23rd January 2013

On Monday night I went to see La Bomba de Tiempo at Konex a former warehouse that's been turned into a cultural centre, concert venue and night club. La Bomba de Tiempo are a collective of drummers who play every Monday who are famously conducted by a rotation of the members using a variety of hand, finger and from what I could see whole body movements. Far more entertaining than Simon Rattle with his stick and penguin outfit.

I arrived early on the advice of a percussionist who works at my hostel and after scoffing a couple of carne empenadas (I'm becoming increasingly addicted to these badboys) I made my way into the venue. Everything radiates from a large courtyard where the band were set to play with a steady stream of people arriving as the main event approached. First though we were entertained by a warm up act (appropriately enough another drum group), who rather than playing on the stage were down on the ground in amongst the crowd. After working my through a litre or two of beer and absorbing the general good vibes I met with my friends Sean (Canadian forest fire fighter) and Francois (Quebecois guy I'd also met in La Paz) who despite having polished off 12 empenadas before we met seemed just as energised by the general vibes and rhythms as me.

The main act (La Bomba de Tiempo) arrived on stage around eight and began over the course of the next two hours to treat us to a cacophony of driving rhythms, divine polyrhythms and infectious energy. For me the arrival of a virtuoso bass player for a jam was the absolute highlight with his heavily groove laden bass lines acting as the perfect counterpoint to the beats. The crowd's energy built with the bands and by the end of it all there was a front to back bounce and a ton of whoops, shrieks and applause. Afterwards we piled out into the street and figured out our next move... The plan was to go to a reggae club which in the end turned out rather reggaeless (good news for me) and was actually the official afterparty. Much drink, dancing and merriment was had and I ended the night not long before sunrise.

As it was my second to last day in Buenos Aires I forced myself out of bed earlier than I normally would given the size of my hangover, thanks in no small part to the customer of drinking litres of beer rather than the good old fashioned pint. San Telmo is pretty near the port and given its prominence in the history of the city it seemed only natural to pay it a visit. Despite the intense heat (the temperature and humidity gauges seems to have risen steadily these last few days) I made it to the port which is now completely given over to luxury residential and commercial developments with only the brightly coloured derricks and a huge iron hulled tall ship serving to remind me of the past. Basically I'd discovered the Argentinian docklands. Even though it was a little sterile the bright sunshine and a rather sexy new bridge meant it wasn't a wasted journey, and if I'm honest I'm kind of a sucker for tall buildings.

As evening approached I made a break for a restaurant to grab a asado / steak fix, this time opting for a skirt steak (entrana), the obligatory papas fritas al provencal and lashings of chimicurri (I'm not sure if I've mentioned this stuff before? Its the perfect compliment for steak made of: chopped fresh parsley, garlic, and dried oregano in olive oil and red wine vinegar). If you haven't tried anything like this and want to get involved back in the UK there's a restaurant in London Fields called Buen Ayre (http://www.buenayre.co.uk/) that provides a pretty authentic asado served with chimicurri. The entrana was perfectly cooked (assuming you like it bloody as hell) and the flavour was just about the best I've known, even if it takes a little more chewing than sirloin (think rump steak tender).

After dinner I headed across town to catch up with Marco at his friend Nacho's place. There I was treated to another night of music and laughs as the two friends sat and jamed with their acoustic guitars playing a session to end all sessions with Marco on six strings and nacho on twelve. I got to hear tango, blues, swing, candombe and a little rock. Once more I found myself returning home as dawn approached, and once again I'd been treated to a musically extravaganza.