The banner under the picture says:
A place where history began
Of course, we need another alternative to the beginning of history, there are already a whole slew of these historic beginnings around the whole city of Buenos Aires. But - porque no?
They do brew industrial strength beer, with Quilmes the local factory made product. But, micro breweries are around, although their drafts tend to cost a little more. The prices are in Argentinian Pesos. A regular draft is 3.00 Canadian, a "Chop" (in German a Schoppen - those WWII immigrants influenced the local slang) is 3.25, a liter bottle is $ 5.50 etc etc. Of course, prices vary by the level of elegance the cafe/bar/bistro/restaurant offers.
Monday Night before Shrove Tuesday, long weekend for Argentinians...
Although the regular shops (like laundries, locutorios/telephone kiosks shops, seamstresses etc) are closed, everything opens late in the afternoon and stays open until the vacas (cows) come home.
Canadian Officialdom would have a fit. Kids in bars with their parents - and grandparents. Generation Gap be damned. They all hang out and go out together. Kids actually SIT on chairs, instead of throwing tantrums underneath them, adoring daddies feed them tidbits. Some mothers are right in the outside cafes/bars, discretely nursing their latest baby, which does not seem the worse for being in such a sinful environment.
Wherever there is room on the sidewalk in front of a cafe, there are chairs and umbrellas - even after the sun has set long ago.
The little ones fit right in, dressed to kill, sipping their lemonades. Here, on Plaza Serrano, a playground makes up the centre inside all the surrounding outside restaurants. Parents leave their tables to take their kids for a little turn at swings and slides, before paying their restaurant bills and heading off.
But, one looks underneath ANY of the tables and there it is. Emblematic cigarette butts, as nobody seems to be able to live without this vice. Even pregnant mothers smoke. Buenos Aires has a No Smoking - policy in effect covering the interior of restaurants, but once outside, they all light up.
Despite Palermo's reputation for a somewhat hip elegance, 'hip' takes over in certain areas. Tattoos, kinky outfits, macho boys and provocative girls....all make up for an entertaining mix.
Some of the neighbourhood ladies (and gentlemen) carry out chairs to the front of their apartment buildings and watch the goings on from their make-shift front porches.
As I mentioned before - long hair is definitely 'IN'
On top of the many restaurants, street vendors supplement the food supply for the fast food afficionados.
A little serenade maybe?
A little Antique - maybe?
World gone to the dogs. Designers even for Ropa para mascotas (clothes for pets).
Bonbon vendor...
...and the other end of the bonbon vendor.
I drank one of these industrial sized beers, and consequently felt wild enough to dance with this Tango Street Perfomer.
Note - the lady in the photo is not I - she was actually Japanese and his regular show partner. I must say, my molinos, ochos, and voleros received general applause, which shows how little the audience actually knew about Tango. But - it broke the ice for me, the next Milonga I attend will be a piece of cake, as far as self confidence is concerned.
Dogs everywhere. This lady carried her little 14 year old blind poodle around in a baby sling. Here she sits in a streetside restaurant (with her two friends, who also had dogs. One sitting on a lap, and the other being to big for a lap, under the table). Again Canadian officialdom would have a fit - all those health threaths.....
Neither restaurants, owners or the general population seem to be too concerned or suffering any ill effects from this totally degenerate custom of bringing the fourlegged family members along for a meal or a drink. The doggies all seem to know the score, none of them begs, they just 'participate', just like the aforementioned little kids.
But, laps are the preferred restaurant seat...
Moses...tied up and a prisoner of the animals gone viral on his trusty ark.
Dogwalker on my street. He had a whole bunch of them, eager to trot along to the nearby parks. But he led them for a few steps, and then the Labrador would just lay down and refuse to move another step. I mean, he just went on strike. I asked the dogwalker, whether the Lab was sick. No, he said, she just does not want to go away from home and plops down whenever she sees another person and waits to have her belly scratched. Makes for a slow working day for the dogwalker.
The owners actually take their pets to the street, and the dogwalker is there to take over...after the requisite time exploring the park (and depositing those annoying doggie doo heaps), dogwalker returns with the dog, rings the bell, and Fido is picked up again by owner at street level. Simple! (Of course, the Labrador is on strike again)
How could one not love this neighbourhood???
