Tango Shoe Shopping - Sights...

Going Shopping for shoes....what else to shop for in Tango Country?

Store front sidewalk, which defines property limits. Note the benches and chairs where customers may rest from their exhausting shopping sprees.


A colourful designer umbrella, all embroidered in vibrant shades.


Mural in Abasto, another historic tango district (Gardel's hang out), and a gold mine for tango gear.

Insterad of imprints of hands and feet of movie stars, one finds the lyrics of tango poems on the sidewalks of Abasto.

"What we had is finished, you told me in a Good Bye of sweetness and ice....".

Try to dance to the words of that sad story!

Somewhat more 'gritty' in Abasto, but nevertheless people sit in front of their houses watching their kids play. The idea of 'play dates', and organized entertainment seems to be foreign in these parts. Kids, however, seem to be able to 'play' imaginatively without a book of instruction to tell them how.

Abasto - filete sign over a boutique hotel entrance

Lady's bano at the Canning Club, one of the venues for tango classes and practice sessions. It is said that anyone, venturing out into the city where facilities are indeed rare, MUST carry toilet paper, which is an even rarer treasure.

I braved my first Tango Group Class and Practica at the Canning Club yesterday. This time - tango salon style - wonderful. Being a lesson, there are plenty of partners, which one changes ever so often. I danced with pony-tailed youngsters, an 8 foot tall British citizen, a Portuguese, and a whole lot of other Argentinian dancers of different level of expertese. Needless to say, the Anglosaxon was the most challenging partner.

The lesson was given in Spanish, Buenos Aires accent...That added another level of difficulty to the lesson - linguistic maneuvring through the dance related vocabulary.

Soon I will be able to 'caress the floor' with a new pair (made-to- measure) of tango shoes with a fine heel, colour plata..definitely an improvement over my 'flamenco shoes' (as per shoe maker) or 'Salvation Army shoes' (as per less kind American female aquaintance). Best of all, they will FIT my duck feet and will be a lot more affordable than ready-made footwear sold in Canada.

No wonder, there is so much dog poop around, who would want to clean up after this pack of beauties, certainly not the paseo perro (dogwalker). Dogwalking seems to be a common Buenos Aires profession.

El Congreso, downtown Buenos Aires.


Linea 'A' of the SubTe, the oldest subway line in Buenos Aires, cerca 1910. The cars are wood construction. Windows open via 'pull down' by means of a leather strap, no air conditioning here. Wooden slatted seats inside. Old-style frosted glass lamps light up the interior.
Tourist take tours on this line destination Cafe Tortoni, another Buenos Aires must-see establishment going back to dim - and dark - ages. They are usually charged $50 for the pleasure, whereas as a 'local' on pays 35 cents for a (any lenght and anywhere) subway ride, and maybe $ 5 for a cafecito. Good business for the tour operators.

The older subway stations are almost pieces of art, with filete lining the walls and wrought iron railings alongside the escalators.

Modern day literati, working over his morning coffee, with the Paseo de Resistencia sign in the background. Lots of 'resistencia' history on Avenida de Mayo; prostests and marches still take place on this elegant tree lined throroughfare.

The Mayor of Buenos Aires works here, in one of the impressive edifices on Avenida de Mayo.

Plaza de Mayo, with the Casa Rosada, Pink House in the background. Walking through this building takes the visitor back to Peronista days.

At a Milonga Practica....I watched the dancers and found, that I hardly recognized a movement. Most Milongas apparently subscribe to a rather energetic style of tango, less emphasis on
the classic salon movements. I watched for awhile, and decided not to make a fool of myself amongst the mostly under thirty crowd, who obviously have done this kind of dancing since they have emerged from their diapers.

But, there are still lessons in the Classig Salon for me...

Domingo - Day of Rest in Buenos Aires

Oasis in the City

No BBQ at home, but Portenos take their chairs and picnics to the parks...

Marble bridges lead over serene ponds, where geese, herons and ducks roam. Each one of them unaware of the 13 Million people who live just outside the parks' boundaries...

Slighly decayed, but still showing traces of former beauty, a theatre building near the Jardin Zoologico

Filete adornments on a Viejo Coche, old carriage...

Cochero Caballo with 'airconditioning'. His head is covered with a terry towel, which is altered to accommodate his ears, and decorated with ribbons and tassles.

Here is the Viejo Cochero, feeding the abundant pidgeons, and keeping some tidbits to give to his horse, which KNOWS, that treats are forthcoming.

It's definitely a Zoo at the Zoo. Line ups stretching into the streets at ever ticket counter, with hundreds of Argentinian families on a Sunday outing. But, there are pony rides while you wait to join the throngs of people already inside the vast grounds of the Zoo. The place was packed!

Now, I wonder what that's supposed to convey to passers-by?

A stone bench is heaven for a romantic interlude...

Latina in all her glory

Paths in the park flooded from last night's rain, paradise for geese...

Pergolas in the Rosedale (Rose Garden)

Streets leading through the park are blocked off on Sundays. A veritable racing piste for cyclists, runners, scate boarders and walkers; this kid is a rarity, as hardly anybody wears helmets, kids and adults alike. And definitely no disfiguring knee and elbow protectors, that would spoil the image of casual chic...

Very few indigenuous people seem to hang out in the City, but are quite prevalent in the population of street vendors.

I have yet to see a homeless person or even a beggar. But I found a homeless dog, living in an arch under a graffiti covered railway bridge. A few plastic food containers stood beside him. Obviously someone is giving him water and food. He seemed well fed, but he was obviously aged, bled from an injury, and just had enough energy to lay motionless on his man made cardboard bed.

Part of the same Railway Bridge houses a funky Cafe with a shady terrasse. The only place I could see in the entire park system, where a Bano (Lavatory) could be found. Moral of story: only go for a walk in the park if your bladder can last the distance...

A Buenos Aires staple food item: the cafecito!
This brew comes in the smallest cups (just compare it to the size of the sugar bag), it resembles fat free thick gravy made from coffee beans, and is absolutely delicious, once disguised with a good dose of sugar (fittingly packaged in satchels with tango drawings). Portenos linger for hours over one of these micro coffees (none of the Grandes, Supersized buckets of Starbucks fame). These cafecitos pack enough caffeine to drive sleep away for HOURS, hence the ability of Portenos to start partying at 11:30 p.m. and keep it up until 05:00 a.m. in the morning - another reason for me to consider these midnight Milongas with a weary eye.

As a concession to normalcy, the small cups of coffee are ALWAYS served with a couple of cookies, a glass of orange juice, and a miniscule jug of water, all on individual saucers with napkins and each bit so tiny, just right for the Little People.

No self-respecting cafe will pressure a customer to leave, even if he takes all day over his cafecito, reading the Daily Newpaper, or a book, or conducting heated debates above the latest soccer score.

And dogs are allowed in!! One of the little fourlegged guests was finishing off all the half eaten icecream left over by everyone at the table.

Ah, Victoria on Vancouver Island....this looks almost like you!

Future World Cup contenders in training - gotta start them early!

Koi Watching...

A pleasant day to say the least wandering through vast expanses of gardens and parks.

The streets of Palermo turn a little sleepy on Sundays. Shops are closed, except - of course -cafes, bistros, bars and the odd Supermercado (usually quite small grodery stores).

Another tango lesson tomorrow - have to rest my feet beforehand! I may even become sufficiently encouraged to throw myself into an afternoon (yes, they do exist) Milonga?

Palermo Parks

Hours and hours of thunderstorms during last night almost drowned the city. Grassy expanses in the many parks nearby hid behind a mirror of water, reflecting the many shade trees.

The 'pulmones de la ciudad', the Lungs of the City, are only a couple of blocks from my house. There is the Jardin Zoologico, Jardin Botanico, Parque de 3 Febrero, Jardin Japones, Jardin Rosedal, and a whole lot more.

Awakening to a relatively 'cool' day after last night's cloudburst, I went off in my new sandaly shoes for a four hour stroll. I give credit to 'Leather Shoes made in Argentina', instead of 'Plastic Shoes made in China' for surviving miles of wandering about. The locals sure know how to caress one's feet with something akin to a second skin, made from some unknown and already eaten bovine.

Resting in the shade beside a 'temporary pond'

A 'Casona', mansion, in the Botanical Garden. Most of the parks trace their origin to the avarice and love of excess of long gone dictators, who surrounded themselves and their casonas with hectares and hectares of open greenspace, elaborately land scaped and filled with statuary. In hindsight probably one of the few fortunate outcomes from tyranny - the citizens have converted the opulent private estate into public parks and gardens after their liberation (there seem to be various of those). The ambiance is absolutely lovely Old World.

Versailles anyone?

Lily Ponds - each one with it's unique statue guarding the fat Koi fish floating around in the water surrounding their base.

No racoons or otters to steel them. And the feral cat population the parks are not interested in what floats in the water, they concentrate on the song birds perching in the tree branches.

Jorge Louis Borges, the Argentinian literary giant and national icon. He was nominated for a Nobel Prize during the Forties, but lost out, due to his alleged connection/support for Fashist regimes in Italy and Germany. In the meantime, Neruda (Chilean Poet) won the coveted Prize, despite his sympathy and alliance with the Stalinist regime - go figure. The disappointment did not lessen his energy and creativity, and he still stands as one of the most revered poets and writers in literary history. He maintained a strong resistance against dictatorship, which was rampart during his lifetime in his own country, but he lived far from Argentina for many years. He died overseas, but his remains are buried here. He had turned completely blind by the end of his long, productive and intriguing life.

Street Lanterns in the City, especially the many parks, are reminders of a more romantic era of city design and planning.

Shady nooks surrounded by dark and leafy plants harbour the most thought provoking statues.

'Saturnalia' is the name of this bronze group. And it seems as if everyone of these participants had just the right amount of Argentinian wine.

Venus, gazing benevolently upon her visitors.

This is I, begging on my (young again) knees to help me abstain from walking for at least one day, in order for me and my feet to be able to face my first Milonga (tango dance). So far, all my good intentions have been walked away into oblivion in the streets and parks of Buenos Aires.

My Palermo Neighbourhood

Palermo was a workingman's neighbourhood, but has evolved into the hippest barrio of Buenos Aires. Every block has at least half a dozen street side bistros, bars and restaurants apart from the nightclubs and cafe book stores.
Architecture is a mix of 21st century and anything before that. Palermo is also a clothing shoppers paradise, dozens of designers have their boutiques right here - avantguarde, modern, chic, one-off, affordable. (I bought two pair of light leather sandals for $25 each, fit softly like gloves. I need to shed my touristy hiking boot image here, otherwise everone will address me in English) I also invested a few dollars in a designer skirt, as REAL women wear skirts here...
Interior design stores, shoe and leather stores, interspersed with supermercados for groceries, lavanderias for laundry, locutorios for internet, fruitstands, lottery shops, pharmacies...just walk one block and one can find one of everthing.

Store Front in Palermo

Definitely not a tango shoe....but quite an elevating experience for a shorter girl.

Historic entrance beside contemporary garage door (private individual garages are a rare convenience indeed, most people park in the streets or in a 'yard' like affair behind the buildings)


Designer Boutique - small, individual, elegant...but almost all of their doors are locked(airconditioning? safety?) and one rings a bell to be buzzed in.

Entrance to one of the polo stores, bronze statues of polo players guard the entrance to a vine draped fore court, past more rider statues, into the inner sanctum filled with exquisite apparel and a rich aroma of leather.

Walking in Buenos Aires is akin to maneuvring through a minefield of - dog poop. No one seems to subscribe to poop and scoop etiquette, although I have seen dog walkers with plastic bags tied to leashes, I suppose that is merely a fashion assessory, as that stuff is everwhere.

Many of the traffic lanes are still finished in cobble stone.
The side walks present an interesting mosaic of diverse finishes. It appears that each house owner is responsible for the bit of side walk in front of his property. There is tile, brick, cobble stone, asphalt, dirt...some quite inventive and attractive, others not too well maintained.

So, if one does not step into a decorative brown heap of ....., one may step into numerous holes, cracks, puddles of mud, mounts of sand, whatever the owner has left as a welcome mat.

Fresh fruit in abundance, and at absolutely incredible low prices. The duraznos (peaches) are absolutely delicious right now.

Most of the streets around my neighbourhood are tree-lined...Apartment buildings range from historic low rise to modern glass towers, none taller than maybe ten stories. All have secure entrances, needing codes and keys.

These ladies must have been the oldest and the weightiest human beings I saw all day.

Where are they hiding? Maybe they live in other neighbourhoods...

I also was surprised (or maybe not) of the almost total absence of overweight people. But, there is also a welcome absence of McDonalds, KFC, Subway, Wendy's, DunkinDonuts, Krispykreem or whatever our Northamerican preferences are. I am sure a few of them are around, but why eat prefabricated junk, if the most delectable food is offered at every corner?

Quite stylish, and very avant guarde - or maybe it only seems that way...ugly is definitely not trendy. Not a wet look hairdoo in sight, no sneakers (those are the tourists), and not a whole load of make up either, no 'gothic' and black lipstick.

The guys are exempt...shorts, t-shirts prevail. Many young men wear their hair long (not this one), parted in the middle and twirled into a tight knot in the nape of their necks, or their locks waving in the breeze a la Fabio, or pulled straight back into a pony tail.

Hardly anybody is seen slouching...

And - public affection seems de rigueur....

When I step out of my apartment I can have Argentinian Breakfast (media lunas, i.e. croissants, coffee and juice) for $3.50, or have my laundry done for a couple of dollars a bag, or buy a pretty something to wear, or head for 'Disco', the grocery store, around the corner, or pick up some fruit or some Argentininian (or other) wine and fresh baked goods. A couple of the 570 bus lines in Buenos Aires stop in front of my apartment, and the subway station is a leisurely stroll down the street.

What may tomorrow bring??