Living in the capital, it is sometimes easy to forget that Argentina is not only about the Buenos Aires night life, tango, Malbec, great meat and empanadas. Yes, you will say, I know it is about estancias, nature and gauchos too.
But did you know that it is also has over a hundred years of polo tradition? That it is home to the world’s best polo players? That you can learn to play polo even if you never have ridden a horse before?
So there I was—a more-or-less intermediate level tango dancer, with all the bravura that a lifetime of other dance techniques has given me, which means the tendency to show off when I don’t know what I’m doing. I was in a very popular class of what is conveniently called “tango nuevo.” signifying that everyone is young and experimental and in this case, pretty good. We were learning some complicated steps and finding new possibilities with each different partner and I was trying to hold my own along with everybody else.
Attention shoppers: mark the intersection of Murillo and Scalabrini Ortiz on your maps for serious deals. This is leather central. You name it and it is here– jackets, purses, wallets, shoes, furs, etc. The neighborhood is off the tourist beaten path so the barrio isn’t as pretty as parts of Palermo but the rents are cheaper and so are the goods.
And the winner is … hu90! His photo was chosen from the Argentina’s Travel Guide photo group pool on Flickr as the winner of the Photo of the Week. This dynamite photo shows the Puerto Madero at a dead calm with beautiful reflections from new buildings behind.
Buenos Aires is a large city, and despite the fact that it may seem deceptively European at first glance, many things are different here and it will take time and effort to feel your way around. In my first week in the capital I had many pressing problems and questions that needed answering. Unfortunately, I had no one to ask where to buy baby food, find shoes that fit my big feet-size 41 or 8-or where I should send my eldest boy to kindergarten. I ended up accosting unsuspecting mothers in playgrounds, asking (nicely if with a shade of panic) to know where they sent their children to school.
