Buenos Aires sketches

Cafe Tortoni is the perfect encapsulation of Buenos Aires, a baroque French look enveloping a Latin soul.  The city itself screams high culture, and Tortoni's waiters serve up cafe creme or a proper English tea, while the books on the shelves behind you are all local writers, and famed Argentinians look down from the photos on the walls (including from Manet's Chez Tortoni) .  It reminds me of Cafe Greco in Rome, and even the clientele looks the same: a few local hipsters immersed in their books not so much to strike a pose as to ignore the cruise ship tourist types, or the large groups of Chinese who look most out of place.

The streets outside could too be Paris, though thankfully less grungy and with less blaring of car horns. The boulevards are broad, the marble buildings still grand and surprisingly white, though that could be the bright sun above.  This latter point could also be why the parks have far more trees, most with thick trunks and huge canopies.   No building is more grand than the Tango Porteño, though sadly it is impossible to enter without an accompanying guide.  I bemoan again what tourism has done to the world, that it is becoming difficult to truly connect with a place, or to simply engage, without having someone in your ear drowning it all in facts.    

One fact that we do quickly pick up upon is that the streets are less safe than Paris.  On a few occasions someone gestures to LYL to hide her camera.  She does, and places both hands on her handbag.  Locals also serve as a resource in finding a good place for lunch, where we take reprieve after a morning of wandering.  The 90-year old Chiquilin is a perfect choice, soaked too in that baroque vibe, but the meat and the wines are from the pampas nearby . 

Strolls makes for the best digestif, and this one was through a city that grew more and more fascinating as we went. A literary, cultured, classical European society of the 19th century, superimposed upon by the military dictatorships of the 20th. I felt that that older society had been the victim of murder, and was now beginning to decompose economically.

On the turntable:  Jethro Tull, "Days of Giving"
On the nighttable:  Vincent Van Gogh, "Dear Theo"