¡Bienvenidos a Buenos Aires! Part Four

Introduction: The moment my Uber driver pulled over in front of my Airbnb and I set foot on the bustling streets of Buenos Aires, I was struck by an overwhelming sense of excitement and anticipation.

This blog is a continuation of the time I spent in one of South America’s most beautiful cities. I hope you continue this journey with me and enjoy reading about it as much as I loved living it. As always, thanks for reading.

Day Eight

I accompanied Shawn on his afternoon errands so I could get out and explore the city. While he shopped for protein powder, I stood on the street corner and watched the world go by.

To the naked eye it could have been any corner in any part of the world with traffic backed up at the light, an ambulance threading its way through the intersection with flashing lights and blasting siren, and with people hustling along the sidewalks to places only they knew, but for me, there was something extraordinary about this place. Something authentic.

I was in Buenos Aires, the “City that never sleeps” and although I love to sleep, I knew I could still make this place my home and be happy here.

Panqueque de dulce de leche

When Shawn finally emerged from the store, we continued our walk. Eventually we stopped for dessert at Las Petunia’s, a casual restaurant not far from our apartments. Panqueque de dulce de leche (a blini with dulce de leche) for me and a brownie with vanilla ice cream for him.

The thick, sugary caramel-like dulce de leche sauce was smooth and tasty and satisfied my sweet-tooth, but with all the alfajores I’d eaten – and continued to eat through the remainder of my trip – I should have been more concerned about diabetes, but I wasn’t. At that moment, my only thought was not letting any of that delicious blini go to waste!

Along with the few places I wanted to visit, my itinerary also included eating a lot of food. I lost some weight before my trip, because I knew I was going to return home fatter than when I had left. However, I gained just 3 lbs. during my trip, a lot less than expected, but my walking 5-6 miles a day probably helped keep my weight gain to a minimum.

The food and drink scene in Buenos Aires has exploded over the past decade and I had a list of popular foods I wanted to sample, like empanadas and dulce de leche. By the end of my stay, I would have eaten all the food on my list several times over.

Shawn and I at Las Petunia's.

However, there is so much more to this beautiful city than the food. I told myself I would share those photos too, however, that night when Shawn and I went to dinner at Dandy Grill, what did I do? Post more food pictures on Facebook, but how could I not? The tender steak with cheese and caramelized onions was so good!

I thought I was getting good at ordering food in Spanish, but when I attempted to say “carmelizado” I completely butchered it. I couldn’t form my tongue properly to roll the “r”. I’m not even sure how I pronounced it, maybe something like, “carmel-lia-lizardo” but the waiter, Shawn, and I had a pretty good laugh over it.

During the day, the energy of the city was more controlled with people moving with a purpose, however, at night the mood was joyful and light as people enjoyed drinks and a meal together. Almost every restaurant had some form of outdoor seating along the sidewalk. Often, you had to walk through the middle of the tables to get past, and for that brief moment, you became part of the festivities.

As the sun set, I heard the city coming alive.

The clinking of silverware on plates, the din of conversation, the occasional outburst of laughter, even the rev of a motorcycle or car horn made me feel connected. Even though I was a stranger and couldn’t understand their language that was okay, because there was something intangible, but pure, about it. Not only did that make me feel as if I was a part of it, but that I also contributed to it somehow. 

As I walked alongside Shawn in the dark, trying hard not to trip over the uneven pavement, I wondered if anyone could see my euphoric spirit burning bright in the night.

Day Nine

I went for a walk.

Not a big deal, but this time I did it alone, so it was a big deal for me. I had built up such a fear in my mind that I was terrified of doing anything by myself, but I needed to. I wanted to experience the city as only I could, and I did! 

Knowing that I could go out, walk the streets, order food, buy groceries, and exist in a foreign country gave me such a confidence boost.

However, since this was my first time exploring by myself, I stayed within my neighborhood and practiced crossing streets. That seems silly, but here, pedestrians don’t have the right-a-way. Even when the figure of a running man lit up to signal it was safe to cross, it wasn’t. Cars still drove through the crosswalk whether I was walking there or not. I didn’t just have to look ‘both ways’ like how I was taught as a child, but in every direction imaginable. 

My head was on a swivel and by the end of the day, my neck hurt.

Pedidosya, food delivery similar to GrubHub and Uber Eats, is done mostly on motorcycles and bicycles. Sometimes they jetted in the wrong direction down the one-way streets because it was quicker than driving around the block, so I never knew in which direction traffic was coming. Even standing on the sidewalks wasn’t safe as motorcycles often hopped the curb to park in front of the restaurants in which they were picking up the food.

Many of the smaller intersections didn’t have signal lights or stop signs. Whichever car reached the intersection first, went, and everyone else had to yield, but that didn’t always happen. There was a lot of honking horns and near misses. So, imagine trying to dart across the street where cars don’t even stop for other cars!

After a trying hour of crossing streets, I stopped at Almacen Pizza (Pizza Warehouse) for sustenance. I ordered in Spanish and surprisingly, the waitress understood me. There weren’t any difficult words I had to pronounce while ordering pizza. No surprise, the pizza was good with eight slices of four different kinds: Neapolitan, arugula with Brie, ham and bell peppers, and asparagus with hard-boiled eggs.  Although my friend Christy didn't consider it a "real pizza" when she saw the photos on Facebook. However, authentic or not, it was delicious!

Pizza at Almacen Pizza

One of the things I noticed, and enjoyed while eating out in Buenos Aires, was that the waitstaff never made me feel rushed. Every dining experience was casual with the waitstaff giving me a menu and then not returning to my table until I signaled to them that I was ready to order. I could sit and enjoy my food for as long as I wanted and when I was finally ready to leave, I’d signal for the check, and they’d bring it.

In the United States, I’d often be seated at a table that was still wet from cleaning after the last diner, and I’d get the check before I was even finished with my meal. It was all about getting as many customers through as possible in the shortest length of time, but in Argentina, it was about enjoying a delicious meal and having an overall good dining experience regardless of how long it took. I appreciated that attitude and gave much bigger tips than I normally would have done.

The Milanese sandwich
was one of my fav meals!

Later that night, around 7pm, Shawn and I went to Carnico Grill for dinner. It was a small, open-air café with a roll-up door that exposed the entire inside of the restaurant to the outdoors. I ordered a Milanese sandwich. It was much better than the Milanese I ate with Alejandro at El Club Milanese several days prior. A short walk after dinner to enjoy more of the nightlife, although there wasn’t much because it was still a bit too early. It was about 8:30pm when I returned to my apartment.

Day Ten

Feeling confident from the previous day’s excursion, I ventured outside my neighborhood and walked to Alto Palermo Shopping Mall, over a 1 ½ miles away. The sidewalks were crowded with pedestrians, and I fell in line with them feeling very much like I belonged.

I had hoped to meet some locals and tried to make eye contact and smile at those I passed, but no one paid me any attention. Maybe it was because they had places to be, since it was during the noon hour, and didn’t have the time, maybe I blended in and looked too much like a local, or perhaps nobody cared about the lone American woman walking through downtown.

Whatever the reason, I was happy to be swept up in the midday crowd. 

Alto Palermo is one of the most prominent urban shopping malls in Buenos Aires. It opened in 1990 and features 190 retail stores and a food court with seating from more than 700 people. It had lots of high-end stores, like Swarovski and Versace, with prices that mirrored those in the United States. There were many big-brand stores, like Columbia, Vans, and Oakley, that I recognized, but a lot of smaller specialty stores I’d never heard of.

Observation: They don’t use plastic straws. While at the mall, I bought a coke at McDonalds but wasn’t given a straw. At first, I thought it an oversight, but as I looked around at the other people, none of their drinks had straws either. I’d rather have no straw than those disgusting tasting paper straws some places give out back home, so I didn’t mind drinking straight from my cup. Imagine how much unnecessary waste would be saved from the landfills if all straws were discontinued?

The women of Buenos Aires have style, and it was very easy to determine their societal status by the clothes they wore. I, on the other hand, felt, and probably looked, ridiculous in my flannel shirt. I can’t recall seeing any other person wearing flannels during my trip, except at the airport in Houston, but I didn’t have much in the way of light-weight clothes, so I wore what I brought. Note to self: next time, leave the flannel shirt at home.

I am horrible with directions. 

Even using the GPS on my phone, I took a wrong turn when I left the mall. I finally realized I was going in the wrong direction, but it was such a beautiful day (71-degrees, sunny, with a cool breeze) for a walk, I didn’t care. If I got too lost and strayed too far from my apartment, I could call an Uber and they’d take me home. Because of my misdirection, my casual walk to the mall turned into a 6.69-mile trek! I’d taken over 17,000 steps for the day.

For dinner, I picked up some baked empanadas to-go from Brozziano, an empanada place only a few blocks from my apartment which quickly became my go-to place during my trip. I tried several different kinds, but ham and cheese were my favorite.

Alto Palermo Mall

My cute flannel shirt!

Delicious empanadas.

The trees lining the sidewalks
are beautiful.

¡Bienvenidos a Buenos Aires! Part Three

Introduction: I enjoyed a deeply fulfilling three-week stay in Buenos Aires, Argentina, and plan to share a series of posts about my experiences. I'm debating how much of my daily life to include, as binge-watching Netflix might not make for the most thrilling read. However, this blog will serve as a personal memory archive, so I aim to document as much as I can. You're welcome to browse through or, even better, immerse yourself in every word and join me on this adventure.

Day Four

Prior to my trip, I made a short list of places I wanted to visit while in Buenos Aires and Jardín Japonés was one of them. I loved exploring the city on foot, but Alejandro and I decided to take an Uber instead of walking the 1.75 miles because today was the first of several 80-degree days to come. Even when the temps were moderate - in the low 70s - the sun still blistered and drained me of energy and motivation.

Buenos Aires has a temperate climate with hot and humid summers with frequent thunderstorms while winters are cool and drier. Spring and fall are transitional seasons and characterized by changeable weather. Since Buenos Aires is south of the equator, the seasons are opposite to those in the United States. As Utah was coming out of a sizzling summer and moving into autumn, Buenos Aires was entering into a blossoming Spring.

At the Japanese gardens there was a pond with koi fish surrounded by lush greenery and paths winding through a variety of plants and flowers. 

Although it was a nice spot to spend a hot day, I thought it was similar to other Japanese gardens I've seen and wasn't anything spectacular, although I loved the strands of colorful origami cranes hanging from the ceiling inside the exhibition building, as well as some of the artwork. 

Jardín Japonés (Japanese Garden) in Buenos Aires encompasses about five-acres and has both native Japanese flora as well as South American plants. 

It was designed and built by the Japanese community in 1967, and then donated through the Embassy of Japan to the Municipality of Buenos Aires in gratitude to the Argentine people for being the country that opened its arms to them in times of immigration.

Strands of origami cranes 

The entrance fee for non-residents was $4,500 pesos ($4.57 usd) and $1,500 pesos ($1.52 usd) for Argentine residents. That's quite the difference in price from the $16 usd entrance fee for the Japanese Garden in San Diego County (where I used to live). Although it's more expensive, I like the garden in San Diego better because it is 12-acres and more "Zen", but it was nice to experience the garden in Buenos Aires to see how they compare.

The queue around the souvenir shop was chaos.  There were no lines and people crowded forward willy-nilly to reach the counter. I waited patiently to be helped, but was ignored as other people came up behind me and loudly called for the clerk’s attention.  There was no way I was going to be noticed by silently standing there, so the next   time the clerk passed, I hollered at her and pointed to a string of origami owls and   said, “Quiero el verde,” but she reached for the wrong green one. I wanted the light colored green and she grabbed the dark one. 

Alejandro pointed to the one I wanted, but she didn’t see him because he was lost in the crowd. Another woman, also waiting at the counter, pointed to the one I wanted. She spoke Spanish to the clerk to ensure I got the right one. I thought that was a very nice gesture and she smiled bright when I thanked her, gracias, in Spanish. 

I noticed no matter how bad my Spanish was, people appreciated that I made an effort. It was presumptuous of me to assume they spoke and understood English and even if they did, Spanish is the official language of Argentina so it is what I should be using. Besides, I've always wanted to learn another language, so what better way to learn than to become immersed in it. 

At the gardens is where I saw my first Hornero, the National Bird of Argentina. Horneros are brown birds with rather short tails and long bills. They build mud nests that resemble old wood-fired ovens. In fact, the Spanish word “hornero” comes from horno, meaning “oven.” I would have liked to have done more birding while I was there, but, although I heard birds, I didn't see too many of them in the city. Besides, I didn't have a guidebook or a camera with a good zoom lens to take photos. I did see ALOT of pigeons though, for they have taken over the world. 

A long sleeve shirt was not the best fashion 
choice for such a hot day!

From the gardens, we walked down Ave. Pres. Figueroa Alcorta towards the Planetario Galileo Galilei (Galileo Galilei Planetarium), but it was closed so we continued walking and found a quiet place under an arbor covered with purple wisteria vines to eat lunch. We ate leftover empanadas and drank mate for which I have developed a taste. Mate was a bit bitter for me at first, but a dash of sugar made it taste much better.

Mate is a traditional South American drink made by steeping dried leaves from the yerba mate plant. In Argentina, mate drinking is deeply ingrained in the culture, promoting a sense of community and connections among people. The ritual involves using a hollowed-out gourd and a metal straw, and it is often shared among friends and strangers as a symbol of hospitality and warmth. During one of the days when I was out sightseeing with Alejandro, we stumbled across an outdoor market and Alejandro bought me a mate cup.

I often saw groups of people sharing in this tradition, even in the airport when I was departing. Most had their own mate kits which consisted of a cup, straw, and a thermos of hot water in a leather case. I even saw a few places that offered hot water to refill thermoses. At the Japanese Gardens, there were many groups relaxing and sharing their mate. 

President Domingo Faustino Sarmiento opened Parque Tres de Febrero in 1875. The park was named in honor of the Battle of Caseros that was fought on February 03, 1852. This battle led to the defeat and exile of Argentine president Juan Manuel de Rosas, whose lands were confiscated and used to create the park.

At Parque Tres de Febrero we wandered through rose gardens and watched paddle boats on a small lake. We stopped again to take a reprieve from the hot sun and share a bottle of cold water. It was a great place for people watching. The park was full of families and people rollerblading, biking, playing soccer and having fun. I don't know what I expected, but the scene was reminiscent of every park in the United States, and most likely in parks around the world, however, I couldn't stop smiling.

**

Day Five

Alejandro and I spent most of the day wandering the streets near Plaza Serrano searching for street art. I was captivated by every piece regardless of whether it covered the entire side of an apartment building or was a small collage of stickers and stencils.

Street art in Buenos Aires began as a form of political expression during the military dictatorship in the 1970s and 1980s. Activists used graffiti to voice their dissent and resistance. Over time, this evolved into a more diverse expression of street art, blending social commentary and politics with abstract art. 

"Dona sangre, Dona vida"
Donate blood, Donate life

With the laxed laws regarding street art, artists usually only need the property owner’s permission to create beautiful masterpieces on the sides of buildings and houses.

On almost every building or wall was a piece of art, from spray-painted graffiti to elaborate murals covering entire buildings. Wandering the city and discovering these murals was a highlight of my trip. In hindsight, I wish I had taken a guided tour to learn more about the artists and the history behind these magnificent works of art. 

The below mural is titled, "Mural de Los Suenos" (Dream mural) and serves as a backdrop to Plaza Luna de Enfrente, a children's park in Palermo Soho. It was painted by Guido Palmadessa featuring a small child reaching for a flower, meant to represent the process of immigrating to Argentina. Palmadessa was born in Buenos Aires, but currently lives in Berlin. His paintings focus on the social component of art and can be found in Portugal, Germany, Italy, Spain, Croatia, Mexico, Bolivia, Chile and Argentina.

Murl de Los Suenos

A wall along a narrow street is covered in posters and
a poster of soccer player Lionel Messi's face. Messi, born in
Aregentina, is one of the world's top ranked soccer players.

**

Day Six

After the last few days of sightseeing under a brutally hot sun with Alejandro, I woke up tired, irritable, and in need of a rest day. After sharing more mate with Alejandro, and then saying goodbye (he was headed home), I spent the rest of the afternoon in my sweats, watching Netflix, and eating alfajores. I used the quiet of the day to reflect on the last few days and to reenergize for more adventures to come.

I love the vibe of Buenos Aires.

As soon as I emerged from the airport and breathed in my first breath of Argentinian air, life surged through me. My spirit was happy, invigorated and inspired. After each day of wandering through the city absorbing its personality and filling myself full of delicious foods, I told myself I was going to cancel my return flight and stay another three weeks, or maybe not leave at all. I was content and satisfied with my life in those moments and that's exactly how I had hoped to feel when I traveled to Buenos Aires. I wanted to feel alive, and I did.

This store was just down the street from my apartment.
I'm not sure what kind of store it was, but I thought
the front colorful and interesting.

Otilia, a colorful bar near Plaza Serrano.

**

Day Seven

Exhaustion usually follows after a long flight, but the excitement of being in Buenos Aires staved it off for a little while, however on day seven, it finally caught up with me. It doesn't help either when my neighbors blare their crappy music until 2am and then converse on their balcony until 4am. Even with earplugs, I heard almost everything and couldn't get a good night's rest. 

I slept until 10am. 

Stuffed ravioli with rabbit.

It was a lazy day as I washed some clothes in the sink and binged-watched the latest Bridgerton season on Netflix. There was a washer and dryer in the basement, but I couldn’t figure out the instructions, even using Google Translate. I bought two washes online (for $1 each) and then scanned a barcode to connect to my phone, but it wouldn’t work. 

I don't know if it was because I was in a concrete basement and couldn't get a signal or if it was operator error, but at the time I tried to figure it out, I was impatient and irritated. It ended with me slamming the washing machine lid in frustration and yelling, "fuck!" rather loudly. I didn't attempt to use the washer again and instead, washed a few items by hand in the sink and hung them on my balcony to dry. 

By evening, I was in a better mood and ready to eat. 

Dinner time in Buenos Aires is late with some restaurants not even opening until 8pm. I usually don’t like to eat after 6pm and am in my pajamas by 8, but being in Buenos Aires, I had to alter my eating times. However, tonight, Shawn and I were having an early dinner (at 5pm) because I was hungry and didn't want to wait until later. 

At Andante Restaurant I noshed on raviolis con conejo confitado (rabbit ravioli) and had Chocolate Terrine for dessert. The food in Buenos Aires is delicious and very affordable. After my near-death experience (yes, I know, I exaggerate) of exchanging money at the cambio, I would put the cost of our dinners on my credit card and Shawn would give me his share in pesos. So much safer.

After dinner, we took a short walk around the neighborhood which was becoming our nighttime custom. Buenos Aires has a vibrant nightlife and for most people, the evening festivities were just beginning, however, for me, my day was coming to an end and I was ready for bed.

El Club de la Milanesa Restaurant - where I had 
dinner with Alejandro on Day 5.

The view from my table at El Club de la Milanesa.

¡Bienvenidos a Buenos Aires! Part Two

Introduction: I spent a soul-satisfying three weeks (September 24 - October 14, 2024) in Buenos Aires, Argentina and will be making several posts about my adventures. I’m not sure how much about my daily activities I’ll include because some of my time was pretty boring and spent binge-watching Netflix, but months from now when I’ve forgotten the details, this blog will help me to remember, so I want to include as much as possible. Please bear with me and feel free to skim ahead or better yet, read every written word, and go on this journey with me. 

Enjoy and as always, thanks for reading.

Day Two

When it comes to eating while traveling, I want foods indigenous to the region and that reflect the culture in which I’m surrounded. I was eager to try the cuisine of Argentina, however, my first meal was a simple salmon bagel with cream cheese at Dulce Charlotte Tienda, a small café just a block from my Airbnb in the trendy Palermo Hollywood neighborhood. 

This meal was more out of necessity than anything else. The in-flight dinner of pasta was disgusting, and the breakfast of yogurt did little to appease my appetite, so by the time I reached my lodging, I was famished.

I met up with Shawn who had already been in Buenos Aires for a month. He was staying in an Airbnb just around the corner from me. The courtyards of our apartment buildings abutted so we could stand on our balconies and holler at one another.

Shawn and I sat at a little table on the sidewalk enjoying the warm rays of the midday sun while catching up on each other’s lives. I’ve known Shawn for close to 25 years but have not seen him in almost six. 

After our meal, we took a short walk along tree lined streets with uneven sidewalks. It was the perfect introduction to Buenos Aires.

Alfajores & Drinks

Palermo Hollywood earned its nickname due to the numerous TV and film studios that established themselves in the area in the mid-nineties. It’s currently known for its concentration of restaurants, sports clubs, cafés, and vibrant nightlife.

Later that evening I officially met Alejandro. Alejandro and I first met online about four years ago and have been texting ever since. Along with seeing Shawn, meeting Alejandro was also a factor in why I was visiting Argentina.

Our first date was casual with us having drinks and sharing alfajores at the stylish Von Berry House Cafe. I have been studying Spanish on Duolingo for almost a year, but I floundered when I tried to put it to use in the real world and since Alejandro’s English was worse than my Spanish, we relied heavily on Google Translate for our conversations.

Alfajores are traditional Argentine pastries made with two soft and crumbly shortbread cookies with dulce de leche sandwiched in between. They are often coated with chocolate or sprinkled with sugar.

**

Day Three

For breakfast, Alejandro and I shared egg and ham croissants (another not so authentic meal) at Nuevo DaAccordo. I practiced my Spanish with the waiter and was relieved when our food arrived, and it was exactly what I had ordered! Perhaps, it was my pointing to the item on the menu that he understood and not my Spanish, but either way, it encouraged me to try and speak the language more.

We rode the subway to the San Nicolas/Monserrat neighborhood and I'm glad I was with Alejandro.

Standing on the subway platform

The subway was crowded, grungy, and like most subways, had those less desired in society begging for money. Most likely, I would not have attempted riding it on my own but did enjoy the experience. I felt like a local as I sat among the other passengers.

The Buenos Aires Underground, or Subte as it is locally known, is the first underground railway in Latin America. Its first line opened in December 1913 making it the 13^th underground system in the world. The system now consists of six lines with about thirty-five miles of routes serving 90 stations.

At one point a teenager walked through the subway car with small boxes of food, maybe candy or cookies, and he placed one on my knee as he passed. If I wanted to buy it, I would have obviously given him money, but I didn’t and put the item on Alejandro’s knee instead. As the boy made his way back through the car, he retrieved the box and then waited for the next group of passengers before doing it all over again.

I saw this done numerous times during my stay. It was even done to cars at intersections where something would be placed on the windshield and then retrieved before the light turned green. 

During one of my walks around Palermo, a young man had strung up a rope across an intersection and was walking it like a tightrope. He was juggling fire for money, but I caught only a glimpse of his performance as he had to quickly take down the rope before traffic started moving. I thought that approach was creative as opposed to just standing on the corner with a sign asking for donations.

From the subway station, we walked through Plaza de Mayo, taking in the sights such as Casa Rosada.

Casa Rosada

Casa Rosada (Pink House) with a monument to Christopher Columbus in front, is the president of the Argentine Republic’s official workplace. Officially, the palatial mansion is known as Casa de Gobierno, (House of Government.) The house is considered one of the most emblematic buildings in Buenos Aires.

Buenos Aires developed outward from Plaza de Mayo, a historic square where Argentinians have protested and celebrated many of the city’s most important events and where, from the balcony of the Casa Rosada, Argentina’s leaders have addressed the country. All distances on national highways are measured from the zero-kilometer point in the small square. The Pyramid of May marks the center of the square, and it was constructed to commemorate the first anniversary of the May 1810 revolution when Buenos Aires severed ties with Spain.

I noticed that while we were sightseeing, Alejandro spoke to random people who I thought were other tourists, but they weren’t. They were representatives of cambios, or unofficial money exchanges. The blue market rate is generally higher than the official exchange rate and Alejandro was asking them what their rates were. At the time of this writing, the official rate was 985 pesos for every $1 USD.

When he found one with a better rate than the others, we followed the representative to where the money would be exchanged. As we were led down an alley towards an unmarked door I was immediately on high alert. I had no idea where we were as we entered a building and got into an elevator with a stranger.

My heart was beating fast as we exited the elevator and went into a small room. The man who escorted us sat by the door, like he was guarding it. We approached a window with Plexiglas separating us from a second man who was on the other side acting like a bank teller. I put a $100 bill on the counter as did Alejandro, but the man sneakily replaced my $100 bill with a $1 bill.

At first, I thought he was asking if we had another $1 so he could make change. This happened to me in Russia when I exchanged USD for Rubles. They wanted a few extra dollars to make an exact exchange so they wouldn’t have to give me coins, but this man wasn’t asking that. He was trying to cheat us and told Alejandro he’d given him only $101 and not $200. I couldn’t understand what was being said, but knew something bad was happening by the tone of Alejandro’s voice.

And I thought we were about to get robbed.

My Garmin watch has a Live Tracking feature that I would activate while out sightseeing so my friend Isabella could keep track of me. My thought was that if something happened to me, hopefully she would be able to locate my watch to at least give the police a starting point for their search in finding my body.

I sized up my opponent by the door. 

Most likely, I wouldn’t be able to overpower him, but maybe I could deliver a kick or two to his groin (Nutcracker! IYKYK), which I hoped would be enough of a distraction for us to escape. There didn’t seem to be any other way out except through the same door we entered. I wasn’t going to be an easy mark and was ready for a fight, but eventually our money was exchanged correctly, and we were escorted back outside.

After it happened, I was angry. How many times had they pulled this swindle? And how many times did they get away with it? Although I was ready to throw down, I also had Alejandro with me, but what about those who were alone? Or didn’t speak Spanish? Or weren’t confrontational? There was no sense in calling the police either because what could they do? And I didn’t know how corrupt the police were so maybe that would make it worse for us. 

When we were safely outside and I knew that we were going to live to see another day, I laughed because now I had a fun travel story to share with those back home, although when I told my mom, she didn't find it so entertaining.

Drinks at Cafe Tortoni

After our scary encounter, we headed to La Junta de 1810 for empanadas. Nothing like a delicious empanada to calm the nerves. Further down Avenida de Mayo we stopped at the iconic Café Tortoni for drinks.

Café Tortoni opened in 1858 and is well known for its 1800s Parisian-style appearance. It was once the go-to place for Argentina’s elites and has had many famous visitors, but now it’s more of a hot-spot for tourists.

We crossed the Puente de la Mujer, where I saw my first glimpse of Tango dancers, and watched the sunset along the Rio Darsena Sur.

Puente de la Mujer is a footbridge designed by Spanish architect Santiago Calatrava and the design is a synthesis of the image of a couple dancing tango. It opened in 1998. Many streets in the Puerto Madero district have women’s names, thus giving the bridge its name that translates to ‘Woman’s Bridge’ in English. 

The tango originated in working-class districts of Buenos Aires. The music is derived from the fusion of various forms of music from Europe. The words "tango" and "tambo" were initially used to refer to musical gatherings of slaves, with written records of colonial authorities attempting to ban such gatherings as early as 1789. In 2009, the tango was added to the UNESCO Intangible Cultural Heritage list.

Puente de la Mujer

Tango dancers on the bridge

Sunset along the Rio Darsena Sur

¡Bienvenidos a Buenos Aires!

Regarding travel, I have grand visions of traveling around the world with no definitive plans and enjoying moments as they come. Slow travel: a deliberate, unhurried approach to exploring destinations is what I want to do. And in my visions, I am a free spirit, soaring beyond the boundaries of my comfort zone with no hesitation or fear and living my happiest life.

So, when an opportunity to travel sort of like that presented itself, I excitedly embraced it. However, a brief time later, seconds really, the fearful part of my brain reminded me of who I am at my core: a woman with low self-esteem who is frightened of the unknown.

Once I acknowledged my self-doubt, it blossomed and consumed me. For weeks I struggled. The internal battle raged between my anxious, overthinking self and the self who yearns to have amazing experiences and live spontaneously.

Should I go on this trip or not?  

Sadly, I decided I was going to let this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity pass. I didn't have faith in myself, but when I shared my thoughts with a friend, she asked me what it was that scared me. Good question. What was I afraid of? I didn’t have an answer other than I lacked confidence.

I love Isabella. We have known each other a long time. She has traveled to faraway places and travels for months at a time around the United States in a van with her dog. Her opinions matter so when she called me out on my bullshit reasoning, I listened. 

With her encouragement and a reminder that I wouldn’t truly be alone as our mutual friend, Shawn, would also be in the city, I realized how ridiculous I was being. Although I was still hesitant, I bought a non-refundable plane ticket so I couldn't change my mind again, as well as booked a non-refundable stay at an Airbnb.

¡Bienvenidos a Buenos Aires! Welcome to Buenos Aires!

**

I sometimes look for signs of whether something is meant to be or not and when my flight out of SLC International Airport (with a layover in Houston) was cancelled, I wondered if perhaps this was an omen. I’m no maintenance technician, but apparently, it’s a big deal when the in-air collision sensors on an airplane malfunction. 

At first, the flight was delayed about 20 minutes, then we were allowed to board and just when everyone got settled into their seats, we were told the flight was cancelled and got kicked off.

I stood in a long line for about an hour waiting to find out my fate. Other passengers were booked for flights departing later that day, but flights to Buenos Aires were limited and I would have to wait until the next day. 

The United Airlines clerk assured me I was booked for a 1pm flight so I returned home (thanks Kip for the pickup) and started my pre-trip preparations all over again. However, when I arrived the next morning to check in, I wasn’t booked for anything!

Could this be another sign?

Nope.

Within 10 minutes, although it seemed like an hour, I was rebooked correctly and sent off through security to find my gate. The roughly 10-hour flight went smoothly, and I landed at Ezeiza International Airport at 8am on Thursday, September 26, 2024. I didn’t know it then, but this trip would change me. 

Somewhere during the next 21 days, I found a little thing called confidence.

Sidenote: When the plane landed in Buenos Aires, there was a bit of a tussle in the back of the plane and I heard many of the other passengers saying, “Hey" over and over. I turned around and a younger man was roughly grabbing the front of an older man’s shirt. The older man held up his hands in surrender and with an accent exclaimed, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry.” His wife had already made her way up the aisle and asked me if she could pass. Why? Because they were trying to make their connecting flight and wanted to be one of the first passengers to deboard instead of the last. In English, the younger man then said, “Let him pass,” and let go of the older man. I couldn’t tell if he was American or maybe Australian, but I thought, "Great impression he’s making if he’s American.” (Insert eye roll). Eventually the couple got to the front of the plane without further issue. I hope they were able to make their connection.

Sidenote: Marcos, my Uber driver from the airport to my Airbnb, didn’t speak English, but we were listening to Kenny Rogers on the radio, and he knew the words to the songs! Using Google Translate, I asked him about his taste in music. He said he also liked Lionel Ritchie. Music truly does cross barriers and connects people for on the way to Palermo we hummed along to every song.