Steaking up 'til Sunrise: Buenos Aires

 

We had some caricatures done in Buenos Aires. They weren't especially flattering but it felt nice to leave a mark nonetheless. After much deliberation, we were persuaded to stay at infamous Milhouse Hostel by some party-loving fellow travelers. As usual, we needed the first night to find our feet, you know, get our bearings and recover from hauling our bags from land to sea to land. So, kindly declining our room-mates offers of electro-pop clubbing, we did what seemed the second most popular activity in Buenos Aires... We went and found steak.

Delighted with our first Argentinian meat experience, there was no question that lunch the next day would have to be the same.

Note to self: 'filete' does not always mean beef. Note to self II: fish does not go well with blue cheese sauce.


We were, however, very thankful for the lack of hangover, not least because the fish would've been even harder to stomach, but also because we managed to actually leave the hostel. Unlike some. We saw some really beautiful parts of the city. The ones we especially loved were those we just seemed to stumble upon.

In the bordering district to that of our hostel lay San Telmo- with an abundance of vintage shops and traditional cafes. We found ourselves wandering in and out of flea markets, as if in a different era altogether. We bought our dinner from an artisan deli and fresh salad from a young football fanatic.
Buenos Aires is sprawling. Anna's previously white flip flops turned grey. Eva got into five year old- 'Are we there yet?'- whine mode. Meg wanted to buy two litres of water at every corner shop. On every corner.


Fully rested, hydrated and fed, it was time for us to see what all the hype was about. We were hitting the town. We just had to wait to get our washing back. Our first load of washing in a long time; all two large crates of it. Considering we had been eating dinner in football shorts with no underwear, to say we were excited about our rejuvenated wardrobe would be an understatement. And by trip standards, we got seriously dolled up, noted by the fact that Meg turned to Anna and said- "You look weird with make-up".

In no rush to get out- they don't LEAVE until 2am- we snuck a bottle of vodka into the hostel room and played cards on the floor in our glad-rags. We did, however, socialise and accompanied our roomies (an extremely international and electric bunch of boys) to somewhere that was right up our street. The most hip, happening, hip hop club in the city.


We arrived to a dance-off, with numerous guys spinning on their heads in the middle of the floor, worming from one side of the circle to another. And we thought frilly tops would impress. Two vodka lemonades didn't quite seem to cut it on the cool-factor scale, but we were soon bopping along as best we could. Or at least, marveling at the regulars from a distance who actually knew the beat.

Home, just about in time to eat the world's most disappointing burger as the sun came up, we were thankful to the city for the odd sleeping habits it promotes. An empty dorm at 7am could only happen in BA. Mouths watering for the 'Full English' others had raved about, we managed to crawl out of bed to the hostel bar. This consisted of some microwaved scrambled eggs and gammon.
#Message to anyone who thinks this is good enough to recommend: It's not.


Day three was spent, again, walking vast distances. This time, to La Boca, a colourful mark left by the Italians in the West of the city. The sad thing was that although interesting, we'd pretty much seen it all on the postcards that we purchased on our first day. Minus the truck loads of  tourists with lenses bigger than their arses. En-route, we did stumble upon a huge football stadium, for the city's team La Boca and a giant chess set.

For the first time since the start of the trip, we decided to seek out a Lonely Planet recommendation. And lo and behold, it still existed and was at the same address as in the book! We spent a good couple of hours in this relaxed cafe, grazing on monkey nuts and a deli platter, and taking traveling tips from a ballsy American OAP.

We were keen to show some new-found friends, not including this lady, unfortunately, what Buenos Aires had to offer at night, so we ventured out again. After bumping into familiar faces at Milhouse's twin hostel (everybody seems to stay here), we aimlessly bundled in a taxi heading to the trendy Palermo district. We found a really atmospheric bar, with a tree growing up its centre and practiced our Spanish with the locals. Quite a few beers later, we were again, back just in time to watch BA flood with morning light.

The Setting Sun: Montevideo & Colonia

Although faced with numerous obstacles during our somewhat brief stay in Punta del Diablo, (the phrases that we had earlier joked about learning- no tenemos dinero, no tenemos amigos-suddenly became appropriate) we did get invited to a fire-pit meat feast. Despite already eating dinner, we  happily chowed down on Uruguay's finest tenderlion, cut to order on the huge wooden table. No shame in picking up the rarest pieces, chucking them to one another, and licking our fingers. Mmm.

It wasn't exactly a swift exit from this seaside getaway. Standardly, we had to wait for three hours on the floor of the bus station. But, instead of indulging in the newsagents' array of treats (we had literally NO money at this point thanks to the only cash-point being dry indefinitely), we put our time to good use and set up a semi-Spanish school so we could tell the bus driver to let us off this time. And let us off he did, in Uruguay's charming capital, Montevideo. 

Impecable Hostel didn't quite live up to its namesake, but it had a lot of character, a lot of mosquitoes as well. We spent the two days there basking on our balcony, mixing tomatoes with chorizo and calling them 'healthy salads'. and scouring the markets in Old Town for cute presents. Little did we realise that it would cost a day's wages to send the stuff home. 

The city was surprisingly small and a little sleepy; all the shops closed at 6. But we understood why. As the evening drew in, the pier, a three-block walk from our hostel, was framed by subtle, beautiful sunsets.

The next day, we were welcomed to Colonia profusely by everyone we walked past en-route to our hostel, which made us feel immediately special if not slightly weirded out. This old port town, characterised by its cobbled streets and over-priced seafood, served as quite a pleasant stop-over.

 Being the most romantic destination on our trip so far, we decided to indulge in a cracking meal and kissed under the stars. Just joking. Meg's new-found allergy: mussels, meant she had numerous late-night puking episodes, and of course, we were in bed by twelve so we didn't miss the all-important hostel breakfast. No one in their right mind would want to miss out on crackers and squash, now would they?! What with that, and our giant-sized ham and cheese sandwiches- we saw so many people walking past with them, we just had to find one for ourselves- we were set for our hour-long boat ride to Buenos Aires. Anticipating a slow ferry crossing, we couldn't have been more pleased with our first class catamaran crossing, complete with jovial boat camaraderie as the man across the isle played Happy Birthday incessantly on the ukulele.