Saturday, January 11th, 2025

Taking off at midnight had seemed a good plan, at least when we booked it. In reality, it still was not, at least in concept, a bad idea. The flight departed on time, our seat pairing included an aisle for Lucie and everything seemed just dandy. But, quite naturally, dandy it was not.

In an effort to avoid the horrors which, inevitably, attend any attempt to traverse Charles de Gaulle in Paris, Lucie had consciously decided to avoid Air France and chosen Iberia instead. Although the cost was not, in any way, a factor, this had also been quite a lot cheaper. I think it is fair to say that, before the wheels were even up, we could easily tell why that was.

At the risk of receiving a threatening missive from Iberia’s lawyers, all I can really say is “picture Ryanair intercontinental”. It was a flight, it took us where we wanted to go and that bit worked. In all other aspects, it was about as bad as it can get. Where, on our previous trip on the same route (with Air France) the stewardesses had been smiling, helpful and attentive, the best thing that I can say about their Iberian counterparts is that they were unsmiling, uncaring, joyless harpies. We never, once, got offered any water or coffee outside of the two, scheduled, meal breaks. It WAS available, if you went and begged, but clearly, even this was passively discouraged. I usually sleep on flights, which means all of this rubbish tends to pass me by. On this occasion, of course, the final seat in our central three was occupied by some hyperactive, insomniac, woman who seemed to have an uncanny ability to nudge me every time sleep beckoned. It was not a good flight !

The only plus was that, due to the time difference in Argentina, the twelve hour, 10,062 kilometre, flight only took eight hours in “real” time and we touched down in Buenos Aires at around eight in the morning. It was already bright sunshine and twenty-eight degrees.

To say we were both a bit weary would be an understatement. Luckily, the immigration procedures were smooth and efficient although they do photograph you and take a thumb print. Given how I looked, if I had died there, that would have made identifying my corpse a pretty easy task …..

We bit the proverbial bullet and took an airport cab to our hotel. The cost was, what seemed like, an usurious USD 50, but it was actually a long way, with several stretches of paid motorway – so ultimately, it was probably not that bad. The driving seemed safe and the roads were not that packed. The driver even pointed out an impressive obelisk that was built, apparently in only thirty-one days in 1936. The construction team was German, need I say more ? Sadly, it had recently been vandalised and the bottom was protected by an ugly fence.

Our hotel, The Lafayette (Reconquista 546, Autónoma de Buenos Aires), had a pleasant, if slightly faded, style and was right in the centre. ALL the perceived wisdom says you should adapt to your new time-zone, so although the first thing I wanted to do was to go to sleep, we swapped our boots for our sandals and ventured outside for a look around.

We exchanged one hundred dollars US at the reception, at a rate superior to that shown on Google and were rewarded with a huge wad of Pesos and I do mean a huge wad. We ventured out info the heat and walked about thirty metres to the first bar, the Plus Ultra cafe, because I was inordinately thirsty. We quickly discovered that a lot of that wad was required just to buy a single beer ! Despite all the zeros on price tags, Buenos Aires was not a cheap place.

We did a bit of exploring, the waterfront area, a series of restored docks, was very nice, but not the place for a cheap lunch which was what we were seeking.

We also passed the Pink Palace, where the President lives (all that power and you paint your house THAT colour ?) in the Plaza del Mayo, which more or less ticked off all of the “must see” places.

Eventually, we located the district of San Telmo, reputed to be not only “authentically” Argentinian, but also, the “cradle of Tango”. We found a small restaurant, with an English speaking (to a point) waitress and ordered a small serving of barbecued beef. Although described as “small”, huge or gigantic would have been better descriptors. Seriously, this was more like half a cow – and not a small one, I hate to order stuff and not eat it, but there was simply no way on Earth that we could really even scratch the surface of that mound of cow. Even after I overdid my own, not inconsiderable, level of consumption, we left a huge pile untouched. The meal cost seventy-one thousand Pesos, oh the joy of being a tourist ! Next time we would definitely read the menu more closely ! Every place had a money counting machine because of the large amount of notes involved in even the most mundane transaction.

We walked, or maybe waddled, back to the hotel where a two hour planned siesta morphed into a four hour trip to dreamland. Of course, when we woke up, it was only about seven in the evening, but our brains insisted that midnight was coming. In an effort to acclimatise, we stirred ourselves to go out. Psychologically, it seemed strange. We had to exchange yet more dollars at a rate that was, oddly, even better than six hours previously. At least on that occasion, we were given some ten-thousand Peso notes, which meant the wad was less bulky.

The following day, I wanted to at least include the famous Maracana football stadium in our wanderings, so we walked to the central railway station and managed to get a metro/bus pass. The main train station is a truly impressive building and the adjacent park was dominated by a cute clock tower, behind which the moon was just peeking out. Later we found out that it was called the Torre de los Ingleses, or Tower of the English.

Then, we walked home through the surprisingly quiet streets. Quiet enough, in fact, for rats to be scampering along the sidewalk right outside the Hilton Doubletree …. We stopped only for a couple of beers (and an Empanada for Lucie) at a bar called John-John, before regaining our hotel and having a refreshing shower.

Then, I wrote this – whilst my brain continued to insist that it was after three in the morning !

Hopefully, some more serious action would begin soon.