Buenos Aires - Full Speed Ahead

Well, we are definitely jet lagged - we had to roll the boys out of bed at 11:00 AM, and they certainly could have slept longer. Factoring in the time change, it was only 7:00 AM Alberta time, but they had gone to bed at the equivalent of 8:00 PM the night before - so no excuse for such sloth! Just goes to show how the traveling really takes it out of you.

After a nutritious breakfast on the patio, we jumped in a taxi and headed down town. We started at Plaza San Martin, where a beautiful park surrounds the requisite heroic representation of some famous general who contributed to Argentina's tumultuous history.

We set our sights on a cafe recommended by the Lonely Planet guide book and headed down Florida Street, one of a few pedestrian-only streets in the downtown area. Apparently yesterday, 8 December, is the feast day for the Virgin Mary. Tradition in Argentina is that this is the day when you decorate for Christmas. We had found that the streets were not so crowded as today and many of the shops were closed for the holiday. Not so today! The cab ride was a toe-curler, as Argentines manage to squeeze 6 lanes of traffic into any 4-lane street (not counting the motorcycles, which weave into any remaining space), and the sidewalks were jammed! Considering that they all take a whole day off to decorate, the decorations are decidedly low-key. Oddly enough, the prevailing symbol of Christmas is the Christmas tree, even though the majority of the country is either semi-arid plain or jungle, neither of which support coniferous forests. There are no real pine trees around.

As mentioned before, the streets are jammed. According to the girl where we had a small coffee-and-chocolate break, Brazilians are like the Americans of South America- brash and plentiful- and make up the bulk of the tourists here. Canadians are relatively rare, and are known for being from that cold place to the north of the USA. There is not as much going on in the streets here as we had come to expect from our experience in Mexico, with just a few street vendors and performers among the crowds. The fellow in the photo below was doing the "human statue" thing. While Bowen was putting a donation into his collection box, he started to move, which gave Bowen quite a start!

We found a really cool antique arms shop, which had the most amazing collection of quirky pieces, like a double barreled, 20-shot revolver. Considering the continent's history of tin-pot dictatorships and shady history with Nazi Germany, it was not surprising to see how much Nazi regalia there was, along with cutlasses, bayonets and muzzle loading rifles.

Liz was impressed by the decoration at the submarine sandwich shop and wanted to include a photo of its frontage. It competes with the pirate-themed pub that has put similar effort into its decoration.

We made our way from the better-heeled portion of town to the bus terminal, in order to prepare for the journey to Mendoza. That was definitely a step down, and much more like Mexico. The sidewalks were crowded with vendors of all manner of "stuff". A pickpocket made an attempt at Liz' sling pack, managing to get the main zipper opened as he brushed past her from behind. Luckily, Hollis noticed and managed to warn his mom. The fellow that did it was talking on a cell phone at the time, and we conjecture that he may have been working with an accomplice who, if the zipper slip had not been noticed, would have moved in shortly afterward and cleaned out the pack. We feel like fully-accredited tourists now, having been marked so by the local petty criminals.

Supper at a very lively little place that served cheap beer and pasta rounded out the day before another toe-curling cab ride home. We are completely bagged out after our day on the town, and slightly mystified by the fact that someone had obviously been inside our place while we were out. Nothing was taken, so apparently their intent was not criminal. We assume it was somebody from the property management company, but even that seems strange in light of the lack of notice.

-Remy