To See a Tango

After 29 years Joe and I were returning to Argentina. The first trip was taken when Joe finished Stanford Business School. He offered me an emerald ring for having put him through school, I asked for an emerald from South America instead. We spent three weeks on our own personal tour of South America, from Peru thru Bolivia to Paraguay and Uraguay, Argentina, Brazil, and Columbia. We were arrested for breaking curfew in Cuzco, helped push our bus across the Andes, and generally had the adventure of a lifetime. Children came along shortly thereafter and the adventure trips were replaced by beach trips to Hawaii. Then, this year, Joe began traveling to South America on business and I finally got to tag along. We really would only have the weekend to sightsee, and I would be on my own for the other days.

We left on Monday August 14, through Dallas. The flight to Buenos Aires out of Dallas was only about 2/3 full, so I ended up with two seats together, and Joe was in the two seats in front of me. This enabled me to almost stretch out and sleep but it was still very uncomfortable, and even with the aid of over the counter sleeping pills I only slept about four hours of the ten and one half hour flight. This was a week of hard work for Joe and at the outset I wondered if the vacation part would be worth the trouble.

Arriving in Buenos Aires to gray and cool weather, we had about a half hour taxi drive to the Hilton in the Puerto Maderos Barrio of Buenos Aires. This hotel welcomed Joe as a Hilton “gold” member at its eighth floor member desk, and we checked in to our spacious room. Because of his “gold” status we had the use of a large club room on the eighth floor, with complimentary breakfast buffet, afternoon tea, and happy hour drinks. The hotel is in the redeveloped port area and is surrounded by water, and also by red brick docks that have been reborn as trendy restaurants. We were a little away from the center of town but in a very safe, popular area. Taxis were cheap but the drivers were wild, and we were careful to take “Radio Taxi”s or have the hotel call us one.

Joe had a late morning appointment so I unpacked and actually napped a bit. I also visited the concierge to arrange a tour of the city for Wednesday, and a tour of the Delta of the River Plate for Thursday, both for myself only, as Joe had meetings. We inquired about the possibility of a package to Iguazu Falls, and he came back with flights and a stay at the only hotel in the National Park, for Friday and Saturday, when Joe had no appointments While Joe went to his afternoon appointment I closed with the concierge and bought the falls view package, assuming if we only went once…..Around 6 pm we took a taxi to the Galleries Pacifico, a very upscale shopping center. I was there to price, but did a little shopping. Joe was impressed with the polo stores and said he figured out where Ralph Lauren got his inspiration. We strolled Florida Avenue, once one of the most posh streets in the world. We saw a tango being performed by an older couple to boom box rhythms. We walked to dinner at a very nice restaurant in an old dock building, called Cabana des Lillas. The lomo, or filet, was enormous and the salad equally good. We had no trouble sleeping that night.

The next morning we left the hotel shortly after nine, Joe to his appointment, and I for my three hour city tour. There was only one other person on the tour, so we felt as if Christina, our guide was our very own. She had traveled to the US many times she said, and had spent a month driving the West Coast. The tour agency is called Friendly Visit, and I would recommend them to anyone visiting BA.

First we stopped in the Plaza de Mayo, the traditional square with a statue of San Martin, who brought freedom to several South American countries. One end is anchored by the Casa Rosada, the government house where the President works, and the scene of many of Eva Peron’s speeches from its balcony. This is also the plaza where the mothers marched every Thursday during the time when so many young men disappeared from Argentina, in the 1970’s. We went into the national Cathedral and saw the grave of San Martin. We then drove through the cobblestone streets of San Telmo to reach the original port of BA, La Boca. It is the home of the famous “futbol” team the Boca Juniors, and also the immigrant settlements, and the home of the Tango. We walked Caminito, the famous street with multicolored houses built by Italian and other European immigrants. Often twenty families would live in these houses, one to a room, sharing a common kitchen and bath. We saw a couple doing the tango in the street. From La Boca we passed by the original port, then went to Recoleta and saw the elaborate tombs of prominent Argentineans, including Eva Duarte Peron. We passed Little Ben, a clock given by England to Argentina on its centennial in 1916, which ironically faces the monument to those who died in the Falklands War with England.


After a half hour’s rest at the hotel, I phoned the concierge for information about buying leather. Instead of going to the leather district some distance away, on his recommendation I was picked up by a representative of Gonzales Leather Factory and driven somewhere far south at great speed to a district that looked that Tijuana to me. I worried that I was lost, perhaps abducted for ransom, but then we stopped at a small storefront where a young woman unlocked a glass door for me to enter. Shoes. I stopped at 3 pair. Wallets, I didn’t buy enough. Jacket. He offered to tailor one for me and to deliver it to the hotel the next evening. It is reversible sued and leather and just right for the Bay Area.

That night we returned to the docks area in Puerto Madero and ate at an Italian restaurant whose name in translation is “The Mistress”. Too much food again.

Thursday I left a bit early as the guide was early, and I soon found out why. We had to be in Tigre to catch our boat tour of the delta by 10:30. Again, there was only one other person on the tour—a woman from Berkeley! We drove parallel to the widest river in the world, the River Plate, past colonial houses of the last century, through the scenic roads of San Isidro to the riverside town of Tigre. The river boats were shallow, wide wooden craft, designed to navigate the islands and shallow waterways of the silty Plate. I have many many photos of the vacation houses of the portenos, as the residents of BA call themselves. There are boats that deliver groceries and water and haul away garbage. In the summer the pocket beaches (made with imported sand) are crowded with families escaping the heat of the city. After the boat tour we had a lovely lunch in a century old house that is now a four room hotel, and returned to BA.

Joe wanted to recreate our dinner of 29 years ago at the Palace Hotel. So we took a taxi to this old and expensive hotel—where the restaurant no longer exists as the London Grill, and even has no memory in employees of twenty years. So we settled for a very expensive drink in their rococo bar and watched the people. Afterwards we took a taxi to the Café Tortoni, where the maitre d’ seated us at one of the last tables. The café has been there since 1858 and was the haunt of BA’s famous writers and artists, some of whom are depicted in lifesize mannequins. We ordered hearts of palm and celery salad, the dish we would have had at the London Grill, if it still existed. This was a young and multinational crowd and we enjoyed watching the activity. We could hear the tango show in the adjacent room. By the time we left there were lines outside the door. Our taxi driver was the wildest yet, and we were glad to get back to our hotel.

Friday morning meant a trip to the domestic airport for our flight to Igauzu Falls. South Americans as travelers are more anxious and pushy than North Americans, perhaps they travel less. In any event we had a two hour flight to the top of Argentina, right on the Brazilian border. We were met by a travel agent and taken to the Sheraton, the only hotel in the National Park. Our room opened to a balcony with a dramatic view of the falls. In the short time that we were in Iguazu, the falls view mesmerized me, with its constantly changing plume of spray and vapor. The Brazilian side has the more dramatic view, but because the water level was relatively low, it didn’t matter. That first afternoon we hiked through the hotel grounds to a small open air train, and rode to the entrance of a trailhead that was built out over the river. A half mile walk over islands and streams took us to the very edge of the largest falls, where we were suspended ten feet over the precipice.

I watched the sunset on my balcony while Joe made business calls, and then we went to dinner in the hotel restaurant. A harpist played while we ate the best hearts of palm salad ever—it was a trio of chopped palm, topped with a mousse of palm, crowned with deep fried palm. When our waiter saw how much we liked it he brought us some palm flowers to eat also. The next day on our jungle tour we learned that Argentina has no native palmitos suitable for harvest, so I have to wonder where the flowers came from.

Saturday morning we were packed and had our luggage stored by 10 am, and walked again through the hotel grounds to embark on our jungle/boat expedition. Not knowing quite what to expect, we were pleased to see the large jeeplike trucks with benches, an ideal way to see the animals and rain forest. Except that we didn’t see any animals. Disappointing since the sliding glass door in our hotel room had a sign asking us not to feed the monkeys. But the vegetation was lush and blooming and the vines made us think Tarzan was out there swinging.

The truck stopped at a clearing and we found—surprise—that we had to walk down several hundred steps to a dock and a rather large inflatable boat. This was not Maid of the Mist. This was Jacques Cousteau meets Jet Boat. Fortunately the water was low enough that I knew we couldn’t go all the way upstream to the falls. But we did go fast, and we did “fly a pontoon” several times, getting seriously wet in the process. Joe had more fun than I have seen in many a year. That was worth it. The ride out of the jungle was definitely an anticlimactic.

We spent lunchtime in the visitor center and browsing the handicrafts. Once I would have shopped for carvings and brightly striped weavings but I just purchased a small toucan for my Christmas tree. Back to the hotel, where we sat on the terrace and practiced waterfall meditation until time for our pickup to go to the airport and back to Buenos Aires. Somethere between the hotel and BA I lost my digital camera with two day’s worth of photos.

Sunday was our last day, a gray cold day that made us realize how fortunate we had been in our weather to date. We set out for the antiques market in San Telmo, which was interesting. Cobblestone steeets with mimes and musicians and booths filled with the detritus of Argentina’s twentieth century. Old books and medals and crystal. Chocolate vendors and women selling crocheted scarves. No tourists. Again, I didn’t buy the silver and china that I once would have coveted. From the market we went to the Eva Peron Museum, set in a house she once owned in Palermo, traditionally a barrio for the wealthy portenos. This was a find, an only-in-BA experience. From her hats to her shoes, the museum contained possessions cherished by her family, and shared in this memorial that they sponsored. We saw news reels of her speeches, her very high heels, her dresses elegant and mostly black. We read about her work on women’s rights, and the vote for women. Some think it a one-sided presentation of a controversial figure, but it is well done.

Once we were at the airport we separated, me to take American Airlines home, Joe to find that he had a reservation for Rio de Janeiro but no seat. He was forced to spend another night in BA before moving on to his work week in Brazil. My trip home was not as difficult as the trip down had been. And I have found again my sense of adventure in traveling the world. Sign me up for the next trip.