20th January 2013

On Sunday I travelled a hour by train to the Tigre delta on the north side of Buenos Aires. We departed a station that seemed like a sort of ramshackle Kings Cross in London. I told Marco and he replied “the English built the railroad here” - I guess that's when we exports something other than financial expertise (not sure that's the appropriate term?), weapons, jet engines and oil know how? The platform was packed with locals, backpacks and mate flasks in hand jostling to get onboard. We settled for some floor space in the car usually reserved for bicycles and started our journey towards the delta.

After an hour or so we reached the end of the line and Tigre. On leaving the station it was clear we'd arrived to a favourite spot for locals to get out of the city and being a bright sunny Sunday it was packed. I'd imagined a slightly more rural and certainly less frantic scene but as we made our way along the river bank towards to the Puerto de Frutos I started to enjoy the hustle and bustle of local families, teenagers, elderly and twenty somethings. I think the thing to do here is take a boat to cruise through the waterways and see all of the tree covered island but the boats seemed even more crowded that the banks and the roaring diesel engines didn't seem to be to conducive to tranquil reflection or relaxation so we decided to give it a miss. I supposed that we'd arrived in a sort of Argentinian Blackpool; a feeling confirmed at least at first by the theme park, vast concrete casino and array of stalls and street sellers hocking weaved baskets, boat trips and all manner of trinketry. Thankfully there was more to come and I knew there was more to it than initially met the eye. From time to time as we wove our way through the crowds I'd catch a glimpse of a tree lined water way, offering something all together more appealing and hope sprung.

After another ten minutes of navigating the thining crowds we came found ourselves walking along a spittal of land in amongst the delta lined with cafes, restaurants and bars with views across the waterway to forest covered islands. We took a seat the one closest to the end and enjoyed some rabas (calamari) washed down with a few beers as the world passed by. My time in Buenos Aires up to now has been strongly biased towards recreation but in the glow of the sun I did manage to get some work done preparing for an interview with B.A.U.E.N. hotel. Sadly my Spanish isn't quite ready to do an in depth interview without a little help. Fortunately the ever accommodating Marco has kindly agreed to help. Interview drafted, bellies full and a little sun blushed (at least in my case) with evening approaching we made our way back to the station and onward to Buenos Aires.

Today, feeling a little aware of the budgetary drain I left the B.A.U.E.N. hotel having already extended my stay three times and moved to the Ostinatto hostel in San Telmo for the last few days of my stay in Buenos Aires. The hostel is tall and narrow with whitewashed walls and clean lines, rooms radiate from a central courtyard / landing on each floor and original wooden door frames and terracotta tiled floors. Its one of the most attractive and clean hostels I've ever visited, probably only trumped by the YHA hostel in Braemar, Scotland, although its been a few years since I last visited that one.

After grabbing some brunch (an unexciting but none the less delicious meal of bacon and scrambled eggs washed down with tea and OJ) I typed up the interview questions for the B.A.U.E.N. hotel Marco and I prepared ready for Marco's translation and working on the website to support my co-operative research (more news on this coming soon). This afternoon was spent on the roof terrace of the hostel looking across the rooftop, basking in the bright sunlight and finishing off reading my favourite book (Thomas Pynchon's Gravity's Rainbow for anyone who's interested). Tonight I'm off to a percussion night called La Bomba de Tiempo which comes highly recommended by the receptionist (and percussionist) here at the hostel.