This past Wednesday was the grand beginning of what might become a pleasant habit in the remaining month and a half.
The first mission was to find a Chinese restaurant. The first stop was the closer of the ones I had discovered through a rather extensive internet search (google business-map searches are not very good for Buenos Aires). Unfortunately, after 15 years of wonderful business, this restaurant had closed. We were redirected to another Chinese restaurant by a couple of hotel bellmen who were looking to practice their English. This was fruitful advice, my stomach was in a short time full of hot-and-sour soup. Omg, tofu, I've missed you.
The plan was then to go to the Museo of Bellas Artes (Museum of Fine Arts), where I would finally make it past the first floor. We pitstopped to do a small photo shoot at the rubber trees that have been allowed to survive the modernity and concrete of the city.
For some reason the Museo was closed, so we briefly rested in a park on Libertador, recovering from food coma and the sizeable walk. This slightly reminded me of how I spent a day in Menton, France-crashed under an orange tree:
It was at the park that we agreed to purchase bus tickets to Cordoba for the weekend. I think I have a terrible effect on people, I convince them that living out of a suitcase is a reasonable way to live. I just think there is more to see in Argentina than just the urban sprawl of Buenos Aires:
Two purchased roundtrip tickets to Cordoba later, the roomie and I proceeded to Alto Palermo so she could buy a power cord for her laptop. Packing is a difficult process. In any case, this mall is lush. I felt dirty and lacking in funds appropriate for even using the bathroom there. I felt confused, I have read and been taught that half the population of Argentina is poor, so how do these malls exist? I can't afford a $300 bag and supposedly Americans are well-off, so how do they buy these expensive things? Nearly all of the boutiques I have come across have similar prices, yet the majority of the city seems to be quite fashionably clad.While it wasn't exactly the most auspicious start for the Cultural Wednesdays tradition, I think the subte ride home was a cultural experience enough. Who doesn't love being so squished into a subway that one does not even need to hold onto anything to keep from falling over because the other bodies catch you before you move even a centimeter?
