The 'Paris of South America': "Una botesha de malbec por favor?"

Flying in from opposite sides of the world, Roger and I reunited at the Tienda Leon bus station, Buenos Aires (BA). I was feeling pretty good, having achieved a Premium Economy upgrade thanks to AirNZ airpoints and eaten breakfast craning my neck to view the Chilean Andes. Roger had already been on a run through a park, lunched at an Italian and bought breakfast for our Airbnb, after arriving earlier on an awful Al Italia flight followed by long arrival queues. That night we took the subway to a steakhouse in trendy Palermo, where we had our first taste of HUGE Argentine portions andMalbec (although the maitre'D was unimpressed by our (in)ability to discuss the wine list in Spanish). We dashed back through the streets under a sudden, heavy rainstorm.

The next day we maxed out the BA walking tours. In the morning, the grand Parisien architecture, palaces, monuments and stories, particularly around history and politics. (Las Portenas (BA'ians): descended from Italians, speak Spanish, and live in a French style city with the airs and graces of English lords.) Our guide was quite outspoken, but presented the Falklands Memorial pretty evenly, which faces the mini 'Big Ben' gift from the English after WW1. 



After a salad bar lunch and icecream-flavour navigation in Spanish, we joined the Cementerio de la Recoleta tour - a highlight of the city that took us through crazy, ornate, grand, spooky and stylish crypts, from Eva Peron to a horrifying story of a young woman accidentally entombed alive, to a beloved wife killed in an avalanche and followed shortly by her dog (from unknown causes). 











Our Spanish was put to the test buying bus tickets to Cordoba, after which we needed a nap ahead of a colourful and sexy tango-and-dinner show. 

Leaving our bags at the bus station we thoroughly enjoyed the Museo Nacional de Belles Artes, from the traditional Argentinian religious inconography to bauhaus furniture. Lunch was a long affair in a little Mediterranean-feel courtyard cafe, with HUGE desserts that were probably the result of poor Spanish. 

We wandered through the Plaza de Mayo main square into the Puerto Madero area (having established the political history museum was closed), visiting a private art collection with some striking nudes and Antarctica photographs (in different displays). On the advice of a very helpful tourist info man we then pretended we were dressed better than we were, and took the lift up to the swanky bar in a high rise Puerto Madero hotel for sundowner drinks. Sun set, we scooted over to the bus station, wolfing down takeaway pizza ready for our overnight cama (bed) bus to Cordoba!