Photo Post: I’m in Buenos Aires!
January 9, 2009
¡Hola! I’m in Buenos Aires, eating exotic meats, drinking prodigious quantities of espresso, and being less annoying than the few other English speakers I’ve encountered.*
This is a boring photo of Jorge Luis Borges Street. I am not a very good photographer.
Look, another street! Palermo Soho is basically Greenwich Village. Seriously, Jen, put down the iPhone.
This is nice. People smoke too much for my liking, but less than I expected.
This stiltwalker looked disturbingly like an ex-boyfriend of mine. But, you know … taller.
Here is a market where independent designers each rent tiny sections, each a few feet across, and personally sell their wares. I bought some t-shirts with hand-sewn designs on them.
Seriously, someone should tell Buenos Aires that Kentucky is not where anyone goes for pizza.
I can’t believe no one in New York thought to name a bar this!
This is a bar dedicated to Brigitte Bardot, although I didn’t really get any of the Bardot paraphernalia in the photo. I also saw bars dedicated to gangster culture (decorated with images from The Godfather) and to Jackie O. The Jackie O. bar featured a very large Budweiser sign.
The first real thing I ate in Buenos Aires was a solid pound of venison with spinach and queso blanco, in tangerine sauce. It was delicious. I didn’t think to photograph it. This is the next real thing I ate, fish with a perfect cylinder of sweet potatoes. I figured I could work out any menu in Spanish, but once in this cafe, I realized that there are many varieties of fish the names of which I don’t recognize in English. Whatever this was, it turned out great.
This was a real winner. Rolled goat kid with berries. Fatty and delicious. I took one bite and said, “Oh, Christmas!” Some of the berries were clearly raspberries, but I’m thinking some cranberries must have been involved. And a lot of rosemary.
This dish was advertised as salmon prepared with white chocolate, plus something about tomatoes, pesto, vanilla, and lavender oil. I didn’t really detect any white chocolate, vanilla, or lavender. Which actually might have been a good thing. I ordered the dish because it sounded like something I’d never try elsewhere, but who really wants to eat fish that tastes like a decorative candle?
This is me using the WiFi in Plaza Serrano, which is more or less Union Square with no grass, fewer political protests, and substantially more handmade jewelry for sale.
*This includes a British woman who came into a boutique asking for “the cheapest boys’ shirts you have.” When the clerks didn’t understand her, she said, I swear: “You know, like cuánto cuesta es but LOW!”