1-4/4/2012 - 3 days in Buenos Aires and the end of the adventure

My 3 days in BA raced by in a blur of sightseeing, going out and trying to come to terms with the fact that I was actually going to be going home. From only a brief exposure to the city I was really drawn in. There was an ever present vivacity about the place, probably helped by the fact that there was a motor sport race going on right through the city centre on the day I arrived and the 30^th anniversary of the Falklands war the day after.

Re-enacting hooliganism at athe Boca Juniors football statium

Both events had locals out in force, the latter manifesting itself in a large parade down one of the main streets. “Fuera Ingleses” was plastered across many a bus stop and a catchy chant of “We will return, we will return, like we did the first time” was bellowed out by young and old alike. Although a few firecrackers went off, the parade seemed mostly good natured and culminated in a chanting session in front of the parliament building. It might not have been a good day to be a Brit in Argentina but I kept a low profile and enjoyed the spectacle without bothering to delve into any political arguments. 
 

The sane day I rented a bike (I'd gotten a taste for it now) and went marauding around the northern part of the centre, taking in the cemetery where Argentina's rich and famous got entombed. Among the generals and bankers was the tomb of the Peron's which meant that I had “don't cry for me Argentina” in my head for the rest of the day.

It was a slightly odd place, made even stranger by the hoards of tourists wandering around and taking photos. Something about turning death into a tourist attractions didn't sit right with me but naturally I was one of those tourists so there goes my moral high ground.
 

Cycling through a couple of quiet neighbourhoods, where walkways were shaded by trees and the cafés were littered with lounging locals, I was drawn to make comparisons with down town New York. In some ways it also reminded me a little of Caracas, if Caracas had a multicultural facelift and replaced its shoe shops and filth with cafés and tango shows.

That isn't to say BA is perfect. I saw more homeless people sleeping in doorways along many of the main avenues in my 3 days here than I think I'd seen through my whole 6 months in SA.

The city and Argentina in general is such a whirlwind of activity and mixture of cultures that its almost impossible not to be swept along in it. Couple that with the fact that University education is free and it only takes 2 years to gain citizenship and its not hard to see why the place has definitely made it on to my “need to go back to” list. Who knows when. I'd also tentatively add it to my list of places I could see myself living in. That dream will have to wait.

In the last week I'd tried to juggle all the emotions of looking forward to going home, not wanting to leave and trying to savour every moment. When it came to packing my bag for the last time I found that I couldn't fully comprehend the journey I'd had. Those days of volunteering at the foundation in Venezuela all those months ago now seemed like a previous life. Vivid snapshots of different cities and people drifted across my mind and I was left with a sense of awe at how lucky I'd been to see and experience so much in just 6 short months, 6 months that at times felt like they were dragging on forever and other times seemed to race by.

The same questions came back to me. Had I learned anything? About life, about myself? Had I changed? Could any of these things be written down in blog form? The answer is “probably yes” to the first 3 and “probably not” to the latter (what a cop out, right?). Shall I try?.. later.

And so it was time to go. I waved goodbye to the wonderfully cheerful receptionist, picked up a couple of bottles of wine and headed to the airport. Goodbye South America.