After a rather uneventful final leg of my epic bus journey to Buenos Aires punctuated by little more than the occasional John Deer outlets and farmsteads we wended our way across the vast and green pampas to our final destination: Buenos Aires completing the longest bus ride I expect I'll ever take in my life (the final leg clocking in at over 30 hours!). As is my usual way on arrival I'd opted not to do too much planning or research, this proved to be somewhat shortsighted as the bus terminal we arrived in was on the outskirts of Buenos Aires and offered little assistance for uninformed tourist. I decided the best bet was to take a taxi into the centre of town and try to get into Hotel B.A.U.E.N. a couple of days ahead of my scheduled booking.
My taxi driver proved to be a jovial character and not for the first time in South America found the best means of communication was to cry William Wallace on finding out I was scottish. I guess they really do have a love for a freedom fighter down here in South America. I really need to figure out how to say "my mother's maiden name is Wallace" in Spanish. As we travelled towards the centre of town I was able to enjoy the smell of beef on paradillas (Argentinian BBQ) across the city and the sights on an all together much more European style of city as the balmy air flowed through the open windows and the sun advanced to wards the city's skyline.
On arrival at the hotel I jumped out of my cab and scuttled across the street to the reception of the rather grand if somewhat threadbare hotel. As I was going through the process of registration it dawned on me that I'd left my bag with all of my clothes and toiletries in the boot of the cab! My dismay was tempered by the obliging hotel staff who via committee managed to decipher my spanish and do their very best to track down my bag despite the scant details I'd provided. Alas their efforts came to nothing, although the said they wouldn't stop there and tomorrow if my bag hadn't been returned they'd review the security tapes from in front of the building. I decided not to let all of this get me down, after all I'm in a new city and I still had all my valuables. Furthermore I had a sense the taxista was a good man and there was every chance he'd return with my bag once he realised what had happened.
I went to my room and enjoyed a long overdue shower, as the powerful jet cleansed my travel weary bones I felt renewed and aware that it had been a longtime since I'd enjoyed a good meal (the buses meals were to be fair reasonably substantial but somewhat rudimentary). I headed out and strolled down a long street in the warm evening air. I found an expansive restaurant with linen table cloths after walking a few blocks and decided this was the place to try my first Argentine steak. I ordered what turned out to be a steak covring the entire large white plate accompanied by papas friatas a la provencal (chips with garlic and parsley - a treat I'm already familiar with thanks to London's own Buen Ayre), at the waiter's prompting I agreed to switch from coca-cola to a huge glass of wine from Mendoza and tucked into my feast. The lost bag seemingly already a distant memory. The steak was delicious and the wine a fine accompaniment, feeling almost painfully full I waddled back to my hotel.
On my return to the hotel I was greeted by a new concierge who quickly enquired which room I was staying in. A light went on and I realised before he'd even said it that my bag had been returned! I guess I've got a little more luck on my side than all those years ago when the absent minded child repeatedly left his coats in parks serving as goalposts in perpetuity. As I'm sure my dad would say despite it being an early Dylan piece… The Times They Are a Changin'!
No comments:
Post a Comment