uruguay
we set out across the water from buenos aires and after an almost embarassingly easy hour ride across the still waters of the rio del plata pulled into colonia de sacramento. the quaint cobbled streets of this small, invitingly picturesque uruguayan town were attractive enough, but arguably it was the blue skies and sunshine supplementing the lighthouse and river views that were most alluring. a day was more than enough to amble around the small grid of streets, see the sights and befriend the local canine populace (a task admittedly undertaken by only one member of the team, but whole heartedly so) but it was a day well spent.
it was with a very positive feeling about uruguay that i woke the next day, in preparation for another extremely easy journey up to montevideo. my good mood was dampened somewhat by my own stupidity when, in a desperate attempt to flee the slightly strange man following me around the shop where i was considering buying an oh so healthy yogurt, i chose to hop out of the store flat on my ankle, rather than my foot. ouch, and proof that no good can come from trying to have a healthy breakfast. still the bus ride was, again, very easy, although the drive through the outskirts of montevideo, crumbling shanty towns with high rise buildings in the background, was a shock, a remainder that the comfortable elegance of argentina and chile may not be totally representative of a region which retained a share of poverty and dismay that we had not encountered at all for weeks.
this impression was reinforced when wandering the streets of the capital, filled with the same colonial houses and edifices as buenos aires but which had crumbled into decayed grandeur rather than been converted into boutique hotels. it was actually an ambience i really enjoyed, particularly as it was one that bought to mind the shabby streets tinged with the whispers of refinement of calcutta. despite its proximity to buenos aires, the short journey across to montevideo seemed to take us from chic west european suburbs into a world which it could be believed was fifteen hours from home. finally a sentiment of dislocation corollary to geographical distance; it´s arguably this sensation, this sense of difference, that is the most rewarding thing about travelling, more than the sights and photo opportunities, and so it was an unexpected pleasure to have it back, albeit briefly.
we head across uruguay and back into argentina now, to get up to iguazu. it´s been the briefest of sojourns in a tiny country, but one that has been surprisingly reinvigorating.
scruffy in the good air
if we thought argentina to this point had been slickly first world buenos aires comfortably takes it up another level. we arrived on thursday morning after an extremely comfortable overnight bus ride, complete with plush leather seats; very fancy sounding, although i suppose with the number of cows the argentines munch down on they must have reams of leather just lying around. our intention was to stay in palermo, the ostensibly bohemian enclave just west of the centre of town and, on arrival, the decision seemed a good one. broad intercrossing streets filled with beautiful old buildings greeted us, although unfortunately none of them seemed to be hostels or hotels. as we wandered around we stumbled across a few accommodations all of which were, however, completely full. after being turned away from a couple of places, and finding the doors to others barred with foreboding completo signs pinned to them we were beginning to wonder if palermo wasn´t going to have any room to host us. we eventually found one room in a little hotel familiar which flicked its completo sign round on the door behind us. its strange, i´ve never really liked prebooking rooms when on the road as i´ve felt it distracts from the spontaneity of the process, but then wandering the streets in vague desperation as the complete lack of spaces became apparent was also the first time that the necessity of such organised behaviour suggested itself. another travelling certainty shattered, although arguably the it is actually the same myth that continues to be shattered, that south america is corollary to asia as a travelling destination.
i should probably add that we did find one hotel with rooms, plenty of rooms, avaiable. the sign attached to the slick yellow wall, atop faux roman urns, stated that it was an albuergue transitorio which confused me a little as i would have thought that all hostels were, by their nature, transitory. still, unwilling to allow my shoddy command of spanish hold us back, we ventured into the oddly dark lobby. the counter window was also bizarre, looking like it had been set for a midget, with the normally sized clerk staring at my nipples not my face. the board of rates above him, flanked by photos of garish 70s style rooms, was also out of kilter with other quotes we had had; too low to be in pesos, too high to be in dollars. bemused but thoughtful that such strangeness may lead to a bargain i asked the clerk for some prices. after a conversation that was always going to struggle thanks to my halting spanish the riddle unravelled: the rates were by the hour and this, indeed, was the only unit of time that the rooms could be let for. transitorio indeed, designed one can presume for only for very specialist clientele...
i am a real big city boy and buenos aires has not disappointed. palermo would put any district in london or paris to shame, simply overflowing with boutiques and impossibly cool looking restaurants and bars. a running theme of the last couple of months has been our begrudging acceptance of inflated food bills for horrible fare: ba is not much cheaper, but the food, the choices, the wine, it´s all so good! although i´m not sure how much i buy into this doing everything in the small hours lark, eating at ten still seems like madness and certainly not compatible with good old fashioned binge drinking.
we haven´t really done much here, just wandered around a lot milling in and out of the crowded streets gawping at the prices in the windows and the slick european chic of the portenos around us, sniffily regarding our dishevelled appearances. although whilst my scruffiness may have got some wary looks, it hasn´t matched the looks of horror when i described evita as little more than the wife of a fascist dictator. when standing by her tomb. surrounded by teary eyed types who think andrew lloyd webber is a historian. oops.
all in all a great place, though arguably one which could only really show its undoubtable qualities during an extended stay. the number of places to eat and drink and enjoy mark this out more as a city to live in than just visit; scratching the surface has been a delight in itself but leaves the lingering suspicion, and accompanying frustration, that to find out what lies beneath would be truly spectacular.
