Sunday, January 12th, 2025

Let us start today’s account with an extract from an old quotation by no less a person than Benjamin Franklin: “For want of a nail, a shoe was lost”

There is more to that quotation, of course, but typing is not really my forte, so if you want to know the rest of it, try Wikipedia.

It is thought to refer to the unfortunate English king, Richard III, whose loss of a horseshoe at the battle of Bosworth Field, in 1485, is said to have cost him his horse, the battle and his life in that order. He spent the next half-millennium lost from view, some of it under what became a car park in Leicester.

Now, we had not lost a nail, I did not bring one in case it caused trouble at customs, nor, in fact, had we lost anything. The quote above really refers to the fact that a seemingly tiny thing might have a disproportionate effect upon what comes next.

Our “nail” could have been the charging cord for Lucie’s iPad …..

In the very first part of all this blab, I said that the weight of all the electronics, without which the modern traveller scarcely dares to set foot outside of his front door, was a little over three kilograms. In our case that comprised two iPhones, two iPads, two e-readers and the plethora (let none say “bird’s nest”) of wires and associated plugs needed to keep them all charged. Thanks to Apple and EU legislation, many of these are interchangeable, which had cut down the number – but which had now given us a significant problem. Apple devices (God bless them), are designed to be a little sensitive to anything non-Apple and Lucie seemed to have left her OE charging cable at home. We had one that fitted and which charged everything else with the same socket. However, it would not charge her iPad and, naturally, all our holiday information now lurked behind its blank, unblinking, screen. In any capital city, a new one should be readily available – but it was a Sunday – and Argentina is a VERY Catholic country …. Oooops ! Our first task that morning, was to try and find an electronics shop, run by heathens or maybe even Protestants

We had breakfast in the small cafe that was attached to the hotel – and, after my “accident” in New Zealand, Lucie eyed me nervously as I made my toast. This anxiety was communicated to the extent where I made my little sandwiches with bread that was scarcely warm, let alone brown ….

Fortified, but still nervous, we headed out to an area called Florida. On the Avenida Florida there were (allegedly) some shops that could help us. Of course, when we got there, they were all quite resolutely shut – and with no sign that status would change anytime very soon. It was time for plan B.

This involved a trip of some distance to a shop specializing in ‘phone and tablet accessories. Clutching our Metro card we descended into the depths of the B Line which, unlike its Prague counterpart, had a “Red” designation. We emerged into what can only be called a dubious area and, when we finally located the address, it was an office, not a shop – and it was closed. That made it time for Plan C, except we did not have one …..

Lucie is a pragmatist. Just because we were thwarted, did not mean that our explorations had to stop too. Off we marched in the direction of the, errr, Maracana football stadium.

It is time for a confession. I do not know why, but I was so convinced that the Maracana was in Buenos Aires, I had not even checked. So, when Google maps stated that it was 2456 kilometres away (and would take (an optimistic) 23 DAYS to walk there, I was more than a bit surprised. The Maracana is, in facy, in Rio di Janeiro in, err, Brazil … The day was not going well !

The Maracana aside, I did know, with 100% certainty that the world famous football club Boca Juniors was based in Buenos Aires. Google helpfully verified this, indicating a distance to the La Bombanera stadium of only about five kilometres. We set off on foot toward Boca, which would take us back through San Telmo.

Almost immediately, as we ambled along the Avenida Corrientes, we spotted a small shop that
a) said Electronica, and
b) was open.
More in hope than in expectation, we crossed the busy road. Lucie’s Spanish was, truth be told, a little rusty – but nonetheless she was able to communicate her needs to the slightly startled staff. In less than one minute, we had a cable that worked, they even let us try it before we bought it ! She was thoughtfully carrying both the dead iPad and a powerbank – and she practically skipped out of the shop. I might point out here, that the cable was NOT Apple OE, but it worked – and it cost less than four dollars US. We would happily have paid ten times that amount, had an Apple shop been open.

To say that Lucie’s mood was lightened would be to understate the case. I do not suppose that she had ever heard of Boca Juniors, but now she was practically scampering towards their stadium. The first thing we saw was the obelisk that had been pointed out by our taxi driver.

We had all day, so we were going to walk it and, as I mentioned, Lucie had chosen a route that would take us through the San Telmo quarter. This was where we had been the day before, but slightly to the west of that route. I will point out here that, being in the Southern Hemisphere, the sun is in a relatively different place and that all our ingrained navigational maxims go straight out of the window. Thank God for Google Maps (although Lucie tends to use the Czech App Mapy).

It was lunchtime and I was pretty thirsty so, when our ambling took us past a cutesie little cafe with a vacant outdoor table, we grabbed it. The waitress must have spotted we were not local and greeted us in English and conjured up an English menu. We chose an iced coffee for me and a hot one for Lucie, together with a salad to share. Whilst the “share” part seemed to perplex the waitress, it was the right choice, because it was BIG ! We had, at least, learned from the previous day, Argentinian portion sizes are large. Remember that if you ever go there.

Off we went again, initially in the wrong direction (the sun thing again) but we soon corrected and continued our relentless trek to the south. We crossed San Telmo “proper”, it is a trifle Bohemian and would probably be where we would choose to live, if we absolutely had to live in Buenos Aires. In truth, outside of the Micro-Centrum, where our hotel was and the broad Avenidas of the area slightly to the north of that, the city, in general, was pretty run down. There was a general air of long-term neglect and quite a pervasive smell of urine. The roads were mostly OK, but the sidewalks were cracked, uneven and rutted. Accident-prone people (like me, for instance) needed to watch where they put their feet. There was a lot of litter and rubbish too. Municipal rubbish bins ARE provided on every block, but if people do not seem to use them and just chuck stuff in the gutter, what can you do ? There was also a fairly conspicuous police presence. It was very high in “touristy” areas and outside the Pink Palace (the Argentines love to let their president know how they feel), but it was a constant everywhere. Whether this was because of street crime or to prevent it, I cannot say.

Our southerly route-march bought us through San Telmo and under a highway, where there was a large market. We emerged into the evidently much poorer area of Boca where the stadium was located. The streets were subtly, but noticeably tattier and there were a lot of homeless people asleep in nooks and crannies. Oddly, although I automatically stationed myself behind Lucie’s right shoulder, where her little rucksack was, there was no air of threat or danger.

We came to a rather lovely park, the Parque Lezama – and crossed it diagonally. The trees were alive with squawking parrots, which seemed to comprise much of the city’s bird life. On the winding, shaded paths, there was a large flea market. The ideal place to come if you only had one leg and needed a single shoe, if you get my drift. The market became quite large at the bottom end of the park with more substantial booths – although neither of us could work out who on earth would want any of the things that were on offer there.

South of the park was a really poor district. It is amazing that it is so easy to spot this, but it was a comparison that was easily made. Again there was no air of threat and, believe me, that was a poor neighbourhood. Strangely, there was another park, drier and with sparser vegetation, but well laid out and thoughtfully equipped. Towering over its southern end, was the blue and yellow facade of the La Bombanera stadium, the home of Boca Juniors.

The clever use of fencing meant that it was impossible to get right up close. I can only assume that this is moved to channel fans on match days. We were not the only “pilgrims” either. While we sat there, a significant number of families turned up, did the son and/or father shot with the stadium behind them and moved on.

With our box ticked, we moved on too, aiming for a nice gelateria we had spotted at the top of Parque Lezama. We chose a shadier route back as it was very hot by then and I spotted an immaculate and very ancient, Jeep Waggoneer parked. That beauty was worth a lot of dollars I can tell you. I would have happily paid them myself if I could have imagined any way to get it back to Prague.

Dreaming over, we did find the gelateria which had things we wanted to buy. Our two lemon water ices hit a number of spots – all of them pleasurable.

Then it was back into the increasingly sweltering streets again. We had, by then, walked a long way, so we sought out a route to the metro. This took us directly through the artisanal heart of San Telmo where there was yet another huge market of handcrafted goods blocking most of the narrow, minor streets. We hustled through, even if we had wanted any of the stuff we had neither the space nor scope to carry it.

We did linger for a quick beer a few blocks from the metro. I believe beer to be a good indicator of your thirst level, suffice it to say my (admittedly small) beer scarcely seemed to even wet my tongue !

We found the good old C line (which was, disconcertingly, blue), a train came almost at once and we soon alighted at Lavalle station which was back in the very heart of the Florida district where we had started our quest. Needless to say, all the shops were, by then, open – and we passed innumerable places where we could have got the cable we wanted. Too late suckers ! The early bird had got THAT worm …..

Safely back in The Lafayette, we went native and had a shower, followed by a relaxing snooze (with air-conditioning) while the streets outside of the window baked in the sun.

Everything was worth it, by the way. An email from Aerolineas Argentinas was received on the recharged iPad, inviting us to check in for our flight the following day. This turned out to be a changed flight, that went at a different time and from a DIFFERENT AIRPORT (Buenos Aires has two) to the details we had from our original booking. We did have the same seats …

I think the word PHEW !! is appropriate here.

In the evening, we set out again to get something to eat. What I had not yet done, was to eat a proper Argentinian steak so, on our final evening in town, we set out to find one. Trip Advisor’s top tip was a little bit of a walk, but the reviews were pretty glowing. It was, perhaps, symptomatic of our day that, when we finally got there, it was closed and, by that, I mean seemingly permanently.

Sad, but not really a problem. Out came the ‘phone to find somewhere else – and our data ran out ….. This had never happened to me before, ever. Luckily, Lucie was pretty unfazed and, using her iPad, coolly loaded us up some more. the cost of which would, apparently, appear on a future bill.

Re-data’d (is that even a word ?) as it were, we moved down Trip Advisor’s list until we found a restaurant near enough to us to reach before we died of hunger. Situated right by that blasted obelisk, the restaurant Revire Brasas Bravas (Avenida Corrientes 1124, Autónoma de Buenos Aires) was quite authentic. It did have an English menu, but nobody on the staff really spoke any English, so questions were met with a blank stare. Our food though, a sirloin for me and lemon chicken for Lucie was excellently prepared, presented with a “Latin” flourish and every little bit of what I had been hoping for. It was well priced too, about the same as our barbecue lunch of the previous day – and infinitely better.

Then we wandered home through the Florida district on Avenida Lavalle – which was simply heaving with people and quickly retired for the night.

The following day, we would fly south to Tierra del Fuego and the world’s most southerly city, Ushuaia.