High altitude had gotten to me. I was in South America in
the middle of summer and I was cold. How preposterous. I needed the heat of the
sun, nice sandy beaches and good-looking women. The previous two weeks I’d
spent in the mountains of Peru and Bolivia and nary a single gorgeous woman was
to be found. Hell, I’m just gonna go ahead and say it: the indigenous
population of southern Peru and Bolivia are not pretty. You could even say
they’re ugly. But that’s a strong word.
At 6am Andrew and I hitched a cab to the airport. Little was
said between us, as we were both tired and slightly hung-over. The first flight
was an experience unto itself. The plane was at least twenty to thirty years
old and you entered from the back. Not from the side…the back. As in a
stairwell descended from the tail and went up to the center aisle. I took my
seat in the next to last row and shortly before takeoff, was asked to move
seats. There was hardly anyone on this flight. I didn’t understand a word that
was said to me, but I understand the idea of weight distribution on an
airplane. This was a big enough plane that it shouldn’t be necessary. Whatever.
Flying is still the safest mode of transport.
We take off and as we begin to climb the plane banks steeply
to the left. Normally I have no qualms about flying. However this was on a
whole new level. I’d never experienced an immediate bank after takeoff and I
could feel a twinge of nervousness creeping into me. The woman across the aisle
whispering Hail Marys and the dude next to me with his kung-fu grip on the
armrest didn’t help calm me either. But I’m here writing this so clearly the
flight went okay.
The plane landed in Santa Cruz barely twenty minutes before
my next flight was scheduled for departure. Andrew was on a later flight so I
said a quick goodbye and took off running to get through customs. Little did I
realize it would be the last time I’d see him.
Upon arrival in Buenos Aires, I was greeted rather
pleasantly. There was some mix-up at the hostel and they weren’t able to put me
in a six-bed dorm like I requested. Instead they put me in a single room for
three nights. I had a double bed and a shower all to myself. For the first time
in a month I had a little bit of privacy. These are the things you miss most
when travelling for so long.
I had no idea what to do or where to go, so I did what felt
most natural. I signed up for a pub-crawl. The nightlife in BA doesn’t start
until midnight and doesn’t end until the sun rises. Which is exactly what I
came back to: the day’s new sun. And if I’ve told you what happened this night,
consider yourself lucky.
The next day could hardly be considered that. Waking up at 3
in the afternoon basically creates a half-day. Therefore instead of spending my
daylight hours doing touristy stuff, I did absolutely nothing in preparation
for another pub-crawl. I’d planned to be in BA for a full week, I had plenty of
time to see the city. It was the weekend. I wanted to experience the nightlife.
The early hours of crawl were uneventful. Then we jumped on a party bus to a
club the likes of which I’d never experienced before.
This place was absolutely massive. From what I can recall,
it was titled something in Spanish that meant rooms, or something along those
lines. It was aptly named because there were plenty of rooms, seven to be
exact. Each more packed than the previous and each playing a completely
different style of music. One of the rooms even stretched out onto the patio
and out towards the sea. Complete with lighthouse in the background. If I had
to guess there was well over 3000 people there. But I got frustrated with the
whole thing fairly quickly.
1. I
don’t speak Spanish, so the ability to chat up the Argentinian ladies was
limited.
2. It
was far too crowded, so dancing was out of the question too.
3. The
drink ordering system is fucking stupid. You get in line for the cash register
to order your drinks and get a ticket. Then you get in another line to take
your ticket to a bartender. This completely defeats the skill of hailing down a
bartender. Which is just that. A skill.
After a few hours I was done, so I went back to my room.
Super Bowl Sunday was the main reason I came to BA when I
did. If you’re going to experience the big game in a foreign country, you’re
best served being in a large city with a high number of American ex-pats. I had
caught wind of a bar called El Alamo (get it?) that would have the game. I
grabbed a Canadian from the previous nights pub-crawl and we went and watched
the game. Amusingly enough, he played in the CFL. I spent the next seven hours
doing what every good American does during the Super Bowl.
Monday was spent moving out of my single room and back into
a six-bed dorm. Then it was wandering around the city for a few hours in the blistering
humidity. The highlight of my day was in the evening when I finally caught a
showing of The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo. I quickly realized if I were to
hear anything, I’d need to sit up front. The theater was old and the clicking
of the film reel could be heard all throughout the room. I also have a suspicion
that the dialogue tracks are brought down some for foreign subtitled films.
That or the sound was just turned down in this specific theater.
Four days in Buenos Aires and I hadn’t done a single
touristy thing. So the next few days were dedicated to travelling the tourist
route.
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