Statues and more Statues...

Not exactly a statue, but a sign placed in a small plot in the Botanical Garden, statue heaven, where the local weed 'Mate' flourishes and grows.

A memorial to an actual incident in Spain long ago, where a village population chose death over surrender in a battle.

Cover up kid, the UV index is high today!

Darling, you have to change the light bulb, my arm won't reach it...

Use Panteen shampoo and your hair will flow like silk on a breeze..

Mary had a little lamb.....the doctor fainted.

Art Deco Column

Lunchtime in the Botanical Garden, location of statues. It's cool, it's shady, it's a stone throw from Avenida Santa Fe. People bring their lunch and rest a while.

And there are the ever present Portenos in Love, taking advantage of a few moments of closeness.

However, even here in hot Latino countries, the cell phone is serious competition to the joy of a few stolen kisses. One mumbles endearments, whilst gazing fixedly at a little screen displaying the latest text message.

Open display of affection, the wonderful lack of 'modern public art' makes for a romantic environment in the centre of Palermo's Jardin Botanico.

Cat Food....

...for dozens of feral cats roaming the parks

scavenging under park benches for left-over lunch tidbits

or taking a snooze under an Agave plant

A Sunday in San Telmo

Whatever you do in San Telmo, here is a warning:
It is prohibited to gallop through the streets of the village, municipal by-law Art 36/30, Fine 10 Pesos.
OK, ones takes heed!

I spent the grand sum of 35 cents to travel by bus for about half an hour from Palermo to San Telmo, which is one of the prime destinations on a Sunday for locals and tourists alike. Reason: an absolutely incredible antique fair on Plaza Telmo, as well as a host of street performers plying their trade.

According to 'Frommers': San Telmo is the birth-place of Buenos Aires.It evolved from a 19th century elite residential neighbourhood of aristrocratic families and palatial residences to a rough and tumble district of conventillos (multi-family tenements). During the second half of the 20th century it slid into further disrepute. Now, new hotels, restaurants, clubs and art galleries spearhead another transformation into a fashionable, if somewhat scruffy, district.

Example of one of the 'mansions', now turned into apartments, shops, or boutique hotels.

Of course, with La Boca and Caminito (the birth-place of tango) so close, what else but a street dedicated to Tango.

Plaza Dorrego is occupied by dozens of vendor stalls in the centre under shady trees. The surrounding streets are filled with one open air cafe after another.

Coloured Crystal

Feather dusters anyone?

Copper pots, which look good here, as they are continuously polished by the vendor. Unless I could buy the polisher together with the pots....no copper pots for me.

Saddlery items in one of the many antique stores surrounding the plaza

Soda fountain bottles in almost every colour imaginable

I am an honest man, would I try and charge you more than what it is worth????

One gallery example...

Kids seem to be interested - or disinterested - in similar things all over the world. Hundreds of people trudged by this little guy, absorbed in his toy electronic game.

Plaine Aire Concerto de Aranjuez

Oswaldo y su mujer....they seem to be a permanent icon of Plaza Dorrego, performing their tango on a couple of sheets of ply wood on top of the cobble stones. Everybody who ever visited Buenos Aires has seen these two wonderful old, but vivacious people, who must be the most famous street performers in the entire city.

Youth before a sign indicating direction to the Penitentiary Museum

Street adjoining Plaza Dorrego

Cantante singing favourites of his idol, Carlos Gardel.

Street vendor kid, practising folkloric drums

Empanadas anyone, or maybe bonbons?

Counting donations after an open air tango performance. Would anyone, who was not borne here, or has any brains, DARE to dance on those cobble stone streets with stiletto heels?

Strolling around the neighbourhood....

Delivery to Plaza Serrano in Palermo. A Viejo Cochero has somehow found his way into the neighbourhood to deliver a carriage load of people to one of the many bistros surrounding the plaza

Every corner seems to open a window into a bygone era, many of the buildings date back to the turn of the century - the 18th to the 19th century that is.


Some of the trees lining the Avenidas and Calles are in full summer bloom...

Calle Armenia - now I know why the name. There are restaurants, churches, community halls and shops - all Armenian and identified in both, Spanish and Armenian,languages.


Another typical street scene, the different coloured houses seem to blend perfectly together


There are a number of boutique hotels in the area, most of them in historic buildings - one wonders how the plumbing is functioning, if it is functioning at all...

Still Life of store-front Mannequin gazing at dog poop (the brown blobs in the foreground).


The person on the right is the male....Argentinians of either sex seem to love long flowing hair...

One of the many apartment caretakers. I wish I could borrow this one to polish my brass work (on Millennium Dragon) to such a mirror smooth shine.

Milonguera - that is I!!!

Confiteria Ideal...
After my third lesson with one of the 'maestros' of tango salon, I ventured out for one of the dozens of group lessons, which are held all over the city in venues ranging from basket ball halls (Sunderland) to Confiteria Ideal (scenes of Last Tango in Paris with Marlon Brando were filmed here). I paid my lesson dues at the entrance - about $8.
However, little did I know, the lessons were merely a part of a Matinee Milonga, already in progress. Although the photo looks somewhat open spaced, dancers were crowded together like sardines moving around the polished marble floor.
Near the bar in back of the dance floor, lesson participants - arriving straight from the airport from USA, Canada or Europe - gathered to experience their first exposure to tango. I skipped that and practiced the cabecera (??head turning-eye contact-nod & smile??) and had my first contact.
Hmmm.....I still look like a tourist with my 'cerrado' shoes with low thick heels. Before stepping onto the dance floor, my dancing prospect cast one contemptive glance at those dreadful zapatos, and I could see that he regretted ever asking this woman clad in disastrous Milonga foot apparel (I) to dance. My Argentinian partner lead me around the floor, sort of, and immediatly tried to convince me to take private lessons with him, after he reassured me that I danced quite well. Now all this interchange occurs in Argentinian Spanish, which has a lot of jjjjs and che-es in it, with a lot of sss-es missing, so things are a little stumbly as it is.
I fabricated some excuse, but nevertheless, after the end of the tanda (set of dances) he sat down at the next table and kept up the marketing exercise. But, one just looks away to discourage any more advances, which were definitely not inspired by my irresistible beauty, but by my status as a foreign female.
I was luckier with my next dancer, diminuitive, but knowledgeable, and he led me around the dancefloor without any mishap or major embarassement - he even ignored my shoes!!
Well, the ice is broken....at least I will feel less intimidated for the next one.
And that was not slow in materializing. Today, I made my way to Sonia Paralda's class in Casa Galicia near Congreso, a somewhat less savoury neighbourhood. The salon, however, had a foot friendly wooden floor, as long as one could dance around the cracks between the boards, which were wide enough to swallow a few stiletto heels. Portenos ignore those unimportant hazards, and the place was packed again. I practiced and danced (cost $8 for lesson and dance) until my feet gave up.

Big Brother is watching...

There must be an election in the offing. Cristina Kirchner is still president, however the competition is mustering arms. This party is advertising it's merits and ideals with the help of long dead, but still revered by some, Juan and Evita Peron.

National Institute of Juan Peron.

This arrangment adorned the sidewalk of Avenida de Mayo

Palacio Barolo, one of the oldest, highest and most ornate buildings on Avenida de Mayo. 16 stories high. One reaches the top by way of one of those old fashioned creaky cage elevators, with wrought iron doors (manual) or via marble stairs.

On the 16th floor, in the very top of the cupola is one of the tango apparel stores, Tango Moda.

For today, admiring the facade was enough for me...

It must have been soccer day. The city was innundated with fans wearing either yellow and black or blue and white shirts. I suppose the yellow and black team won, as convoys of buses, horns honking, blasted their way through the main drag, Ave 9 Julio. The yellow and black fans waved their shirts from the bus window, yelling and laughing; and police cars with their sirens blaring bracketed the line of vehicles.

Corner of Mayo and 9 Julio. One wonders, whether this is intentional decoration of just some very inventive 'graffiti art'.

Ave de Mayo was blocked of by protesters (demanding affordable housing), and this is a rare view of Mayo without bumper to bumper traffic. I walked past the protesters, did not take photos, as political 'incidents' are best ignored or avoided by foreigners. Most Portenos seem to ignore the blockade as well....except for the thousands of cars and buses, who had to be re-directed through one of the many narrow almost impassable side streets. Made for a super interesting traffic jam, nonchalantly managed by dozens of local police.