Though I vowed against such long journeys before...
It’s been a while since I’ve admired a good sunset, but today that thirst was met from the window of a twenty hour bus from Buenos Aires. It was the first time that the Argentine sky truly took my breath away and a moment might actually be up there with one of my favourite evenings so far. I have found myself in the middle of the Argentinian countryside on a relatively comfortable 20 hour bus to Puerto Iguazu. I have a window seat, a chair that reclines almost into a bed, a TV playing Bridget Jones and air-conditioning. Like any countryside journey - in almost any part of the world - the farm and forest land, trees and cows could easily be placed in any country I’ve been so far. To my left the entire open sky is illuminated by a huge burnt orange setting sun, perhaps the largest I’ve seen so far. I can almost feel the heat through the bus window as everything is illuminated in the golden hour. As the night begins to creep in, the last rays of this immense sun turned bright red as the whole landscape erupted in the warm glow of dusk. To my right I welcome the sight of forests of palm trees, full of noise and life, as I edge into the sub-tropical, humid Northern area which frames the top corners of Argentina. Seven hours into my journey and it’s in place to be the best bus journey I’ve ever taken in my entire life. Whilst also serving as a reminder of the immense size of this continent, the element of comfort that I have found myself in outshines all of my England Megabus experiences and reveals perhaps another western hint to Argentina. Because flights are so expensive here, it is incredibly common to use coach services and everyone is more than happy to endure the incredibly long journeys. For 1’500 pesos (probably predicted as my most expensive bus trip because of the touristic destination) you can purchase a ticket at countless counters in the city of Buenos Aires. I’ve become incredibly efficient at packing my backpack in the last fourteen months and it took almost no time for me to wave goodbye to Buenos Aires. As the sky begins to turn a pink and purple hue, my adventure now truly begins. I am alone and my plans only stretch as far as the next 24 hours. I look forward to the language barriers, hurdles and lessons that will come my way. But first, onto Iguazu and it’s waterfalls. Although the driver is yet to take a rest, we have made several stops along the way to pick up extra passengers. At each of these stops the street vendors leap on and attempt to offer you some cheap, sweet treats. At 9pm we were also served dinner on the bus of traditional Argentine snacks and at 11pm the lights were off and everyone began to snooze. It is the first time I have endured a long distance journey and actually managed to sleep the whole way through. It was certainly time to leave Buenos Aires. Though the last three weeks have been wonderful, I was burning a hole in my wallet by surviving in the city. What is more, is that after three weeks I finally knew my way around, could jump on busses and walk in and out of suburbs with the utmost confidence of direction - I was comfortable. It is at this point that I have trained myself to recognise that comfort demands a reassessment of your trip, a shake-up. .
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The best food in Buenos Aires
What I really should say is that the heart of Buenos Aires is a place of ultimate indulgence. I am pleased to experience it, but I am also relieved that Buenos Aires is the first stop on my list and I have enough money to spend here with the knowledge that onward cities will be kinder to my bank account. I can’t deny that the inflation which sees prices hiked every year is staggering and leaves food and alcohol with a price tag that is more expensive than London (despite wages not being raised at the same rate). And yet the favourite pastime for the majority of Argentinians is eating late into the night with friends. Enter the Asado. Roughly translated as barbeque this staple plate of food is more or less a pile of tasty, succulent meat such as steak and sausages taken straight from a grill (known as a Parrilla) and is the traditional way of cooking here in Argentina. The ritual takes many forms and can be found occurring at the side of dusty streets in the Buenos Aires suburbs on plastic chairs and paper plates, right up to high end restaurants in the city. And what unites all of these asados is the universal knowledge that the quality of the meat is beyond anything you have ever experienced - and I can certainly vouch for that. Of course we embarked on a quest to find the most authentic hole in the wall food option and after an extensive search, set our hearts on ‘El Litoral Parrilla’ located in the small suburb of Balvanera. The unassuming place has the combination of an utmost local and vintage feel. In this tiny compact corner, the vintage painted signs, plastic chairs and family of elderly waiters hark back to a different era and allow for a real experience of good, hearty Argentine food. The bright orange inner walls add to the hint of a Latin American vibe amidst the backdrop to harsh kitchen lights yet the queue still lingers out of the door at all hours (a true sign of it’s quality). It was 10pm and the night was just getting started as children and parents chatted alike to the backdrop of a sizzling grill. The £5 bottle of wine was flowing and our food quickly arrived (it was basically meat stacked on even more meat). What was wonderful about this setting was that the air was warm and smelt like food, and the ambience of sharing a happy moment with friends was spread across every table in this vast maze of diners. Each dish was shared, all the wine was passed around the table and if you cast your gaze in any direction down the street you could count more than a handful further Asados occurring. The asado to share cost us 220 Pesos, which when roughly divided between two diners cost around £5 for a huge pile of grilled steak, sides, bread and of course wine. The food was as incredible as the atmosphere, yet as a queue of people waited to be seated we decided to quickly allow for the next lucky diners to take their place. It was around 11.30 before we had finished food and even thought about beginning pre-drinks (pre-boliche as they say here) before partying until daylight. It seems like I’m finally beginning to blend in with the locals here. Motorchorros and being unlucky in Argentina
It could’ve happened to anyone, anywhere. It doesn’t matter whether you’re male, female, old or young, a victim of crime is often simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. You hear such stories everyday and it does nothing more than make you question your ever dwindling faith in humanity. I’ve had friends robbed in London, jumped at knifepoint in Manchester and I will never forget the day that thieves tried to steal my mother’s bag from right outside our very home. The point being is that it happens and I was unlucky enough to become a victim in the heart of Buenos Aires. However with fourteen months of travel under my belt, I guess it was about time that something gave me a reality check. To establish the scene for you it was a gloriously warm morning as I was walked downtown from my residence in Caballito. With its beautiful buildings, elderly, families and posh cafes it is certainly a wealthy area (the Chelsea of Buenos Aires) and remarkably safe throughout the day and at night. My morning ritual involved an hour long stroll to work, buying fresh fruit along the way and listening to what I’d chosen for today’s Spotify theme as Britpop through my headphones. The traffic lights had turned to red and as I briefly waited at a crossing I pulled out my phone to check the time. In that very same moment an unassuming motorbike with two passengers, like the million other bikes in this city, neared the pavement and I took a step back to allow more distance from the busy traffic. In less than a heartbeat and with one swift movement the bike passenger had lifted my mobile out of my hand and the pair of thieves were sped off before I even had the chance to finish the Pulp song I was enjoying. My initial, inner reaction told me that it was an accident (perhaps my better nature getting the better of me altogether) yet this quickly crumbled as I watched the bike speed off, leaving my phoneless. The pedestrians around me shook their heads, muttered something in Spanish and then continued on their lives without giving me another thought as I had no other choice but to continue walking. It was as if in a dream that I considered what I had lost in that brief second such as photographs, phone contacts, banking apps, social media and the entire management of my life from my pocket. And as the reality loomed over my morning it dawned on me that the first point of call was to quickly begin cancelling everything. My plans of a blissful morning of fruit, sunshine and music had quickly turned into sheer anger and frustration. I’d acknowledged that the phone was lost forever, of course my insurance company kindly informed me that I was not covered for theft of that nature and I was told not to bother with the Latin American police who have much larger crime to be fighting. Yet I did have a mini triumph. With modern technology being so wonderfully (and scarily) advanced, I had the power to log in through my laptop and completely render the phone useless whilst also deleting its entire contents - and even leaving a message for the phone thieves, which went along the lines of ‘You S*** B*******!). My attempt to stick two fingers up at the ‘Motochorros’ as they are known. And with that, the event quickly passed and I was left with no choice but to replace the two year old phone with a new one and continue on my journey with a little less cash. It’s a difficult situation to address. I am constantly reliving the moment over and over in my mind and of course wondering how I could’ve handled the event differently. Yet despite my regrets I was lucky that they didn’t reach for my bag, lucky that they didn’t touch me and lucky they didn’t pull out a weapon of some sort. The ordeal was so quick that my account doesn't even sound that bad, and it leaves me with the thought that events of this nature certainly happen for a reason as I now tighten my security and safety for the rest of the trip. They must’ve really needed the phone more than me. They must’ve really wanted to use my Tinder more and of course they must’ve really been looking forward to getting frustrated with how the device tended to freeze every time you did anything. Buenos Aires still remains one of the safer locations on my journey and nothing will stop me from loving this city entirely. |
Tamara DavisonNepal, China, Malaysia, Australia, Argentina. Archives
November 2017
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