As our stay in Buenos Aires lengthens we have been venturing further from our local neighborhoods. Thus, we have been spending more time on the subway and in trains. As in most subways and trains in large cities around the world, there is a variety of artwork and a variety of ways for citizens to hustle for a living. Immediately following are some photos of tile work.

As for the ways in which people find ways to make money, we have experienced very little outright begging for money. In the train stations and on the trains people sell: coffee out of thermoses; alfajores, the very popular sandwich cookie (similar to, but better than a moon pie); electronic gadgets; a variety of breads… Some of the entertainment has been quite good – a three piece band and singing; a young woman impersonating Michael Jackson. Riders are most appreciative, applauding each performance and some putting money in the hat. I was impressed with the young woman as Michael Jackson. She had a powerful speaker for the music and her dance moves were spot on. For each of the three songs I saw her perform she had something different to wear.

Overall, I’m stirred by what it takes to make a little bit of money. By the hutzpah and drive and necessity. I have had to hustle in my life; have worked more than one job at a time. But thankfully, due to a combination of good fortune and hard work, have not had to endure the daily grind and struggle for existence. We get to live a life of abundance. Even traveling as we are, modestly, our life style is beyond the means for so many in this world. Again, I give thanks daily, and sometimes moment to moment.

For my early childhood friends I include the following photo of the most minimilist playground I have ever seen. That’s it. Two swings and a climbing structure. I actually kind of like it for the use of natural wood. There have been families and children in every park I’ve seen, except this one. Of course, they have been in the city and this one is in San Isidro, away from the city center, but near the Rio de la Plata. There were relatively few people in general.

Enjoyed a rainy morning here and heard the loudest boom of thunder I’d heard in a while. My heart! Wishing you all peaceful and awakening moments. Paula

 

 

Tuesday, January 22, 2019

I’d heard that Uruguay citizens had the highest consumption of hierba mate in the world.  What was surprising was just what that entailed. Apparently, you must carry a thermos of water at all times, along with the bomba in which the mate is brewed, as illustrated by this young man. I’m sure there must be a mate elbow syndrome. After reading about the preparation of mate, Charlie and I have decided that life is too short, especially at this age, to learn the intricacies of mate. Besides, we don’t want to engage in cultural appropriation.

We took the ferry to Colonia del Sacramento, Uruguay yesterday. I love being on a ferry, watching land recede, the wake the boat leaves, and feeling the cleansing wind. Bye, bye Buenos Aires.

Hello, Colonia, with your diminutive Centro Historico. You were a refreshing change from city streets. We arrived around 10:30 and stayed until the last ferry at 9 in order to see sunset, as I’d heard it was spectacular. In the meantime we did what we do. Walk.

Initially we walked to find a place for breakfast. As I can get pretty selective about where to eat – I want atmosphere and ambiance – we walked a while. This ramble took us into the historic center and to the lighthouse which you can enter for a climb up and a view. That’s an option I always take for a different perspective. And for the breezes.

Brunch at Buenos Vientos on the water provided the longed for nourishment after a long morning fueled only by coffee before we left the apartment.

My ham, cheese, and tumaco sandwhich was one of the best I’ve ever had. It was reminiscent of our days on the Caminho. Tumaco is not a typo, it’s a tomato, garlic, olive oil spread which we first encountered in Spain and which I made a habit preparing long after. Accompanied by an atomic IPA, we had a long relaxing settle in. No through traffic has such a salubrious effect on the dining experience.

After a late night, an early morning, and a beer at brunch we found our way to the park you see across the water with the ram horn. We plopped down on the grass, under a tree, and immediately took a nap.

That ram horn is an art piece made of planks of wood. This area is the Centro Cultural Bastion del Carmen and was part of the cities early fortifications. It now houses art exhibitions inside.

I awoke from my nap just in time to see some young men disappear into the earth. When Charlie woke up we followed suit. A short stairway led us down to a cistern.

The rest of the day was spent in visiting the historic center and sitting in a park by a fountain. It was a good change of pace to sit on a park bench; to chat or be silent and listen to the water; to be entertained by children amusing themselves by running about, climbing on walls, and chasing pigeons. One little girl sounded like a pigeon herself as she chased them on her chubby little legs.

Sunset was too late to be viewed waterside as we had to be at the terminal one hour before departure – aduana and all that. But we did see it from the window, a brillant red glow that set sky and water afire.

More sky extravagances followed on the ferry back. Somewhere over some part of Buenos Aires an electric storm was jamming in the sky with jagged red lines of light and illuminating the clouds in a rosy glow. I’ve never seen anything like it and watched until it burned itself out. Not long after, a red moon rose above the horizon. The majority of riders were inside, probably glued to their phones. It pays to be outside.

To finish off the day we popped into Todo Mundo for dinner and salsa music. Arriving home after one in the morning, I crashed immediately and slept til 10.

Wednesday, January 23, 2019

More height! Today we visited Palacio Barolo which was recommeded by a woman we met on the subway. The architect, Mario Palenti, had the astounding idea to design the floor plan based on the cosmology of Dante’s Divine Comedy. You begin the tour in hell on the ground floor, ascend to purgatory, and finally climb up several flights of stairs to work your way into heaven at the uppermost level of the lighthouse. That’s up 22 floors, plus. The architecture starts off robust and ornate, then becomes more and more plain as the soul is purged. And now I feel compelled to read that darn Divine Comedy. Or maybe the Cliff Notes version. Have any of you read it? What say you?

That’s all. Paula

 

City life in a semi-tropical locale teems with life. People, cars, trucks, motorcycles, bicycles, airplanes, all weaving their way through earth and sky. Natural life is abundant as well. These soft and fuzzy seed pods begged to be caressed. I complied. Charlie warned me about all of the Do Not Touch signs at this Japanese Garden.

The Japanese Garden turned out to be rather a bust. These three photos (one above and two below) just about cover it. Oh, there was one waterfall, tumbling down a rock face, but so many people were posing for photos that it was not worth the wait. On the map in the Lonely Planet Guide it looked quite large. But that’s because it’s located within a larger park. I expected to spend a couple of hours happily wandering, sitting in the shade, admiring leafy bamboo and artistic ponds, bridges, and structures. It took about fifteen minutes to wander through. I made sure to walk every little path and cross each red lacquered bridge.

Ground cover in the form of these leaves took the place of grass in this park we repaired to for a more generous bit of green and space without people hustling by. 

I feel I should know the name of this tree. It is enormous; new leafs were unfurling all over it. Just nearby a swarm of dragonflies zoomed about, darting and dancing round one another, almost as though they were playing. I wondered what a bunch of dragonflies together might be called – a dithering of dragonflies? No, a swarm, it is. I did learn that the name derives from a myth that they were at one time dragons.

I’m really feeling the need to be surrounded by nature. Or at least be away somewhat from skyscrapers and people. I’ve often wondered what it would be like to live in city. Having not spent more than a week in any, I’ve felt I was missing some part of the experience. Now I know that, even in smaller and quieter sections or neighborhoods, I’m not cut out for it.

On the other hand, Buenas Aires is a craft beer lover’s haven. Brewmasters are brewing throughout the country. The IPAs have been great! Beer is also a bargain at 80 pesos a pint or about $2.20. The next two photos are from On Tap, located in the Palermo neighborhood.

Mural in the women’s bathroom painted by a local artist.

Coke has a new ad campaign in the BA subways.

La Poesia, one of the Notable places in BA for it’s age and charm. Not so much for its food. But the portions were generous.

And with this image, I bid you good night and sweet dreams. Paula

Yes! I spent the majority of the day listening to and speaking Spanish. We met Elena at the Retiro station. (We had shared a meal while on the Caminho Portugues en Caldo de Reyes and exchanged emails.) She doesn’t speak English – or very little. I really got to stretch my use of vocabulary and verb tense as we talked about a variety of subjects and I peppered her with questions as to the correct way to phrase something or pronounce or say something. For her part, she was very patient and usually spoke more slowly. Sometimes I would translate for Charlie, but mostly it was Elena and I chatting away. By the end of the day my mouth was tired and so was my brain.

Elena moved here from Turkey when she was 10. We went to her old neighborhood of Vicente Lopez to walk around. She had a great time reminiscing and even was able to show us her bedroom window from lo those many years ago. Vicente Lopez is a quiet, older area with many beautiful homes.

From here we walked to her current neighborhood of Olivos, not far from the Rio de la Plata which is so wide that you can not see the other side of it where it borders Uruguay. There is a. park running a good length of the river along with a bike path and a boardwalk. Elena pointed out the national flower of Argentina which grows on the cockspur coral tree, seen here:

From here we hopped on a train to Tigre in the Delta. Habia una muchadumbre de gente. Too bad I didn’t get a photo. But then one would not have shown the astronomical number of people who were there. But it didn’t matter because we pretty quickly boarded a boat (below) for a ride along the river. It was a glorious day of sunshine and breezes and crisp green – perfect to be out of the city.

We stopped at one of the islands, walked inland a bit and found a restaurant. I had an amazing pasta called Pinzottis. Made in house of a pasta colored with beet and filled with cheese, pecans and onions. A bit of butter and parmesan – wow! The setting was cool and quiet and altogether enchanting.

All along the main river, as well as the tributaries inland, there is an array of sweet homes that harken to the US south or to the islands in the Caribbean. Some people live here year round. It’s gotta be a slower paced life style. You’d be dependent upon the tourist boats or water taxis to get into town. It can take upwards of half an hour by river to get to the “mainland.” While it is beautiful and relaxing as a vacation spot – some owners rent their homes – I wonder if I would like a week of lounging in the hammock, sitting on the porch. And while some folks do go in the water, there are a tad too many boats for my liking – even on the tributaries. As a day trip, it fit the bill.

Elena and I awaiting the return trip.

To provide us some energy for the rest of the outing, Elena had us to her place for Turkish coffee. After that we went to a milonga under the largest gazebo, called a glorieta here, I’ve encountered. A milonga is where the local folk who love tango gather to dance. The movements are controlled, sensual, creative. All ages show up. And you can see the variety of dress.

 

It’s 2:12 here. We just went out to see the lunar eclipse. Beautiful. The three dimensionality of the moon really shows up.

Good night. Paula

As in feet. My dogs were tired today! I don’t know how much we are walking, but it’s a lot. As much as when we were on the caminho? On some days, for sure. And since I have a new phone and have not downloaded a pedometer app, we will continue to wonder. Checking  google maps I see that from our apartment to La Boca neighborhood, today’s destination, is 1.8 miles. Given that we never go straight to our destination or back, I’d say we walked at least 6 miles. Maybe more. We did have that misguided walk down the road to the stadium, from which we were directed to retrace our steps as walking through it to get to our destination was not an option. Sigh.

Below are some photos from La Boca – specifically from the restaurant we went to for our first Argentine al carbon meat experience, called Parriallada.The sell: It smelled so good! The location was off street, away from the super touristy area. It was quiet.

The reality: The meat was so-so. The quiet didn’t last long as a drum corps elected to descend upon a park about half a block away and regale visitors with non-stop carnival beats. Still: It is a pretty place and the price, while more than other options, was still not bad.

The Eco Park was open when we went by around 6 pm. Third time’s a charm, as they say. Closing time is 7, but we figured we better not pass it by. Lots of families and couples were there walking and biking. Down by the Rio de la Plata, a ribbon of tree lined parkway was balmy and host to many more people. Just as we arrived and I went to take a seat on a bench a guard came over to say, “No. No se suede sentarse. Es el horario.” Man! She was rounding up folks and shepharding them out.

As we all streamed out, walking along the wide path, I had an image of refugees walking. I imagined being tired and not being able to stop, as happened to the Jews. Then tonight I saw a post by a friend who is traveling in Columbia. She did see refugees walking – leaving Venezuela. I had a deep sense of gratefulness for the goodness in my life.

I’m having tech difficulties – photos not uploading tonight. I’m calling it quits for the day.

May you ride life’s up and downs and they not ride you.

January 20. My computer is cooperating this morning, so I’ve added another few photos. We saw our first street tango performance. It was a good one! Charlie was able to upload a video of these two. Do check it out. There were others at restaurants in La Boca, but they didn’t have the room these two did and were obscured by patrons.

President Macri apparantly has some policies that are not endearing him to many. Inflation is up. That’s about all I know of the situation. Something else to research.

Paula

PS Charlie also has some great photos. The phone app makes it much easier to upload photos. Maybe there is an easier way on the Mac, but I don’t yet know it.

Boy, did I have a shock today! I’ve been carrying a couple of post cards around for days, looking for a post office to buy stamps. Finally, recognizing that just walking around and looking for one was not actually getting me to one, I started asking around. Even then, spotting it was a challenge. It’s like it was incognito, fading into the background. Even the sign was small and insignificant.

Upon entering we dutifully got in line. A nice gentleman took notice of our obvious foreigness – and lack of package – and informed us we should take a number to purchase stamps. The wait was not long, but upon arriving at the window and ordering stamps, I was told to head toward the door and to enter into an office off to the side for stamp purchase. Which is really nice, actually, as it’s much quicker – if you know what you’re doing.

Now for the shock. Each postcard stamp cost $150 Argentine Pesos! That’s $4.00 USD! So, unless you are my mother, you won’t be getting a postcard. Oh, except for that very special friend who requested one. You know who you are.

Oh, and if you complain about the US Post Office, stop.

Today was a day to get oriented to other travel modes. We took the subway to the Retiro train station. We’ll be meeting Elena (met her on the Portuguese Caminho) there at 9 am on Sunday to go to Tigre, a river delta town for some quiet down time.

We found the bus station and picked up a list of bus lines so we can research which will be the best to take for our overnight trip to Mendoza.

And we made it to the Ferry terminal, called Buquebus. That is just weird to me. First because bus. Second, because Buque sounds too much like Burque.

We’ll take the ferry to Uruguay – for a day trip to Colonia del Sacramento and then again to Montevideo. Charlie might have written something different regarding these travel plans. Things are subject to change.

Back on the site seeing track, we went to Galeries Pacífico on the recommendation of friends to see the cupola and the Borges Cultural Center. The Galeries is basically a shopping mall, but in a beautiful old building. Aside from the cupola with the mural seen below, there is another glass cupola. We could see the clouds racing across the sky.

We don’t generally take too many photos of ourselves, but I couldn’t resist this one.

At the Borges, we saw a photo exhibition,  Korean Dreams, by Nathalie Daoust. Here is something about it that I found on the internet: “The difficulty of reconciling systemic violence and repression with this shiny world led Daoust to focus on the liminal spaces that exist on the edge of the ‘tourist zone.’  By shooting furtively while traveling between destinations she was able to capture an alternate narrative.  Guided by the notion that North Koreans are residing in a “dream-state,” where truth is not lived but imposed by those in power, her anonymous forms wander ghostlike through the landscape. From civilians bicycling against an urban backdrop, to military personnel marching stridently in line and schoolchildren staring pensively out of the frame, these figures seem to exist suspended in an ambiguous, timeless dimension.  Playing with the line between fiction and reality, Daoust exposes an indeterminate space where ‘truth’ and ‘lies’ are interchangeable.”

And here is a photo: 

I loved the other timeliness of these. Each photo is accompanied by a short description that I found very helpful for entering into the hi-story. I do wonder how it is she was able to be there. And I think she should never go back, for if the Korean government knows about this, she’s sure to be arrested.

Returning to our apartment I noticed a church with open doors. Friday night mass. You can see it’s sparsley attended. We have not seen nor been in nearly as many churches as we have done in Mexico, Spain, Portugal. Nor are the churches anywhere near as ornate. That’s something to research.

Here is my “art shot” for the day. Not that I’ve posted one a day. There are so many beautiful buildings. I spend half the time looking up and admiring them.

Hasta la próxima. Paula

 

 

Well, sort of…

We began our day with ramble through the Recoleta Cemetery, where Evita Perón is interred. Or maybe not interred, so much as stored. The cemetery takes up a good size city block and is chock-a-block with crypts, one after the other. Some are really big – housing a chapel as well as numerous caskets. There may be stairs going down to the subterranean level where more caskets are stored. Some are in a sorry state of disarray. The glass is broken. The plaster roof is falling in. The doors are open to anyone wanting to enter. That would be me. I guess family members have moved away or the line died out – or sorriest of all – maybe they just don’t care.

Here are a few. photos.

Say a prayer for the forlorn.

Recoleta Cemetery Skyline

This is one of the sweeter, more modern statuaries at the cemetery. I love the fresh flowers placed by her hand. Her name is Liliana Corciati de Szaszak. She was in Innsbruck, Austria 26 February, 1970. An avalanche hit her hotel, killing her. Her tomb was designed by her mother. She is depicted wearing her wedding dress. After her dog Sabú died, a bronze statue was added. Her father wrote a poem in Italian to her which adorns a dais.

Charlie and I wonder if Recoleta Cemetary is still in use. I haven’t been able to find that information. But I don’t think so. It seems there would be a website with that information so you could purchase your forever spot. No room, though. Maybe only families who already have a mausoleum – and who still have room – get to rest there eternally. If room is tight, there’s always the option of ashes in a box.

By the way, I did enter one of the open crypts. It was small. There were two wooden boxes. They did not open and they were afixed. Looking down through the open grate in the floor I saw at least 10 caskets, one stacked on the other in two columns.

We never did find Evita’s site. There is no map. We didn’t try that hard either. There was a sign directing visitors to former President Domingo Faustino Sarmiento’s mausoleum which included a wall loaded with plaques honoring him for his many contributions to Argentina, like founding the Naval Academy, for instance. Sarmiento is the only resident with a sign pointing the way to his abode.

Here is something I noticed about Buenos Aries today. Sometimes, in the middle of the city, it can get very quite. Like at Recoleta Cemetery. It was peaceful. The surrounding wall helps. But even when a major traffic artery is not far, if a park is on one side, it buffers the traffic tremendously.

I think that is all I’ll write for today. This closing photograph provides a glimpse of the old and the new and a swatch of green from one of the many parks in the city. Oh, the grass is so spongy soft!

What the heck is with that title?! We headed out between 11:30 and noon today, walking into soft sun and bright blue. Our destination: Galeria Guëmes for a view from the mirador on the 14th floor. The lovely gentleman from the convent had told us about it. Enter on San Martin and exit on Florida, he said. We walked to the end of San Martin and found there a tourist office. There we were told that Galeria Guëmes was back the way we had come about 9 blocks. Foiled. On the Oiled side, we found the hop on, hop off tour bus he also recommended. But now that we think about it, we figure we’ll walk to all those places anyway, so why take the bus? I think this lovely gentleman wants us good tourists to spend dinero. I actually think that is wonderfully patriotic of him.

We did get to the Galeria. The cupola you walk around is pretty small. It does provide splendid views of the city. And the breeze up there was just heavenly. I could have sat in the opening for hours just gazing and feeling that breeze. Of course, you can’t sit in the opening that high up.

Here is a photo from there focusing on a rooftop patio that looked appealing. See the white tents and lounge chairs?

And here is photo looking up at more of the spiral staircase – which is closed. You know I would have loved to get up that high!

While we were waiting for the Galeria to open we stopped in for coffee. When you sit at a table in a cafe, it arrives like this – on a tray, with water and a cookie. Sweet!

Actually, while we waited for the Galeria to open (at 3) we stopped for a bite and a drink – wine for me and beer for Charlie. Oiled. We stood at the counter instead of table service. For one, it’s easier to engage in conversation with others. A man next to us was tucking into something that looked delicious – and keto. “Milanesa”, he said, “muy bien.” His wife’s sister lives in Benjamin, Utah. He said it was beautiful – at least on Google maps! He complained a bit about inflation and mentioned that gas, electricity and water were expensive. Then he was off!

Next stop – the ecological park. We went on Monday, but it’s closed Mondays. Yesterday it was too rainy. Today it was still closed due to yesterday’s rain! Foiled. Here I am gazing up into foliage as I lie on a wall keeping us from entering the park.

Sometime in the day we passed through 25 de Mayo Plaza.

Anyone who travels with me knows that I love to enter hotel lobbies. They generally have something interesting or beautiful. This Hilton lobby did not disappoint. Plus it’s a great place to get money from the cajero automático.

We’re in early tonight. No plans for tomorrow yet! Except to call Elena whom we met on the Caminho in Calda de Reyes, Spain.

Tonight – I begin my new book in Spanish – keeping the computer handy for the dictionary. And I’m also going to research how to get the most out of the camera on my new phone.

All the best, Paula

HEY-O~

Another day, another 1 PM or so start time. Well, we were up until 2 in the morning last night. I find I rather like late nights and sleeping in for a change of pace. Why not when the day is open and the hours are fluid?

We walked a lot today. It took us a while just to get to the Ateneo Bookstore. Granted we took our time getting there, stopping to appreciate a park, a statue, some buildings, or to pop into a store for provisions we needed.

Below are a few photos of sites along the way to the Ateneo Bookstore. The first is a statue titled El Doute. The brillance of the white, the red, the green captured me.

The blockiness and strength of this statue and the surrounding architecture is slightly ominous to me, and also speaks of strength and purpose.

On the way to the Ateneo Bookstore I stopped into a shop to see if they carried a French Press. Not that I had any intention of buying one as we had resolved our coffee making dilemma by earlier purchasing a reusable cloth filter. I just wanted to see if it were available and how much it would cost. Sure enough, they have it – the press and 2 cups for $826 Argentine Pesos, about $23.00 USD. Not bad.

The clerk who attended to us was from Syria. He wants desperately to go to the USA. He told me that he wished we could put him in our luggage and take him with us. He’s been in Argentina for 3 years. He is a civil engineer. He understands that Trump has issues with people from Syria. He’d much rather be able to return to his home country and work there. I do wish I had asked him how he came to be in Argentina. How he left Syria. It was a moment of recognition of the benefits I have by birth; of gratitude for being a traveler in Argentina and not a refugee. He was sweet and polite. And within that, through the subcontext of his comments, I definitely heard the hurt and the longing for more.

So, the Ateneo Bookstore. What’s the big deal? Why do I mention this? It’s billed as the most beautiful bookstore in the world. Though I have also read that Livraria Lello in Porto, Portugal (which we did not see while there! more’s the pity) is also quite beautiful. At any rate, El Ateneo Grand Splendid is indeed quite splendid. It used to be a theatre. There is a cafe where the stage is. The box seats, logges (?) are still there and a few folks were comfortably settled in reading. The main floor has been leveled for housing books. There are several floors, the uppermost displaying some art work and the lowest level reserved for juveniles. I bought a book by Claudia Piñeiro, a native of BA. The cover caught my eye and I wanted a book by a female. I read the back cover and determined that this was the book for me. For one thing, it is a series of short stories and I figured it would be easier to manage than an entire novel. I’ll let you know if that is truly the case.

El Ateneo Grand Splendid

Notice the men holding up the balcony of the third floor. 

I learned from looking up the world’s most beautiful bookstores that Buenos Aires containes more bookstores per capita than any other city!

I think that a quest to visit each of the 10 most beautiful bookstores throughout the world would be a worthwhile endeavor. Venice, Netherlands, and Santorini – here I come!

We left the bookstore and headed to Growler, a cerveceria comunitaria that we had noticed along the way. Drizzle began to fall. I figured we’d make it there just in time before the deluge. We were trapped there for the better part of 2 hours. Not a bad place to be.

The rain did not cease and we wanted to make it to Pizzeria Guerrín, which we were told was a must. The rain pounded us. The stupid rain jacket got soaked through. My skirt was a sopping mess. But we were warm in our pizza bliss.

The rain stopped for the walk home and we were rewarded with this arco iris.

And with that, I bid you  sweet dreams. May you find your metaphorical pot of gold.

Paula

Okay, so although this is full day 1, as we arrived at our Air BandB yesterday around 1pm, today was again half a day as we didn’t leave our apartment util about 1 pm. I had a difficult time getting to sleep last night – over tired? – still too cranky to sleep? – too ornery to sleep? Who knows. At any rate, this morning, I slept and slept and slept some more. I finally got out of bed around 10:30. Maybe closer to 11.

Then came the coffee making experiment. Thought for sure that this apartment came with a coffee maker. That’s one thing we always check for on amenities on the air b and b website. However, no coffee maker here. So, I finagled a filter using paper towel. It was working great until the paper fell apart into the cup. Cowboy coffee it is – or a variation thereof. Just let those grounds settle and take diminutive sips so as not to disturb said grounds.

This led to a search for a method of making coffee. We started by asking for a place that sells a French Press. Naturally this called for some creative descriptions via words and drawings. While we were sent to a few places, none had a French Press. We ended up buying a small strainer. So, we’ll continue making cowboy coffee, but at least be able to strain it.

We also bought a knife sharpener. We have discovered that knives are dull in most rental situations. This knife sharpener is primo. It has both fine and coarse sharpener slots. AND it folds in half! Talk about a vagabond’s utensil ideal. We have determined that we will now travel with it. The strainer will also become part of our travel accouterments. After our last trip we’ve taken to traveling with a cork screw. These are important lessons, so take note.

After a very salty, but delicious kale omelette, we headed for points east – the ecological reserve park and the Jumbo store. The park for some nature. The store for the coffee press. You know how that turned out. The park was a bust, too – closed on Monday. We have plenty of time to return though so no worries.

Walking along I happened to see an opening that looked interesting. It was an entry into one of the oldest conventos of Buenos Aires, built in the early 1600s. We walked around a bit. Then an older gentleman came out of an office an offered to tell us a bit of the history – as long as we, or one of us – understood Spanish. He showed us an old map of the original size of BA, with the convent right there on the periphery. Like most large cities now, it was quite small as an original settlement.

He also told us of a place to visit: Galeria Guemes. It has a mirador on the 14th floor from which you not only get to view BA from above, but on a clear day may also see the coast of Uruguay. Tomorrow! Check in for pics and comments.

Note – convents, which I associate with nuns, were home to brothers – frailes. This is the same as in Portugal. I need to do some research on that. There are no brothers there now. There is a restaurant, a theatre (now showing War and Peace), and a bookstore. There is also a very peaceful and quite garden with jacaranda and camphor trees, flowers, and benches for quiet contemplation. I quite liked it there. There were also a few cats lounging about. I love to see cats, lounging about. It speaks to my own inner cat.

We visited a basilica. It was darker than most. I saw a man praying – using his prayer beads. I saw a women with her hands pressed to a glass wall of a cube containing a saint. She was praying. I saw a woman writing down her prayer on paper to leave for the saint to honor. I saw prayers written down on paper and placed within the saint’s glass walled cube. I sat and said my own prayer of thanks and gratitude and healing for close ones in need.

Supplications. I think it was Basilica Nuestra Señora de la Merced.

We sat and had a beer at Temple on the Rio Iguazu. It was a lovely place to relax and people watch as a pedestrian walkway ran just by the outside sitting area. Here are a few photos from that spot.

Okay, yesterday I said this did not seems so much like the Paris of South America. Today, I saw more evidence for that moniker. But it still seems more like Mexico to me.

However, here is a photo that brings Paris to mind.

It was a good day. I leave you with a photo from our window this evening. Moody, isn’t it? It was a moody night. We walked home in the rain from our dinner out at Bar El Federal, dating from 1864. Weather here is delightful.