I awoke today in the cool tranquillity of my room in Hotel BAUEN at around 10am. After getting myself organised and booking in for another four nights I decided to hit the streets and explore a little of Buenos Aires.
As I walked from my hotel past the National Congress I made a left onto a grand looking boulevard called Avenida Mayo. This street like most of the others I wandered down was lined with august old buildings which reminded me that at one time Argentina was one of the richest countries in the world thanks to its huge resources of cattle and other non-agricultural industries that once thrived. Even if some of the grandeur has passed this its still a much wealthier city than any in Bolivia, it feels a long way from the chaos of La Paz. Much more like a grand european city. This feeling was further cemented by the glamorous cosmopolitan Portenos (people of the port) as I understand the people of Buenos Aires are referred to. Strolling through the streets (people walk at a more European pace rather than the painfully slow amble of the Aymara in La Paz) I could have been walking in Paris, a feeling re-enforced by the abundance of book shops.
Not only was glamour on show (and an abundance of tattoos), politics was everywhere I looked… On Avendia Mayo I passed a small march for a Co-operative called C.C.C.! And on arriving in the plaza at marking the end of the avenue I found slogans scrolled on the barriers in front of the Mayor's building and a small protest installation for the Falklands. I continued to wander for another hour or two, soaking up the atmosphere, wandering through leafy boulevards stopping briefly for a light bite to eat. Eventually I retreated to my hotel to regroup and figure out a plan for the afternoon.
Paging through the ever trusty Timeout webpages and consulting Google maps it appeared as though I was pretty close to the highly recommended La Rocletta cemetery where many of the great and the good of Argentina were buried. Once more I enjoyed a pleasant stroll through the warm streets dappled in sunshine under completely cloudless azure blue skies. La Rocletta was in the opposite direction to my morning wander and the streets had a slightly different feel. Buildings we more contemporary, although no less grand. Looking up I could see long luxurious balconies draped with an abundance of green plants which explained why I was unexpectedly dripped on in my earlier peregrinations. After twenty minutes of walking I arrived at La Rocletta where I was greeted by an enthusiastic charity collector / guide who gave me a very quick run through of where I could find the tombs of Eva Peron, a Nobel prize winner who's name escapes me and a couple of other notables I can't recollect. After carelessly opening my wallet in front of him I was encouraged to part with 50 pesos which unluckily for me was the first note that appeared. Regardless the guy was a pleasant chap and he was collecting for HIV so I happily made the donation.
As walked in though the grand doric gates I arrived in an enchanting maze of tombs and shrines commemorating notaries of Argentinian history. I think the cemetery was first consecrated in something like 1831 but the sometimes crumbling marble tombs made it feel much older. I decided to walk to the opposite side of the cemetery to the one suggested by the collector / guide; after all I was less interested in finding the grave of Eva Peron or an Irishman who'd founded the Argentine navy he'd suggested I might like to see. I wanted to find the tombs of writers and poets.
Alas my search which extended over the course of an couple of hours yielded no writers, instead I found a plethora of generals, politicians, industrialists and the founder of the Buenos Aires Rotary club. I suppose it requires the money and vanity of the wealthy to have a grand tomb built to aide one's quest for immortality. As I considered this I speculated that the writers and thinkers who were interred here had very probably been granted entry and underwritten by the very same wealthy individuals who's shrines were so prominent? Most likely their tombs were the small unmarked ones. What does it matter anyway, the weathly members of this cemetary were vaingloriously striving for immortality that is perhaps the one domain writers can inhabit shrine or not thanks to their works.
Even though I'd failed to identify the tombs of a writer, poet or thinker I was enchanted by the cemetery. It reminded me of one I'd seen in an adaption of a John Le Carre book called Tinker, Tailor, Soldier where a young english spy called Ricky Something meets a Russian agent he seduces, it really is the ideal place for a tryst or two. The narrow passages between the tombs, some brutal black expanses of marble, others crumbling stucco that wasn't quite the Italian marble the Wikipedia page suggested most were built from. None the less these were still resplendent in their dilapidated state, intricate iron gates and pillars topped out with angels or busts of the dear departed. On the whole I preferred the older tombs but it was interesting to see that there were newish ones nestled amongst the long-term residents, including the Nobel prize winners tomb that was distinctly 1970s in style.
Back in my hotel now I'm plotting my course for an evening meal. Tonight I think I'll give steak a miss, although this is only to take up Matt Phelps suggestion of Assado de Tira (beef ribs). Hopefully it'll be another carnivorous delight.
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