SUNDAY IN BUENOS AIRES
2010
Another
beautiful, and warmer, day beckons out outside. We walk through
Recoleta’s upscale residential area, imagining the apartments behind the
shuttered windows, eventually crossing the wide Av. 9 de Julio to
reach Plaza San Martín. We notice a large number of people waiting
patiently in a line circling an impressive gray palace, and later learn
it is the annual free visiting day to the French embassy. The streets
get progressively more run-down as we approach the Calle Florida,
passing the place on Maipú where the gallery was housed in the 50s and
60s. We stop for a ‘cortado’ - an expresso with a little foamy milk on
top - in a traditional café, and have a Blackberry chat with Victor, who
has now woken up in Rio. Then we head back across the Plaza, where we
are impressed with the size of the huge ‘figueira’, the branches of
which are so extended parallel to the ground that they have supports
under them. I remember Giovanna telling me never to plant those trees in
the garden, ‘They take over,’ she said. She may have gotten the idea
from this one, so close to where she worked. In the brilliant sunlight
the old buildings are mirrored in the flashier new towers, creating
interesting visual effects against the pale green buds of an early
Spring day. When we pass the French Embassy the lines are still as long,
and then we’re back in Recoleta, where elegant timeless men and women
pass us on their way to lunch, dressed in impeccably cut tweed jackets
and cashmere vests - so different from Rio de Janeiro.
Oswaldo’s friend Roberto and
his wife Gloria live in a lovely apartment, close to our hotel and have
invited two other friends, Daniela and her brother Gabriel, plus the
latter’s girl-friend, Sandra. They serve delicious ‘empanadas’ with a
different flaky crust and with several fillings, and rosé champagne. I
insist that they all speak Spanish, the ease of which comes at the cost
of having to listen to me form slow, awkward sentences in their
language. Still, it’s amazing how much I understand - thank you, Juan!.
But as always, when you learn a new language, there comes a moment, when
you cannot focus anymore - you need to rest your brain!
I can stay fully alert and concentrated for about an hour, but then it’s all over - at this point, anyway.
Sunday is the day to see the street
market in San Telmo, so we get a cab and are dropped in the middle of a
noisy throng of people, which stretches for many city blocks. There’s a
guy singing a heart-felt tango with a band, who catches our attention
immediately, and then we move on down the street watching the goods
being hawked and the many street artists, following the beat of
Brazilian drums from a group of guys, who, as it turns out, are walking
ahead of us. We end on Plaza de Mayo in front of the Casa Rosada, where
we get a cab to take us home. When we pass 9 de Julio, the line has not
diminished. It must be something really special!
After a long rest in the room we make a
reservation at another recommended restaurant, ‘Fervor,’ where we have a
wonderful dinner of grilled fish (Red Snapper and Mero, sorry) with
salad and ‘papas portuguesas’ and admire the very original chandelier
made of hanging cutlery with a sieve for a centerpiece. I’ve left the
camera at home and can only get it on my phone, alas.
Other photos are here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/siric/sets/72157630105789042/
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