down after tango, all hot and sweating. Jack went to buy a beer and Rui was already drinking
somehow. The others convinced me to get one, so I dashed to the supermarket and grabbed 3 beers for us – for about $2. I didn’t need to drink after the last two days but it felt nice! Then my taxi arrived at 8.45pm and I gave them all a hug. I was off home again! It didn’t feel real, more just like another day of travelling, another city and another airport.