Back to Buenos Aires

I make it up on time. That is: with enough time to eat breakfast properly. I need some ballast for that long bus ride. I haven’t had the best night.

I have a traditional scrambled egg and cheese breakfast. As is my wont in South America. Along with the usual liquids – coffee and orange juice. Followed by a quick dessert of fresh fruit. It’s better than the breakfast in Buenos Aires, which was pretty fucking basic.

A breakfast of scrambled eggs and cheese, with coffee and orange juice.

I didn’t have that brilliant a sleep. A lot of coughing went on in the night. I suspect most of it was mine.

Amazingly, the bus leaves almost on time, at 8:09. It's a long, tedious slog back to Buenos Aires. But I’m well-prepared, with snacks and a “special” drink. Most of a bottle of rum mixed with cola.

Argentina imitating Holland.

The weather is much duller. Low cloud and grey light combine with the flat landscape to give the scene a rather Dutch air. Until the sun comes out. The bright, azure sky is a dead giveaway that we aren’t amongst the polders.

We slide past rusty towns of gomerias, bungalows, churches and parrillas. Dusty football pitches slumber silently in the sunlight. 

A roadside town.

A railway strings along parallel to the road. It looks in use, as the sleepers are concrete. But, up until now, I’ve seen no sign of any actual trains. On the trip either way. I assume that it connects Buenos Aires to Mar del Plata. Can’t be a very frequent service.

As we near Buenos Aires, the landscape becomes more dense and industrial. Pipes and chimneys replacing meadows and trees. Closer yet, stubbly blocks of high-rises sprout. Until we hit the city itself. Castellated in its skyline, where constructs of very varying heights elbow into each other. Like a football match between six and sixteen-year-olds.

It seems a shorter journey than on the way out. Probably because we don't make any stops. The drive still lasts almost 5.5 hours.

I do quite a lot of coughing on the way back. Is my cold getting worse? I think so. Just in time for my free time in Buenos Aires. Wonderful.

My worry for today is getting an Uber without mobile data. Fortunately, many of us tip down to Bierlife. Where I can get wifi. Soon I'm bouncing my way to my hotel. Which is on the main drag. It's not that far. But way too far me in my ill and knackered state. With a shitload of luggage.

El Federal inside.

Once checked in, I almost immediately retrace my steps to El Federal. A cool old bar just around the corner from Bierlife. To meet up with Pete and Amy and a few other judges. For a couple of caipirnhas and a little food. Not that we stay long, as the others have to get to the airport.

It’s a shame we can’t stay longer as delicious-looking plates of food keep being ferried past me. But I couldn’t really hang around by myself, taking up a table for six, while there’s a queue outside.

Soon, I’m back in my hotel room, looking for inspiration. And not totally in my “special” rum drink.

What to do tonight? Maybe Parrilla. There are a couple of places just over the road on Lavalle. So that’s where I head. 

It’s just after 17:00 on a Sunday. And Lavalle is pedestrianised shopping street. Families are strolling around in the fading daylight. Not much strolling for me. I’m hungry and need to find a restaurant.

Inside El Gaucho. 

I pick El Gaucho for no particular reason. Other than it’s not far, looks fairly traditional and not too expensive. And has a cool name. I have to walk past the charcoal grill to get into the seating area. Which is all white tablecloths and wine glasses. Like a proper restaurant.

I settle down my arse at a table. And order a steak and a bottle of Malbec. While half watching Spain against Portugal in the final of the Nations League on the TV.

El Gaucho meal.

There aren’t very many other diners. It’s well past lunch and, as in Spain, evening meals are taken late. I’ve no problem with it being quiet. I quite like that, being a boring old fart. I don’t need to be surrounded by bustle and noise to convince myself that I’m having a good time.

Both the steak and the wine are pretty good. So good, that I eat almost all the steak. You'll have to guess how much of the wine I managed to get down.*  And Portugal beat Spain on penalties. That’ll teach the cheating bastards for cheating England in the final of the Euros last year.

Back in my room, I laze around and drink some more of my “special” drink. Before turning in dead early. At 8:30 again.



* The whole bottle.



Bar El Federal
Carlos Calvo 599, 
C1068 Cdad. Autónoma de Buenos Aires.



Parrilla El Gaucho de Lavalle
Lavalle 870, 
C1047 AAR, Cdad. Autónoma de Buenos Aires,
https://parrillagaucho.com/


Disclaimer: my hotel, some meals and some drinks were paid for by Copa Argentina de Cervezas.