Buenos Aires – the city of meat and hummingbirds.
Having been so unilaterally focused on the broader goal of Antarctica, I forgot I was going to Buenos Aires. I surprised myself to discover I was thrust into this new city with zero research, expectations, or plans and very mediocre Spanish. Wandering through the airport, I begin muttering to myself to practice the necessary phrase of repeating “Lo siento, no sé hablar español.”
Despite the slideshow of poverty displayed through the Uber driver’s car window, images were spliced in of families and friends taking a break under a tree, having a picnic, and enjoying pleasant days where dogs run free along the grassy areas by the highway. I wonder when I last saw someone flying a kite before today.
The 5 star Faena Hotel feels like a set from Scarface. I walk down the long corridor to the residential side where an apartment weekly rental is on par with one night on the hotel side.
A younger staff member, Luis, checks me in while we fumble over each others languages. A more senior staff member behind us laughs at our moments of blankly staring at one other trying to process what the other said.
While waiting for the apartment to be ready, they seem amused as I dig through my massive suitcase for my swimsuit. Luis asks me for music recommendations, and I offer up Bibio. He insists on showing me the hotel restaurants and hops out of his desk excitedly. I stare down at the mess of half unpacked belongings by their desk, but he is moving quickly down the corridor. I run to catch up with him leaving my things strewn all over the otherwise pristine reception while the older staff laughs again at the absurdity of the situation. I’m shown a blinding white Italian restaurant with taxidermized unicorns on the wall, the bar which I’m relieved to hear also has coffee, and a low-lit Asado restaurant Luis points to and explains “It’s good, but no unicorns.”
I happily read my borrowed copy of Steinbeck’s Log of the Sea of Cortez by the pool. Meanwhile, two beautiful women in swimsuits with stunning hair and well constructed breast implants talk to groups of men sitting on either side of them. I clock that one of the men is wearing a Trump hat, a curious choice for the visitor in Latin America. Later I learn the women are a mother and daughter pair.
When I return to Luis some hours later for my things and to head to my room, he and the older staff member are listening to Bibio’s “Curls” and tell me they find his music beautiful.
Luis takes me to my room and slightly bowing sheepishly, he tells me in an appreciative but somber tone, “You’re really nice.” I get blindsided by a sadness briefly sweeping over me recalling that people are often cruel.
The week is otherwise spent with me working by the window with my camera nearby, ready and determined to catch opportune photos of hummingbird visitors – which proves to be a near impossible task. The Reserva Ecológica Costanera Sur offers respite in my mornings.
Before departing, I join a group for a mate tasting which included a couple that frequents a bar three blocks from my home in Chicago and those that returned from Antarctica sharing their excitement for the trip. In the evening, I eat at Fogón Asado chatting with a drunk older couple from Georgia enthusiastic and friendly to my right and a couple from Buenos Aires. Though unable to communicate using words with the couple, the girl and I laughed together and making faces at how much food kept coming with each course. I commend the waiter for chasing me down on my way out telling me “You forgot this”, handing me a paper, and turning back into the restaurant. Opening the paper uncovers his phone number – one of the smoothest pickup executions I’ve encountered. Despite my lack of interest, I do respect the effort men make to connect with women when its handled without expectations. I’m especially happy the societal expectation of giving chase is not one I am expected to take on.
Although it is a controversial subject given what they do to their pizza, I admit I am a fan of Argentina’s food.
The only number I end up contacting is in a friendly manner – Gabriela, a masseuse in Faena’s spa. We bonded over our cats and we wanted to learn each others languages. I am grateful for her patience and guidance during my first massage – a previously nerve wracking concept to consider being touched by strangers. I am quicker to trust most people who love animals.
In reference to Jan 4 – 10 2026