Fair Winds

 I have learned through years of travelling with different people, that key to a successful travel relationship is space and time alone.  Sadie was exhausted when she arrived in Buenos Aires so I hung out in the hotel lobby for a while whilst she took time to clean up, settle in and rest a bit.  I also took the opportunity to ask our lovely receptionist to help me book dinner and a tango show for later that evening. Sadie emerged a bit later, showered and desperate for coffee. Luckily, we were totally spoiled for coffee choice in Palermo. After caffeinating, we hopped in an Uber (ridiculously inexpensive here) to the San Telmo Sunday market.  We initially thought that the market was located only in an old building housing dozens of small cafes, a handful of produce stands and a few antique/junk stalls.  When we emerged on the other side of the building, we saw that the outdoor market extended for many blocks in every direction.  It was great fun wandering from stall to stall, discovering just how many products can be produced from a cow.  There were leather belts, bags, shoes, hats, waistcoats and all manner of leather off-cut tat.  There were shops selling a myriad of dairy products, including the ubiquitous dulce  de leche. There were steak restaurants on every block.  I’m sure that if we had looked hard enough, we would have found moos for sale. 

All that shopping without buying (tempting though it was, I had to consider weight limits and more than a month of future travel) in 27 degree weather made for thirsty work. We stopped for our first cerveza of the trip, a can of Patagonia lager. It is an absolute truth that a cold beer tastes exponentially better in a hot climate.  Maybe someone can explain the science of that to me sometime.   

We then grabbed another uber to visit the Israeli embassy and pay our respects to the 29 people massacred in 1992 by a terrorist bomb.  It was a simple but profound memorial.  Sadie, in her newfound embrace of her Jewish heritage, regaled me with interesting facts.  Apparently Argentina is home to around 200,000 Jews, the largest Jewish population in South America and the 5th largest in the world. Buenos Aires alone is home to over 80 synagogues and apparently the only kosher McDonalds outside of Israel. No cheeseburgers there, I guess, although I’ve always suspected that the “cheese” on a quarter pounder contains no actual dairy products. We then strolled through a lovely, quiet neighbourhood to view the city’s largest synagogue which, sadly, was closed to visitors on a Sunday. On the way we passed the Cervantes theatre which gave me the chance to try to explain Don Quixote to Sadie. In doing so, I suspect that I was tilting at my own windmill.  It was interesting to note that, unlike in other cities I’ve visited of late, there were no protests outside the Israeli embassy or the main synagogue.  I will need to explore further Argentina’s relationship to Israel and Palestine. 

We then continued walking to the El Ateneo bookshop.  I’m pretty sure if I lead a good life, this is the place I will go when I die. It is an enormous bookstore housed inside a magnificent old theatre. Books are arranged not only in the “stalls”, but also around the mezzanine and balconies.  Many of the original features and artwork, including the stunning painted ceiling, have been retained.  I wanted to stay there forever, fondling books and letting my eyes feast on the setting.  Alas, they were closing soon, and I had to make do with a promise to myself to return someday. 

After a short rest back at the hotel, we set off for a nearby “parrilla”, an Argentinian restaurant featuring grilled meats, called Lo de Jesus which basically translates to Jesus’ place. It is sort of a church dedicated more to steak than the alleged son of god. Our waiter was charming and very patient with our limited Spanish.  Sadie ordered the tenderloin, grilled carrots and sweet potato fries.  Our waiter walked away without asking for my order, which I interpreted as a manifestation of how a beautiful young woman causes other women of a certain age to fade into the background.  In retrospect, not only was that wrong, it should have been a clue as to what was to come.  When I asked to order, our waiter seemed surprised.  I asked if the portions were for 2 people and he used his hands to demonstrate we could expect a steak about three inches in diameter.  “Oh, ok”, I said, “I’ll have the same and some creamed spinach as well”.  Then followed a short discussion about how “a punto” did not really mean medium rare, but more medium.  Sadie and I both have Texas blood, and need to see blood in the middle of our steaks to render them edible.  We also ordered two glasses of the recommended full bodied Malbec which was utterly delicious. Just in case we might starve before the main event, the restaurant provided a large round loaf of deliciously airy white bread, served with chimichuri sauce. I have no idea how I made it this far in life without sampling this flavoursome combination of parsley, garlic, oregano, oil, vinegar and chili. I just know it will certainly form part of my future dining repertoire.  It tastes of happiness.

Knowing better, we still couldn’t stop sawing off bits of bread to dunk and eat.

Our actual meal arrived with our waiter groaning under the weight of it, and the reasons behind his earlier confused look became suddenly clear.  Each order of tenderloin contained not one, but two, three inch chunks of meat, each over an inch thick.  The sides were each big enough to feed four hungry rugby players.  I’ve always been hugely impressed by Sadie’s ability to work her way through a huge meal, and she did not disappoint. Whilst I did not manage to finish even one of my steaks, she gamely got through both of hers, at least half the fries and a large portion of the carrots. Total respect to her.  Total food coma for the both of us.  The bill came to less than US$150 for the two of us, including wine, tip and a complementary glass of fizz.  You would find it impossible to feed one person for that amount in any decent NYC steak house and every morsel brought mouth joy.

We returned to our hotel to await our transportation to a tango show. The car was due to arrive between 8:15 and 8:30 to take us to a 9:00 show. By 8:50, there was still no sign of the driver and we decided to forego the evening event.   We both collapsed into bed in a steak-filled torpor.