Buenos Aires
On a flight from a far-off winter land I arrive after 14 hours of sitting and smiling in trepidation, to one of the bigest cities of South America.
Thrown into the culture and heat I begin to contemplate everything around me during the hectic taxi ride. Homes made from discarded bricks, metal sheeting and graffiti are dwarfed by the towering overspill of high-rise apartment blocks. And to greet me – searing heat followed by a torrential rain storm.
Everywhere in the city steak beckons, parrillas (grill restaurants) greet you on every corner, akin to homely pubs. Empanadas (small savoury patries), alfajores (caramel filled biscuites) and world class ice cream fill the hunger between your carnivorous evenings. And dulce de leche (milk caramel) tops off your meals with a sweetness almost too much for your tastebuds.
On a rare occasion of not enjoying the above we tuck into crammed full burritos and sit down to enjoy the meal accompanied by Argentine radio blearing out Rage Against the Machine. In the evenings, if not ‘enjoying’ Fernet (the Argentines national spirit, one of medicinal herby bitterness) we grab a jug of beer in a packed out smokey bar and converse in hand signals.
The Argentine people go about their days in a refreshingly untaxing manner, continually refilling their ‘mate’ tea from the flask under their arm, occasionally using one of the communal electric kettles someone has left out on the street for that very purpose.
BA, as it’s known locally, proves to be the most incredible city I’ve ever visited. One of utter contrasts – unfamiliar but instantly homely, unnerving but hospitable, a thick gray blanket with all the colour and variety you’d expect from a nation born from different lands.
