Buenos Aires...

After crossing the wide estuary of the River Plate from Uruguay, Buenos Aires greeted us with a spectacular natural lightning show, and the heaviest downpour of our trip so far. This made catching a taxi almost impossible, and luckily, someone jumped out of one right in front of us after we'd waited almost 40 minutes. The Hostel El Firulete we had booked seemed clean and centrally located but at this point we were just happy to finally be in the dry.

The following morning we headed to a tourist office we had been recommended to take a 3-hour City Tour with. This was mainly so we could get our bearings a little and also take a look at the things we would be going back to see in more depth during the coming week. Showcasing outstanding public buildings, pink presidential palaces, beautiful European-style residences, and an artistic and cultural abundance, coupled with boroughs which have kept their traditions and customs throughout time in an attempt to preserve their roots, we knew that this was a city with style, and that we would need plenty of time if we were to experience it's many qualities.

After a pretty dull saturday night in the hostel, we decided to try our luck elsewhere for accommodation. We had heard good things about Millhouse, so we headed there to see if they had any room. In the reception area we got chatting to an English bloke called Sonne, who told us what a great place we were inquiring about and upon the arrival of his friends, invited us to go to the Sunday street market with them.

On a Sunday in the arty San Telmo district, the old cobbled streets are lined with sellers offering anything from jewellery and clothes, to old records and antiques. It´s a great place to spend the morning, browsing the many stalls and watching the live Tango Dancing shows in the square.

That evening we had booked to see one of Buenos Aires' biggest football clubs River Plate take on Colon. The atmosphere in the 80,000 seater stadium was electric, with one end swathed in red and white banners. The crowd did not stop singing, chanting, jumping and banging their drums for nearly two hours, despite the disappointing 1-1 scoreline. Later in the week, we spoke to a fan who stands amongst the hardcore "Fanatico's". He told us that generally they barely watch the game and just catch it on TV the following day. Would have been nice to be up there amongst it, but for safety reasons, probably best that we weren't.

And so we moved to Millhouse hostel the following morning. They could only give us a four-bed dorm, but we were pleased to discover (much to my amusement and Sarah's embarrassment) a guy called Kirk who we had met in our first hostel in Rio, fresh from the shower and vigourously drying his under-carriage. Re-introductions complete, we headed off to La Boca.

Regarded as the poorest area of Buenos Aires, the people here make up for their hardship by painting the houses in a multitude of bright colours and creating a real sense of community. Souvenir shops selling similar trinkets line the main block, while local artists and sculptors display their creations.

Boca is also famous for its football team and legion of devoted fans. Unfortunately, Boca Juniors were not due to be playing at home during our stay but we did take a tour of the stadium, and bump into Diego Maradona (one of their former players) who was coincidentally making a special appearance at the ground. Of course, we told him that we didn't like him very much due the Hand of God moment, but still had a snap taken with him for souvenir purposes.

The next day we decided to go to the Palermo area to see the Japanese Gardens and whatever else it may have to offer. Kirk and Catherine (our other room-mate) decided to tag along. We had a good day seeing the gardens and exploring the many boutiques, bars and restaurants. Nike Town have even got their hands on an old Sausage factory. On our return to the hostel, Tasha and Scott (an Aussie and Kiwi who we had also met in Rio) had arrived in town and were keen to go to an evening Tango show. We didn't really need asking twice, despite our less than appropriate attire options. We were greeted by a rather pleasant champagne and canape reception (tuxedo´s were in abundance while we lounged casually in our jeans and trainers), a two-course meal consisting of a fine fillet steak (what else?), all the red wine we could drink, and of course and hour-and-a-half long Broadway-style Tango show which was spectacular.

With our hangovers well and truly in effect, we took a tour of Recoleta the following day. Probably BA's richest area, this is where the famous cemetery can be found. More like a museum than a place of rest, this 14,000 acre site houses some of the most impressive graves you are ever likely to find, and although slightly morbid, is at the same time really quite an interesting site. Here you can find the tombs of Independence patriots, Presidents of the Republic, military heroes, scientists and artists.

Now full, you can only get into this exclusive club if you have family already spending eternity in one of the towering plots and many of the tombs have been exclusively designed by famous architects. Also in place here is the resting place of Eva Peron (better known as Evita), a heroin amongst many working class Argentinians because of her and her presidential husbands 'take from the rich and give to the poor' policies. She was moved here after her body was badly desecrated in its previous spots.

Whilst in the area we returned to see the giant flower made of aluminium and steel. Weighing approximately 18 metric tonnes and standing at 50 feet high, it was donated by the Argentinean architect Eduardo Catalano in 2002 at a cost of nearly four million dollars. The giant flower is moved by a complex mechanism that makes the petals open up with the first rays of the sun, and then close them again at dusk, when it is subsequently illuminated by 60 spotlights. A striking and original monument that many more cities should aspire to.

That night, some Irish friends of Kirk's (Gareth, an avid Spurs fan, and Stacey) arrived to see him off as he was leaving the next day for South Africa. We sat with them and competed in the weekly hostel quiz night, had a few drinks whilst getting to know our new residents.

Thursday consisted of a lazy day, and heavy party night, but somehow we managed to rise early on the friday for our pre-booked excursion to a traditional Estancia (Gaucho Farm). We quickly got chatting to a couple of Irish lads called Darren and Ciaran, and Helga, a nice Norweigan girl. First at the farm was an attempt at horse-riding. This was meant to be quite an exciting experience, but it turned out that my nag was either doped up to the eyeballs, or close to death, as it wouldn't actually accelerate past walking pace, much to the amusement of Sarah who was at the front of the 30-strong pack and competing for a placed finish.

After a stroll around the paddock, we all settled in for lunch and a Gaucho show consisting of some music and a crazy guy doing stuff with a whip. Unfortunately, our happy party was gatecrashed by Mitch, a 50-something Floridian, who we had already decided was a bit of a strange one after I had spied him scrawling some rather lewd comments (not suitable for blog publication) on a postcard whilst on the bus. He sat to my right, spitting copiously over me for the next hour, and even invited Helga back to his place for Egg-Plant. For some reason she decided to pass on this offer. Opportunity missed we thought.

After lunch it was outside for the finale. Basically the Gaucho's mounted their horses and galloped full-pelt at a hanging silver ring no more than 30mm in diameter. If successful in spearing the small hoop, they would present it to a lucky lady in the crowd, who in turn would give the heroic horseman a kiss. In other words, a rather elaborate pulling technique. Sarah was lucky enough to be chosen by a rather grubby looking chap, at which we all chuckled and made her kiss him again for photography purposes.

Once the show was over, and not content with their fill of blonde western women, the desperado Gaucho's invited the ladies for a full gallop. Again, Sarah managed to get involved, this time with a portly cowboy. Not one to miss an opportunity, he casually asked for her hand in marriage whilst on their little jaunt, but I think my asking price of five english pounds put him off enough to drop her back with me.

That evening we had arranged to go for dinner in the port area with a few of our friends from the hostel, but somehow word spread during the day, and it turned out to be a 35-strong crowd all rolling up to a pretty swanky looking restaurant at 10.30pm, the usual Argentinian dining hour. The management were more than accommodating however, and quickly organised four large tables. The wine flowed and with eating formalities completed (probably the best Fillet steak I have ever had for under 3 quid), we all moved next door to a trendy looking bar for cocktails. 2am soon arrived, usually the time that most Brits would be heading home with a dirty kebab, but this is when Buenos Aires nights begin to really get lively. The crowd still in tact, we all jumped into taxi's to go to Roxy. By this point, everyone was well on their way and the cheesy sounds of Bon Jovi, INXS and Erasure were just what the doctor ordered. We managed to roll in just after 7am a little worse for wear.

Somehow surfacing just before noon, we went with Gareth and Stacey to the market in Recoleta. Funnily enough, it was quite a slow day, with lots of rest stops and a little stint of lying lazily in the park. Obviously it didn't stop the beers flowing again that evening. As our final night got under way, we were given a good send off for our journey northwards the next day.

A cracking ten days all in all, and we were a little sad to be leaving this magnificent city and our new pals behind, but happy we would be seeing them again for Christmas in Sydney where we're sure we'll be doing it all over again, festive style.

Please check out my new website:
http://www.pwd-design.co.uk