Tuesday began with a very slow start after we had come to the conclusion that we could not continue to explore at the rate we were going. We got up a little later than usual and did nothing but eat assorted and rather strange pastries in the hostel and some home-sickness-inducing avo on toast. Under the ruse of learning Spanish, we lazed around in the lounge of the Elefante Rosa and rested the soles of our well worn souls. At about midday, after a rather failed attempt to contact a technologically impaired screaming Sharon on Skype, we packed a backpack and headed off to the Subte. We arrived at the Plaza de Mayo, which is the political capital of the city and quite a bustling hub. Here is where we decided to attempt to embrace BA's seemingly locals-only bus service. In order to master said service, according to our guide book, one simply needs to purchase the bus booklet from your nearest news-stand. That involves finding one, asking for it in Spanish, trying to understand how much the dude is telling you it costs, finding that amount in your wallet without showing the whole street you're a tourist, and saying 'Gracias' at the end of the transaction. The latter of which I must admit I think I did exceptionally convincingly.
When we arrived in the harbour town we were very pleasantly surprised by the Muizenberg Beach Huts stacked haphazardly on top of one another. After a delightful stroll around the colourful area being harassed by restaurant hawkers and watching some clearly very underpaid blue-collar Tango dancers, we settled down in La Perla - a place recommended by our increasingly less reliable guide book. After very mediocre fare but a good helping of people watching, we braved the reduced but ridiculous public transport and headed home. On the way though, we couldn't resist the temptation to stop off at the famous Plaza Dorrego for the customary peanuts in their shells, quarts beers and some well deserved shade, as well as the ever popular activity of being attacked by pigeons.
Once we arrived home we watched Easy A on the computer - a decidedly excellent movie I must add - and made some lovely supper. We had picked up a small forest of basil and a wheelbarrow of tomatoes from a little veggie store in our road. Eight rand poorer, we picked up a few more supplies at the grocery store below the Elefante and made a Spaghetti Napolitana with olives, basil, mushrooms and fresh tomatoes, and accompanied it with our left over Malbec. They certainly do make good food here at the Elefante.
|Tigre - Sweden/Hawaii|
Yesterday we overslept. Not the best day to do so considering our itinerary. After chatting to an American couple over breakfast we convinced them to join us for the day. We headed up to the Tigre river, a good way North East of BA into the Deltas. It is where the Portenos go to get back to nature, away from the hustle and bustle of the big bad city, and to do the things that they do best - drink and tan. Now we know why they all have such golden brown skin. Taking a cruise along the river you see them lined up on the grass on plastic deck chairs like a field of sunflowers, rotating towards the sun.
|These guys should NOT throw stones.|
|The AWESOME ferris wheel.|