Back in Buenos

Our time in Uruguay had come to an end and we needed to move on towards the west coast of South America, but not before returning to Buenos Aires for a three-day visit. The trip back to Buenos Aires involved a two-hour bus ride to Montevideo, a short stopover then another two-hour bus ride before taking the one-hour ferry to Buenos Aires. Moments before we were about to board the bus in Punta del Este, Ricky had a panic attack because he couldn’t find his wallet. After frantically searching through his bag and taking several years off his life, he located it, and only then did his heartbeat return to a natural rhythm. Jason’s comforting words were: “now you know how it feels.” Normally it's Jason having the panic attack and now roles were reversed. Has the world gone topsy-turvy?

Arriving at Puerto Madero in Buenos Aires late in the afternoon, we decided to walk the three kilometres to Moreno, where our hotel was located. As we weaved in and out of the back streets and up hills, we felt like we were participating in The Biggest Loser challenge, where contestants are required to carry all of the weight that they had lost. Except, we’ve put on weight so it was more like a future view of what will we become if we continue the binge eating and drinking.

The next day, we filled the day wandering around San Telmo and watching some tango dancing. We even ran into one of the young guys from our first visit in Plaza Mujica Lainez. Initially, we had believed that Francisco was Bolivian. We were certain that was what he had said. But it turns out that he's Brazilian with a Bolivian mother. No wonder we had difficulties understanding him. Good ole Goolge Translate to the rescue!

On our way home from Ricoleta, we crossed paths with a massive street protest. Trapped between protestors and angry motorists, we sat back and observed from a distance, waiting for our chance to continue on our path home. Many protesters came bearing flags, some displaying the image of Evita, others with drums and musical instruments. Everyone around us kept saying to us to be careful, pointing to their eye as a sign to look out for danger.

We weren't exactly sure what the protest was about. Maybe it was protesting about the wages of workers, particularly in light of the inflation rates of the country, which have almost doubled in recent times. Or maybe it had something to do with the former president, Kristina Kirschner, who is being prosecuted for embezzlement. There was even a call for her to be detained. The following morning, all of the TV channels were saturated with news and current affairs programs discussing the matter. We got glued to the TV, trying to make sense of what was happening. The other major news story related to the imprisonment of a woman who illegally injected people with botox and fillers. It was the same storyline of a crazy, Mexican telenovela that we have been watching. And we were hooked!

After pulling ourselves away from the idiot box, we caught a train to Chinatown, an area that we hadn't explored yet. We’d become like a local at this stage with Jason helping an Argentinian man touch on with his Sube train card at the turnstiles. The man seemed very grateful and started conversing with us and we had to explain we only spoke pigeon Spanish. In the end, we got our message across, parting as the train arrived. Like so many other Argentinians, he warned us to look out for pickpockets. Wandering around Chinatown, we stuffed our gullets to the brim as we grazed through the small area of Buenos Aires like cows in a paddock. The Biggest Loser contestants here we come!

Chinatown was the start of Ricky’s affair with buffet restaurants that charge by the gram. So much choice and so cheap! We ended up frequenting the same restaurant a few times during our stay, so much so that the Chinese woman who owned the restaurant recognised us. She got to know a little bit about us. When she asked where were from, her response to us was “oh, Australia. Very beautiful country”. She seemed to be one of the very few people in Buenos Aires who spoke English.

Our Spanish was put to the test when we tried to get our tickets to Mendoza printed. 'Cause buses don't accept electronic tickets. We think it has something to do with needing to be able to tear something, because that's all they do with it. But without a paper ticket you won't be able to board. First, Ricky asked about printing the tickets and we got directed to a different counter. Then it was Jason’s turn to converse. We all understood each other, more or less. In the end, we got our message across and got on-board our bus with paper tickets in hand.

Next stop: MendozaRead more