Buenos Aires

We reached the capital city with a sense of anticipation. From what we had read and heard, BA promised to be quite cosmopolitan with lots of sights and attractions, and we were looking forward to spending some quality time in one place.

We arrived from our long bus journey relatively fresh. The coach had been a "Cama Suite" which was basically like traveling first class on a plane. We had fully reclining seats and food and drink on tap. The added bonus was that we were able to sleep soundly, which is something that we´d been unable to do on our other bus trips. When we reached the bus station it was chaos. Rows of other coaches paved the avenue leading to the station, and we were gridlocked like this for sometime.

As we had arrived relatively early we were unable to check into our hostel, so we dropped our bags off and started our investigation of the city. Walking down one length of Avenida de Mayo from our lodgings we reached the House of Congress, which also seemed to be the backyard for quite a few homeless souls. The other end of the Avenue had much more appeal, with the Casa Rosada nestled amongst pristine green grounds. The "Pink House" was, of course, where Evita roused the crowds with her passionate speeches, and for some reason I spent the rest of the day humming "Don´t Cry For Me Argentina"..... Anyway, we walked though some more green spots, and then down the hustle and bustle of Florida Avenue, part of the main shopping area.

By the time we got back we were pretty cream crackered. It was then that I noticed that the front compartments of the bag James had been carrying on his back had been zipped wide open. It sent us reeling, and whilst we were checking-in I was frantically making sure that nothing was missing. Luckily they had not got into the main compartment of the bag (where our camera was) - funnily enough the wouldbe robber wasn´t that interested in screwed-up tissues and half a packet of chewing gum. We took this as a warning shot, and we were even more vigilant than we had been before.

Our hostel was in a gorgeous building with an antique gate lift and bags of character. It was very sociable with a dining area, as well as a roof terrace bar. We were also stopping with some great people, which really helped. We discovered that one of the girls in my dorm had had her camera stolen just the day before, and we had heard of attempted thefts from others. This well and truly shattered our idea that BA was a very safe city.

The second day was a pilgrimage to the cemetary where Evita was buried. It was like a smaller scale of the one found in Havanna (which literally has roads and mini houses). We completed the day with a walking tour suggested by Lonely Planet, which took us to sights just outside the cemetary, including a large metal sculpture of a flower, which closes at night.

Having decided that we weren´t living life dangerously enough, we thought that we would take a walk into one of the most dangerous neighbourhoods in the country on the third day. My friend had been held at gunpoint there just last year, but this had been at night after a football match. We had done our research and found that it was safe enough during the day, as long as we kept to the overrun tourist destinations and didn´t stray far. This payed off for us, as we were able to see the La Boca Junior stadium. We opted for a tour of the grounds, which gained us entry into the dressing rooms and the pitch - it was a far cry from the plush facilities at the Emirates or Wembley. Still, there was a real atmosphere to the place, which was helped by the crazed fans who lived in the surrounding houses, which were all painted blue and yellow. One was blasting out La Boca anthems, waving his scarf and singing his lungs out.

In the afternoon we took a stroll into a pretty little part of the city called Caminito. The cobbled streets were lined with brightly-painted, corrugated houses. The touristy part was riddled with touts trying to entice you into their restaurant with a promise of tangos shows (which they had outside anyway - the average passerby could see). There were also local artists selling their work, most of which were gawdy and obtrusive. After this we hopped off the bus a few stops early and wound our way through the markets and antique fairs of San Telmo. It was here that we found the most divine, aromatic peaches ever to have been grown on the planet (can you believe I blogged it!).

That night we had quite a few beers on the rooftop bar. The chatter with our fellow travellers was as free flowing as the alcohol, and before we knew it, it was 4am.

Our penultimate day in BA saw us taking a trip to the suburb of Palemero. We were both hungover from the night before, so took it easy by having a picnic in the shady benches in the botanical gardens. This was followed by a most informative and incredibly interesting walk around the Evita Museum (our knowledge of this icon is no longer sourced from Mr. Lloyd-Webber).

Although we promised ourselves an early night, the rooftop bar drew us like a moth to a flame...well, it would have been rude to have left our new found friends all alone up there... We were slightly more well behaved, and managed to crawl into bed an hour earlier than the night before.

Waiting around on the final day was tough. We knew we had to leave, and so didn´t want to wander too far from the hostel, plus the searing heat rendered us near helpless. We said our goodbyes to everyone, and left for the station, which was even more meyhem that when we had arrived. The multitude of people was baffling; everyone walking with such a sense of purpose that it was hard not to get swept along. We almost missed our coach, despite getting to the station over 45mins early, as we hadn´t realised that Puerto Madryn was only a stop off and not the final destination. We had 17 hours to calm down from the confusion, and were relieved that we had made it.