airport. The airport is only a short way out of town, but the area is much dryer and there were few trees. The airport only has six gates and flights were scheduled constantly. I flew with
which had a unique scheme to wring more money out of its passengers. Their luggage weight allowance was slightly lower than other airlines, requiring many of us to pay for overweight baggage. The charge was only 21,000 pesos (about $15.) It was just annoying enough that everyone was muttering about it.
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| The Cabildo |
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| Pirámide de Mayo |
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| Stones on Belgrano Statue |
Also notable, is the fine equestrian statue of General Manuel Belgrano, a leader in Argentina’s War of Independence. Covering the plinth on which the statue stands, are hundreds of stones placed by the relatives of those who disappeared during the “
Dirty War” in the 1970’s. When Peron died in 1974, the state-sponsored paramilitary force targeted left-wing subversives. At the same time, the military engaged in open warfare with left-wing guerrillas. The economy collapsed and the military overthrew the government in 1976.
Left-wing guerrillas were brutally eliminated during the Guerra Sucia (Dirty War) and the military unleashed a campaign of terror against the civilian population. U.S. intelligence claims 22,000 people (Argentine government claims 9,000, human rights organizations total is 30,000) were arrested, taken to clandestine concentration camps, tortured, and killed for being enemies of the state. This silenced practically all dissent.
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| Argentina Hasn't Forgotten the Falklands |
By 1981, when the economy once again unraveled, demonstrations began again. In an attempt to improve its image, the dictatorship launched a war to reclaim the Falkland Islands for Argentina. The Falklands (Islas Malvinas) had been a sore spot for Argentina since Britain occupied them in 1833. Unfortunately for the dictatorship, Britain defeated Argentina in just 74 days, shattering the dictatorship’s political standing and returning Argentina to democratic rule.
By the time I got back to the apartment, I was too tired to even think about going out for dinner. I had a little granola with yogurt and watched a few episodes of Netflix before retiring early.
My landlord was supposed to come by at 8:30 the next morning to collect the rent because I had told him that I needed to leave by 9:00. I waited until 9:00, but he never came. That was irritating because I had really wanted to go out for coffee about 8:00. I left at 9:00 and walked a few blocks to the
BuenosAiresBus office to buy a ticket for the hop-on hop-off bus. Reviews indicated that this was the better of the two options in town. I had picked up a brochure from a display in the hallway of my building. I bought a ticket covering three days because it didn’t cost much for the additional days and I figured it would take me most places I wanted to go.
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| Evita Mural |
I had a reservation for a walking tour of the
La Boca neighborhood at 11:00 and planned to ride the bus over there and get a coffee before the tour. I got on the bus at the stop numbered 2 on the map I had picked up in the hall. We drove across the city past the Ministry of Public Works, displaying a huge mural of Eva Peron’s face towering over the city, and through the neighborhood of San Telmo. My map indicated that the stop nearest the meeting place for my tour was number 8, which should have been Parque Lezama. This is where it got confusing. It seemed we had skipped some stops and quickly reached stop number 8. I got off there, not wanting to get any further away from my destination. I found myself at the soccer stadium of La Bombonera. This was a couple of kilometers from Parque Lezama. The map I had was outdated. The stop numbers had changed. Fortunately, I had plenty of time to walk across La Boca to the McDonald’s where the tour was supposed to begin. Arriving half an hour early, I thought I had time for a coffee and a medialuna. I was incorrect. The McDonald’s was so disorganized that it took them 15 minutes to get me a coffee and a pastry. All the customers were returning their incorrect orders. My order wasn’t correct, either, but I didn’t have time to complain.
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| La Boca Welcome Mural |
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| Tango & Maradona |
Our guide, Pedro, was also late, but we eventually found him and got started. We began our tour at the mural welcoming visitors to La Boca. The mural, which was as much sculpture as painting, was created by the residents of the neighborhood. La Boca is located at the mouth of the Riachuelo, hence the name meaning “the mouth.” The Rio Plata was shallow and difficult to navigate, so the original port of Buenos Aires was in La Boca. The area was first developed by the Genoese. The port was the site of factories and warehouses, which provided employment for the recent immigrants. Being a port, there were plenty of brothels.
Tango had its roots in this neighborhood. La Boca has two idols:
Diego Maradona, the soccer star, and Benito Quinquela, the artist. Both are prominently represented in the mural, as well as a model of the bridge over the Riachuelo.
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| Conventillo in La Boca |
We continued our walk along Avenida Almirante Brown, past the Casa Amarilla, a replica of Brown’s home in La Boca. It now houses items from Argentina’s naval history. Brown was an Irishman who helped found Argentina’s Navy, Much as O’Higgins had founded Chile’s. We walked a long way down this avenue and then cut through the residential neighborhood past a castle-like mansion reputed to be haunted by goblins (plants imported from Spain may have introduced hallucinogenic mushrooms) and many of the houses known as “conventillos.” A conventillo is a sort of communal house with rooms surrounding a courtyard like the cloister in a convent. Early immigrants to the area built these houses from wood and corrugated iron scavenged from the port. Each room was occupied by a family who shared kitchen and bathroom facilities. Because these houses were built from scavenged materials and painted with scavenged paint, they were always multi-colored, a tradition which continues to this day.
Quinquela attributed the love of color which led him to paint to his origins in La Boca.
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| San Diego de La Boca |
We visited two more murals. The first was of San Diego de la Boca or Diego Maradona. Begun on the day of his death, it depicts him on a wall 40 meters long and 20 meters high, sporting a halo. The second mural is called Quinquela’s dream and is painted across some now-abandoned industrial silos. It is very colorful and was painted as a tribute to Quinquela. Around the corner from the main work, there is a smaller multi-media portrait of Quinquela, himself.
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| Quinquela's Dream |
After visiting the murals, we stopped at the Bar Portuario. When the port moved away from La Boca, the neighborhood fell on hard times from which it is only now recovering. The Bar Portuario is not a historic bar. Instead, it is trying to recreate the sort of nightlife that once existed. We stopped there for a cold drink and bathroom break.
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| Antique Pump Wagon |
We paid a visit to the oldest fire station in Buenos Aires. A volunteer fire department, it was started by Italian immigrants in 1884 because the materials used to build their houses were very flammable. The fire station, which still functions today, is partly a museum displaying antique firefighting equipment.
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| Mate Vessel |
We made a quick stop at a mate shop for people to try mate. I wasn’t interested, but did find it interesting to learn that each of the mate vessels I had been seeing had a gourd at its heart, no matter what it looked like on the outside.
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| La Bombonera |
We then proceeded to La Bombanera, so called because the architect thought it looked like the trays in a box of bombons. La Boca is obsessed with its soccer team, the
Boca Juniors. Seemingly half the buildings are painted in its blue and gold colors. The team was originally started by five teenagers. I heard conflicting stories as to why they decided to change the original colors at some point, but both stories agree that they decided to go to the port and use the colors from the first flag they saw. The first ship was Swedish, hence the blue and gold.
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| La Boca Murals |
Long lines of people waited to get a tour of the stadium and the street was lined with souvenir shops. The stadium holds 58,000 fans. It shakes when they all start jumping up and down. Locals claim it is not shaking, but beating.
From the stadium, we followed a long walkway past choripan sellers to
El Caminito. Choripan is a roasted chorizo on a roll. El Caminito is an open-air museum fostered by Quinquela. He turned an abandoned street into a museum highlighting the arts of the neighborhood. It is the touristy part of La Boca and was crowded with vendors and restaurants. We ended our tour there.
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| Quinquela's Studio |
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| Quinquela Painting |
After the tour, I checked out what remained of the port and then visited the Quinquela museum. Quinquela had developed the building as a school and community center for the neighborhood. He reserved the penthouse, with its fine view of the port, for his home and studio. Today, the lower part of the building in still a school. The second floor is an art museum featuring works of Quinquela and other Argentine artists. The top floor is a museum featuring Quinquela’s home and artworks. He especially loved to paint the port and its workers. He and his father had both worked unloading coal and he often painted the coalworkers. He also loved to paint the decaying ships that once filled the harbor after the port was moved. Quinquela painted with a spatula and I was impressed with how well he depicted reflections on water with such a crude tool.
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| The Old Port in La Boca |
After the museum, I passed a very pleasant 90 minutes enjoying a choripan with fries, a beer, and the warm sunshine. It was very enjoyable to be warm after my weeks in Patagonia. Then I decided to get back on the bus at the El Caminito stop. There was a long, disorganized line. Both the BuenosAiresBus and Grayline stopped there. No one seemed to know for which bus we were waiting. Two BuenosAiresBuses came and went before I could get on. The lines didn’t separate until the first Grayline bus arrived. I got on the third bus. Extra buses had been added, so I only waited about half an hour.
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| The Obelisk |
I rode the bus to stop 14 where we were directed to get off and switch to another bus if we wished to continue. It was getting close to 5:00 and the last bus left at 5:20. The end of the line was further from my apartment, so I got off at that point. I ducked into their office and picked up a current map. Then I began the two kilometer walk home. I had stopped at the
Galleria del Pacifico. I’m not a fan of shopping malls, but the dome and painted ceiling were impressive. I walked down Calle Viamonte for several blocks and stopped for a dinner of ice cream along the way. I reached Carlos Pellegrini at the obelisk built in 1936 to commemorate four important events in Argentine history: the first foundation of Buenos Aires in 1536, the second, successful foundation of the city in 1580, the creation of the federal capitol in 1880, and the first hoisting of the flag, which had happened at that spot.
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| Ceiling at the Galleria del Pacifico |
I turned onto Carlos Pellegrini at the obelisk and followed it to my apartment, first stopping to buy a can of roach spray. Then I went upstairs to write about my day.
February 19, 2026
Departamento Centro BA
Buenos Aires, Argentina
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| Circulo Militar |
It was my goal to finish riding around the hop-on hop-off bus circuit during the early part of the day. I didn’t want to waste the time to repeat the southern neighborhoods, so I walked to Plaza San Martin, about a mile from my apartment. Plaza San Martin is surrounded by interesting buildings. Palacio Haedo, with its neo-Gothic turret was impossible to photograph due to the location of streets and trees, but was a fine introduction to the area. Across the street was the Circulo Militar. Originally the Paz family mansion, it now houses a military museum.
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| Plaza San Martin |
I was very impressed with the beauty of Plaza San Martin. It extends for blocks with expansive lawns stretching up a natural rise. The silk floss trees were in bloom, painting the park with pink splendour. Equally impressive was the Palacio San Martin. Built in the early 20th Century and consisting of three linked houses, the beaux-arts palace has housed the Ministry of Foreign Affairs since 1936. Further to the northeast stands the Estacion Retiro, an award winning building in its time. A Sheraton hotel and modern skyscrapers line the southeast side of the square.
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| Reflection of Palacio San Martin |
The park is divided by Avenida del Liberador, a six-lane artery which is almost impossible to cross. I wanted to see the Monumental Tower, which is on the other side. I had to walk around three sides of a large square to get there. The tower is a replica of Big Ben in London and was a gift from the expatriate British community in 1916.
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| Monumental Tower |
I wanted to get back on the bus at Plaza San Martin, but had trouble locating the stop. I crossed Avenida del Liberador three more times before finding it. I was a hot, sweaty mess before I found the stop and sat down to wait.
I only rode two stops before getting off the bus at the Museum of Latin American Art of Buenos Aires (MALBA.) The route followed the park-lined railroad tracks that form an impassable barrier between the city and the port. I had no intention of going to the museum, but wanted to see the giant, metal flower sculpture known as Floralis Generica or Generic Flower. It was a long walk with very little shade. I walked there and back and then walked quite a ways further until I reached the Japanese Garden. This seemed like a good place to cool off and get some lunch.
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| Floralis Generica |
The Jardin Japones was donated to the city by its Japanese inhabitants in 1967. The whole Palermo area is green and peaceful, but this garden still felt like an oasis. It was traditional, with red painted bridges over koi ponds and sculptured trees and shrubs. Koi are reared in plastic kiddie pools. I sat down and ate some chicken nuggets in the shade. I quickly downed a bottle of mineral water. After lunch, I was in better shape to appreciate the landscaping. In December of 2023, there was a mighty storm that shattered two of the large trees in the garden. Instead of cutting them down completely, the artist Luis Wood Perez turned them into amazing sculptures. They were truly breathtaking.
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Jardin Japones
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| Wood Perez Sculpture |
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| The Geisha |
I didn’t linger long at the garden because I had things to see and needed to get to San Telmo for a walking tour at 16:00. I left the garden and headed for the racetrack, the Hipódromo Argentino de Palermo, a facility that can seat 100,000 people. I walked and walked through Parque de 3 Febrero. It was pretty, but hot and there was little shade. After a mile or so, when I still hadn’t reached the Hipódromo, I realized that I still had a lot of walking to do in San Telmo and I abandoned my goal. I walked back to the Planetarium and got back on the bus. I knew I still had a lot of the route to cover.
The bus passed through the sprawling Palermo neighborhood and took a quick turn through the Villa Crespo area. Palermo was very trendy with lots of shops and restaurants. Originally an affluent and modern neighborhood, most of the homes had garages. Many of these were later converted to storefronts and restaurants. It looked like a fun place to explore, later.
I stayed on the bus through Recoleta and back through the Microcenter and Monserrat, finally getting off at the San Telmo stop with just enough time to walk down the hill past Parque Lezama to meet my walking tour at 16:00.
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| 400th Anniversary Monument |
The Rio Plata once reached all the way to the foot of Parque Lezama. It is thought that the rise incorporated in Parque Lezama was the likely site of Pedro de Mendoza’s failed first settlement in Buenos Aires. The local inhabitants eventually burned the settlement and drove them out. In 1936, on the 400th anniversary of that first settlement, the citizens of Buenos Aires erected a bronze monument at that site. Times being tough and bronze being expensive, the sculpture was cast from an old cruiser that was dismantled and melted down along with 10 cent coins donated by the area’s schools. Our guide showed us the monument and recounted how the Lezama family came to sell their property to the city upon Pedro Lezama’s death. His home became the Historical Museum. At the top of the park, stands another monument to the second and more successful founding of Buenos Aires in 1580 by Juan de Garay.
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| Monument to 2nd Founding |
The street currently know as Defensa runs from Parque Lezama where boats would load and unload cargo and the Plaza de Mayo which held the administrative center. This road has had five names. Originally called “Mayor” or Main Street, the name was changed to San Martin after the famous general. Renamed Liniers when the British conquered the city, it was again changed to Reconquista after the British were ousted. It has been called Defensa since 1849.
Uphill from Parque Lezama, we wandered through the cobble stoned streets of San Telmo. San Telmo is known for its antique stores. This is somewhat odd, since early San Telmo held little of value. Still it has become the place to take old things to be sold. We spent a few minutes in a fabulous record store so crammed with treasures that I didn’t dare look.
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| Record Store in San Telmo |
While the conventillos in La Boca were makeshift structures cobbled together out of scavenged materials, those in San Telmo were originally colonial homes with two or three patios. When an outbreak of yellow fever caused the original inhabitants to flee in 1871, their homes were converted to communal conventillos for the immigrants flooding into the area. Large rooms surrounding patios on two levels each housed a different family. The conventillo we visited had been converted to shops and restaurants and had been used as a location in the 2015 Will Smith film Focus.
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| Conventillo in San Telmo |
Nearby the conventillo, we entered the San Telmo marketplace. It was of European design with ornamental ironwork and blue and green colored glass. It seemed to be entirely filled with food stalls. It was crowded, hot, and noisy. I couldn’t see how anyone would choose to eat there.
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| San Telmo Market |
We finally arrived at Independencia, the northern border of San Telmo, where sits the temple of tango, El Viejo Almacén. While tango was probably invented in La Boca, San Telmo is the center of tango, today. Most of the milongas (tango bars) and tango shows are located there. El Viejo Almacén was opened in 1967 and has featured all the biggest names in tango. I had a ticket for a show there later that night.
Our guide, Manuel, was friends with Jimena, who must have been the owner or manager of the establishment. She invited us in and gave us a lecture on tango, much of which I unfortunately missed between her rapid-fire Argentine inflected Spanish and my poor hearing. There had not been an English-language tour offered that day, so I had taken the Spanish-language one. Manuel was pretty easy to understand, but not Jimena. Ironically, when I saw her later, she spoke to me in English.
After our tango education, Manuel walked us a few more blocks through a neighborhood of bookstores and literary statues. He left us there.
I had already turned off my phone to save the battery because I was down to 13% and needed it to show my ticket and call an Uber to get home after the show. I carefully retraced my steps toward El Viejo Almacén and stopped into a pizza joint Manuel had recommended. It was one of the worst pizzas I had ever tasted. There was plenty of cheese, but my cheese pizza was polluted with green olives, the sauce was completely without flavor, and the crust was tough and chalky. For once, I didn’t ask to take the leftovers home, but the waiter delivered them to me, anyway. I had a couple of hours to kill before the show and had planned to hang out there, but I felt like I was keeping them from closing. I left, walked back to El Viejo Almacén, and then continued around the corner into San Telmo.
I had to go an extra block out of my way to get past a large demonstration against the conservative party’s labor “reform” bill being debated in the lower house. Workers were up in arms because the bill would roll back rights they had enjoyed for fifty years, such as an 8-hour work day and paid overtime. Protestors waved Argentine flags, banged drums, and blew trumpets. They blocked an entire intersection, pivoting ninety degrees each time the light changed.
I walked around the block a couple of times but didn’t find the neighborhood very interesting. I didn’t really want to drink anything, but ended up spending an hour in a Viking bar, consuming half a glass of malbec, and listening to some very unique bluegrass/Celtic covers of 60’s and 70’s classics. At 20:45, I paid my bill and walked back to El Viejo Almacén.
My ticket said 21:00. I was one of the first people there. The establishment offered packages including dinner and transportation. Not wanting to spend a lot to eat a big dinner by myself and knowing they wouldn’t pick me up at an apartment, I had elected the option of the show alone. It turned out that the dinner part of the package was actually at a newish restaurant across the street. I sat in the nearly empty theater for about half an hour until the dinner guests filtered in. The place didn't really fill up until a tour group arrived just before 22:00. The show started at 22:00.
The tango was impressive. A five-piece band provided the music: piano, double bass played with a bow, two bandoneóns (a German type of squeeze box), and a violin. There was a troupe of eight dancers, a female singer, and a couple who performed a routine with drums and weighted balls called boleadoras, which were originally a throwing weapon used by the gauchos. The boleadoras can be whirled and slammed into the ground to produce a percussive sound.
Most of the show featured tango. The dancers kicked so rapidly that I couldn’t keep track of where their legs were coming from. They often kicked through their partner’s legs, frequently behind their bodies, requiring astounding flexibility. I stopped regretting not having been able to find a tango class. I could never have managed even one of those kicks. The male dancers threw their partners, some of whom were not small women, over their shoulders and twirled them like batons, occasionally bouncing them off the balcony. The gaucho couple made a nice interlude and were very popular with the crowd. I think I had seen them in La Boca, the day before, performing on the street. Towards the end of the evening, an old tango singing star from the 70’s, Hugo Marcel, took the stage and sang a few numbers. That made for a good finale.
The show ended about midnight. It was chaos, outside, with numerous shuttles picking up patrons who had paid for transport. I walked out and crossed the street to call an Uber. I waited and waited and never got connected with a driver. Eventually, my phone battery died. I later realized that a national strike had begun at midnight. Uber drivers, one of the groups who stood to lose protections granted to independent contractors if the labor laws changed, were quite understandably striking.
Concerned about my phone battery, I had been careful to observe how to walk home just in case I couldn’t find an Uber. Unfortunately, I had somehow crossed the wrong street and was ninety degrees off from where I should have been. I walked and walked and couldn’t find any street signs to orient myself. I had a paper map, but it was hard to read in the dark and I didn’t want to appear lost. When I eventually reached the port, I knew I had gone the wrong way. I stopped into a MacDonald’s where there was good lighting. Knowing where the port was located, I had some idea which way to go, but the street where I was happened to be the street where one map page joined another and the name was obscured.. I started walking north. I couldn’t find Belgrano on the map, but I knew I had seen it not too far from where I lived. Another mile or so later, I finally came to Avenida 9 de Julio and it was only another six blocks or so to my place. Buenos Aires was well-lighted and lots of people were out on the street. I knew I shouldn’t be wandering around by myself after midnight, but I never felt threatened. I had ended up walking something like twelve miles, that day, and I was so tired I was more concerned about collapsing before I got home than being mugged. I had developed a big blister on the ball of my foot from walking twelve miles in sandals.
I got up late the next morning and spent what remained of the morning catching up on my writing. About noon, I dragged myself out the door. I really wanted to buy an external battery pack after the previous night’s experience. Mine had died early in the trip when I left it in the sun. The most likely source I could find online was the Samsung store at the Galleria del Pacifico. I also wanted to go to the
Evita Museum, the Hippodrome, and the Recoleta Cemetery while I still had my bus pass. I knew there was a stop by the shopping mall.
I walked the mile to the mall. The Samsung store didn’t have any external battery packs. I went into the mall, but found no technology shops there. I stopped for a caramel macchiato in the central court. Then I went out to the bus stop where I found a sign stating that there would be no service because of the demonstrations. While I started to get suspicious when I found the office also closed, I was not sure if the problem involved only that stop or the whole line. I walked another kilometer up Florida Street to the stop at Plaza San Martin. The tourist information office there confirmed that the entire line was striking and didn’t know if my ticket would be honored the following day. I decided to take the subway. The subway was also closed. Some bus lines were running, but buses required a bus card which could only be bought inside a subway station. Uber was also striking. Taxis were working but, being in solidarity with the striking workers, I considered them scabs. I was reduced to walking.
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Botero Sculpture in Parque Thays
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All fantasies of getting back to Palermo that day abandoned, I decided I could handle walking another mile or so to the Cemetery in Recoleta. I crossed the lovely Plaza San Martin and took Esmeralda to Avenida Liberador which I followed to Parque Thays and then turned inland for a few blocks until I reached the cemetery. The Basilica de Nuestra Señora de Pilar was open and I spent a few minutes inside resting until the sweat stopped dripping down my face. Then I went next door to the cemetery.
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| Basilica de Nuestra Señora de Pilar |
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| Plaza Liberador |
I knew that the cemetery charged admission. I was ready for that. I was not, however, expecting the admission fee to be over $15. I wasn’t interested enough to cough up that much. With the blister on the bottom of my foot, I wasn’t up for walking an additional four miles to visit the Evita Museum. At 14:45, I turned for home. It was
a long, hot walk across Recoleta. With transportation paralyzed, it was quiet. Tourists, stranded near their accommodations, were lounging in cafés. I cut across Plaza Liberador and then walked down Avenida 9 de Julio to my apartment. Avenida 9 de Julio is a massive artery, with laterals, six lanes of traffic each way, and a busway down the center. It was very quiet during the strike. The sidewalks were not quiet, however. Masses of protesters swarmed up the street wearing matching blue T-shirts. Near my apartment, I saw a group of counter-protesters, happy with the bill’s attempt to cap union dues at 2% of wages. I bought a bottle of mineral water and went upstairs relax and write.
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Avenida 9 de Julio
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February 21, 2026
Departamento Centro BA
Buenos Aires, Argentina
On my last full day in Buenos Aires, I set out early in case I wasn’t going to be able to use the hop-on hop-off bus and had to make alternate arrangements. I stopped for a coffee and a muffin at the coffee shop near my apartment and then walked the now quite familiar mile to the bus office at Galleria del Pacifico. The office was open and they gladly extended my ticket for another day. That was a relief. I got on the bus and rode it several stops to the Plaza Italia stop.
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| The Botanical Garden |
The Plaza Italia stop was the stop nearest to the Evita Museum. While not far away as the crow flies, I had to walk nearly a kilometer because I had to walk around the former zoo, now known as Ecoparque. The zoo animals are gone and the park now houses endangered native species and strives to educate the public about conservation. I didn’t take the time to visit. Across the street from the Ecoparque was the Botanical Garden. It was full of lovely mature trees and looked very inviting. The entrance, however, was not on my way.
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| The Living Room at the Evita Museum |
I arrived at the Evita Museum shortly before they opened at 11:00. The museum is housed in an early 20th Century mansion purchased by the Eva Perón Social Aid Foundation for use as a shelter for homeless women and children in 1948. After the fall of the Perón gevernment, it was used for administrative purposes until being established as a museum in 2002.
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| Eva Perón |
The museum follows Evita’s life from her childhood, through her career in radio, film, and advertising, to her marriage to Perón and subsequent political career. Evita believed that everyone deserved dignity and she advocated for the poor, elderly, and women. She established aid societies, hospitals, and schools. She was central in the successful campaign for women’s suffrage. A very popular figure, the electorate urged her to accept the position of Vice President. She declined, saying that she preferred to continue her work without being further embroiled in politics. Possibly, she knew her time was short, as she died from ovarian cancer about a year later at the age of thirty-three.
After the Evita Museum, I walked back to the Plaza Italia stop and then rode the bus into the heart of the Palermo neighborhood. It was still a little early for lunch, so I wandered around the neighborhood for awhile. There were numerous bars and cafés, shops and galleries. Some of the alleys were decorated with colorful murals. The trees were lined with mature sycamore trees, shading the sidewalks. The overall effect was attractive.
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| Plaza Serrano |
I had hoped to relax in the Plaza Serrano, in the center of Palermo, but found it filled with artisans. After browsing through their wares, I went looking for somewhere to eat. I wanted something special, since it would likely be my last real meal in Buenos Aires. I finally selected Foga, a steakhouse. They were offering a three-course lunch special for 35,000 pesos. While that was more than I would usually pay for lunch, I had pesos to burn and really wanted a good steak before I left. The meal was worth the price. I started with a mineral water and a basket of bread. The small, round loaf of homemade bread was delicious and I was very sad that I couldn’t eat much of it. I had opted for mineral water, rather than wine, but they brought me a complimentary glass of sangria. The appetizer was a plate of cheese, serrano ham, and olives. I tried the cheese and ate the ham, but left the rest. I saved room for the steak. The steak was a bife de chorizo, which sounds like a sausage, but was actually a ribeye. It was cooked medium rare and perfectly salted. It took awhile, but I devoured every bit of it. I still managed to consume a portion of flan with dulce de leche (a sort of soft caramel) for dessert. Then I needed to take another turn around the neighborhood before returning to the bus stop.
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| Murals in the Palermo Neighborhood |
This time, I got off the bus close enough to the Hipódromo to walk there without getting heat stroke. The facility stretches down Avenida del Liberador for nearly a kilometer. It contains three racetracks, two of which are only used for training. The original Belle Epoque grandstand was completed in 1876 and held only 2000 people. The current Beaux Arts grandstands replaced it in 1908. New facilities at the Tribuna Oficial contain 2,000 slot machines. The Lollapalooza Music Festival was scheduled to be held there a few weeks after I left.
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| The Hipódromo |
The Campo Argentino de Polo de Palermo is located across the street from the racetrack. The stands there can hold as many as 45,000 people. The polo season runs from September to December. Pato, Argentina’s offical sport dating from the 17th Century, is also played on this field. Also known as “horseball,” the game was originally played with a live duck inside a basket. Today, it is played with a ball sporting six leather handles. Scooping the ball off the ground from horseback requires skill and agility. Goals are scored by passing the ball through hoops located at either end of the field. I would have liked to see the game played.
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| Campo Argentino de Polo de Palermo |
Once I walked back to the bus stop, I rode the bus back towards downtown. Not relishing a hot walk down Avenida 9 de Julio, I stayed on the bus as it made an extra turn around the Plaza de Mayo and then got off on Avenida de Mayo where I could walk home in the shade. I ducked into the grocery store on the corner to buy some alfajores to take home and returned to my apartment by 16:30. I was scheduled to pay the rent at 17:00.
The landlord finally arrived about 18:00. I paid the rent and he agreed to let me check out as late as 18:00 the next day so I wouldn’t have to spend the day at the airport. I spent the evening working on a blog post.
February 28, 2026
Home
La Cruz de Huanacaxtle, Mexico
I wasn’t going to write about my trip home because I expected it to be uneventful. I took an Uber to the Ezeiza Airport. I had arrived at the Aeroparque, an airport within the city that serves domestic flights. International flights, however, leave from the Ezeiza Airport about 20 miles out of town. MY flight left at 22:05 and everything went smoothly. I arrived at Houston at 5:20 the next morning after having spent a mostly sleepless night in a middle seat.
I had just enough time to get through immigration and customs at Houston. My flight to LAX left about 7:30. I did manage to sleep most of the way to Los Angeles, since I had an aisle seat. United airlines had originally wanted to route me on a flight from LAX to Puerto Vallarta leaving only an hour after our scheduled arrival from Houston. Knowing LAX, I knew that this was not enough time to make the flight unless everything went seamlessly. Instead, I booked the United flight only as far as LAX and then booked an afternoon flight on Alaska Airlines to Puerto Vallarta. This turned out to be very fortunate, as I had to claim my luggage at LAX. When I got to Los Angeles and turned on my phone, I was inundated with messages from friends in Mexico telling me that the head of the New Generation Jalisco Cartel had been killed and all hell had broken out in Puerto Vallarta and surrounding areas. Even our little village had burning cars blocking the highway. All transportation was halted and all flights into Puerto Vallarta were canceled.
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| Dawn from My Hotel Room at LAX |
I went straight to the Alaska counter. They had already booked me on a flight at 7:00 the next morning and were kind enough to put me up in a very nice airport hotel and give me three meal vouchers. The hotel was kind enough to left me check in at 11:00 AM. The bed was amazingly comfortable and I hardly left the room until checkout time the next day.
Alaska Airlines had instituted what they call flexible travel plans because of the events in Puerto Vallarta and Guadalajara. I was able to change my flight without charge. I decided that it was a bad idea to leave the hotel at 4:00 AM without being able to determine whether or not I could get home. I changed my flight to the one at 13:43. When the 7:00 flight was indeed canceled and I heard from Mexico that international flights were going to be canceled all day, I changed my flight to the next afternoon flight, which was three days later.
My friend, Brad, kindly let me stay aboard his boat in Marina del Rey and I spent a very busy three days visiting eleven different friends and relatives. My eventual flight to Puerto Vallarta went very smoothly. The plane was so empty that they had to reassign seats to distribute the weight.
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