It's Deja Vu All Over Again

Being back in the same city, in the same hostel, doing the exact same things one year later is kind of like being in a time warp.  So if you’re an avid reader (like I know all 3 of you are), don’t bother reading any of this because it’s just like my previous trip to Buenos Aires, except I upgraded my camera so the pictures are mucho mejor.

Our Sunday started like any good Roamin Catholic’s and we attended Mass at the cathedral.  When last year, Jenny and I walked around for 30 minutes because we couldn’t find it, Kelly and I made a beeline for the church.  As luck would have it, we arrived at 10:00 am, and Mass started at 10:00 am.  Fortuitous.  Afterwards, we walked through the market in San Telmo, where each vendor sells the same fare: leather working, mate accessories, and jewelry.  The real treat is when we wandered away from the market to find some food (I was hungry – weird. So uncommon) and found ourselves some empanadas.  Super cheap, super delicious, and super friendly.  The trifecta.  The owner even allowed us to take pictures with him behind the grill.  He also gave us his name because he wanted us to post the pictures on Facebook.  

 Cathedral. Beautyfool.

Occupy Buenos Aires

Señor Empanada - Como se dice “tag me?!”

We continued through San Telmo until we reached the antiques market.  We browsed around there for a while until we (surprise, surprise) became hungry again.  We stopped at a café and enjoyed sandwiches (which Kelly enhanced with sriracha packets from Panda Express) and a bottle of wine on the courtyard patio.  After we had finished our deep discussion, which is almost always a result of the wine, we continued to La Boca. 

 San Telmo antiques market

This vendor grabbed one of her antique glasses for sale to get a little agua from her neighbor.

Lovely (please note that my impatience got the best of me so I already ate one of the olives before I took the picture)

Last year, I walked to and from La Boca and commented how sketchy it was and subsequently how my guidebook, too, warned travelers about the area.  Learning my lesson, we took a taxi instead. I was previously unimpressed with La Boca because of how crowded and touristy it is, but I dug it this time.  I got over myself and chose to embrace the kitsch instead of dog on it.  We sat at a restaurant for a tango show and tried some calamari (if you’re counting – yes, this marks lunch #3).  Kelly was all kinds of popular here with propositions from waiters like, “I want to be your husband,” “I will cook, clean, and wash for you,” and “I will make your dreams come true.” I, on the other hand, was apparently not putting out the vibe.

This woman was clearly not pleased that her outfit matched the buildings of La Boca... or perhaps more displeased with the fact that a stranger was photographing her.

 Kelly bargaining for artwork.  I think the artist was nonplussed when she stated, "I just don't think it's worth that much."

So legit.

That night, I chose to relive one of my more embarrassing moments and try my hand at tango once more. We booked the same lesson, dinner, show as last time. I noticed the price increased from 200 pesos to 250 – I’m betting the hostel is making a buck or two (or more specifically, 50 pesos (mental math)) off of the deal.  Once again, there were more women than men in the class, and once again, I found myself standing awkwardly on the side for the majority of the lesson.  The dinner was great again and so was the show.  We sat next to some Australians who gave us lots of tips about our upcoming destinations: Iguassu Falls and Rio de Janeiro.

Tango pose. A natural.

Now who wouldn't want to dance with these fine ladies?

These guys, I guess.

Probably because I was making faces like this one.

Just please look at these next two pictures. When the final pose comes around, the woman is supposed to encircle her leg around the man's leg.  I am clearly trying to put as much distance between myself and dance partner as possible without falling down.

But not Kelly.  

This. guy's. face.

Tango is perhaps best left to the professionals.

Rereading this – I sound all kinds of pitiful.  No Argentine men making advances towards me. No one wanting to dance tango with me. 

Pathetic. 

And accurate.