Back to BA

It was so easy to go back to Buenos Aires, the route to ‘my’ apartment familiar to both me and Suerte, and a warm welcome by Mati, my Airbnb host. Just a quick stop en route at the shop where I’d bought Suerte, to return the ring that I had found on the farm. There was a different lady, and at first I had trouble explaining my mission, sweat pouring down my face, until she started using Google Translate and casually handed me a paper towel to wipe my face. She sent the owner of the ring a WApp and photo, and I left it there. Sad story for me is that I was hoping to find my little make-up bag there, but I must have lost it on the bus on the way to Azul. Sad because (bear with me, these little things become important) of the sentimental value: the bag I had bought in Vietnam in 2014, a nail clipper I had bought in London for £5 in 2006, a nail file I have been using for 30 years, a little mirror a friend gave me for my previous trip in 2019, and an eyebrow pencil-brush without which I look a little spooky. Me being the eternal optimist, I gracefully accepted the loss and assumed it was time for change…

I spent 4 hours of the first morning back in BA applying for my online visa for Columbia, a marathon task which I started off enthusiastically, but had to grind my teeth to complete. I even managed to pay, reading and Google Translating instructions, so now I’m anxiously awaiting the approval. All the while I was hearing loud explosions from outside, and Mati explained that there was a protest against new labour laws that the president was trying to pass. The explosions were rockets that were being fired off. The previous week a similar protest had evidently ended with clashes between the police and protesters, and a few people had been injured. I decided to take to the streets and see for myself.

Plaza de Congresa, where protests are mostly held

Most protesters didn’t enter the Plaza, as there was a ‘stage’ in the street from where the propaganda was being broadcast, preventing them from moving forward – reminded me of the fighting in the street in the movie Les Misérables

The noise was overwhelming, with loud propaganda speeches, singing and cheering, but the atmosphere was peaceful, with police all hanging around, busy on their cellphones. Vendors were selling food, mate and beer was being drunk everywhere and men were urinating against the buildings in side streets. Where could the women relieve themselves? Relaxed chaos. Most shops were closed though, with their metal shutters down.

Enthusiastic supporters

I spent the last day in La Boca, a very touristy part of BA. I walked there, through San Telmo, accidentally discovering the San Telmo market, a very old undercover marketplace.

In the olden days horses walked along these lanes, then in the open air, now under cover.

On the way to La Boca, one passes the soccer stadium of the professional sports club, Club Atlético Boca Juniors, which was founded in 1905, and which team has won 60 professional titles, according to Wikipedia. I overheard people talking about a serious match that was going to be played the following day, and the signs were everywhere as people were buying stuff and were all wearing the CABJ shirts.

As I approached the tourist area, street art was becoming more plentiful and buildings more colourful.

A tourist posing – they were standing in queues to take photos, so I just photographed one of them.

Real people below, sculptured ones above

The sign on her head: “I am not disheveled, it’s just that my hair has freedom of expression.”

The experience of La Boca was kind of sad though, compared to 7 years ago when I was last there. Then it was packed with tourists, roadside tables full, tango dancers on the pavements and fun sculptures everywhere. The impression I got now was that economically it was struggling with only a few small groups of tourists accompanied by a guide, empty tables, one couple doing the tango and very few sidewalk vendors. I chatted to a fireman, who told me they were volunteers, not receiving financial support from the government, and they were asking for donations. He warned me against moving away from the ‘tourists area’, as it was not safe.

I managed to find one place where everyone was buying the traditional choripan (chorizo on a bun, with chimichurri sauce and salsa) on an open school playing court. There were a few tables under umbrellas, but they were full. I was standing to one side, trying to catch a bit of shade, battling to cope with sauce dripping everywhere, when a kind man brought me a paper plate. After a while he reappeared with a table, and a few minutes later two chairs, and even an umbrella, carrying the heavy cement stand in one hand. I gracefully accepted it all, only to realise he hadn’t done it for me, but was just setting up extra seating!