After two days of traversing uber-wide boulevards, strolling quaint cobblestone byways, and eating way too much steak (pampas-fed beats hormone-infused any day) we have decided that Buenos Aires is an amalgam of the best of France, Spain, and Italy. Where else can you view an exquisite chateau, while eating a taco, having just downed an espresso?
Food in Argentina is great and cheap. You can eat and drink yourself sick at an excellent restaurant for about twenty dollars. I’m talking steak and a bottle of top shelf Malbec.
Too much to tell you in one short blog. I think I will leave you with a magical image that is now burned in my brain forever. We have always had a thing for cemeteries. Living previously in New Orleans, the cemetery was always a mysterious venue of crypts, sarcophagi, and mausoleums. Bonaventure cemetery in Savannah is a place of majesty and mystery, a combination of oaks, palms, and tributes to the dead. Nothing compares to Recoleta Cemetery. This morning’s thick fog dusted the entryway, a cool breeze rustled the Patagonia pine fronds, the banyan tree limbs thrust almost horizontal eerily creaked while the staccato rasp of pigeons filled our ears. This place is amazing. Imagine row after row of exquisite monuments and statuary – all clearly expensive, some probably priceless. Within each lies a noble family’s tribute to its heritage, truly amazing. Eva Peron was finally laid to rest in this cemetery after an apparently prolonged and bizarre journey after her death.
Okay, enough for now. Tomorrow we will fill you in on our amazing finds at the flea market of San Telmo. Stay tuned.
