South American Adventure - Day 15 - Buenos Aires
Day 15 - Saturday, March 13, 2010: “What’s new, Buenos Aires?”
[Steve writes]This morning started off via the alarm clock, but since we got our one hour back, it didn’t feel as harried as it was the previous day in Montevideo. However, today we actually had to be somewhere at a certain time, so it was shower, get ready, and head out into what promised to be another warm, sunny day.
As has been the custom on this cruise, the Star Princess was docked at one of the container piers, so it was a Container City tour on the bus that took us to the terminal. We met our guide, Jessica from Buenos Tours, just before 9:00 at the rendezvous point inside the fairly modern terminal. I had found this tour company recommended by someone on cruisecritic.com, contacted them, and they set us up with a personal guide for a 7-hour tour, for US $100 per person. It was certainly worth it, as you’ll soon read.
The three of us hopped into a taxi and headed toward the San Telmo neighborhood, south of central Buenos Aires. She wanted to start our tour there, because when the city was founded in the mid-1500s by the Spanish, this area was closer to the Rio de la Plata (the River Plate, as in silver plate) on the outskirts of the central four-block area. She compared it to the Lower East Side in New York City, it was a fairly apt comparison.
We saw an example what had once been a Spanish colonial-style house for one wealthy family. It was a two-story affair, narrow but very deep. The downstairs rooms were for the parlor, dining room, family room, kitchen, staff, etc. The upstairs rooms were the bedrooms. All of these opened on to a long open-air courtyard. There was plenty of the original beautiful tile work still intact on the floors.
Over time, by the mid-19th century, as Argentina boomed and millions of immigrants arrived from Europe (mostly Italy and Germany), the owners of these homes moved to much grander homes north of the central city (more on those later). In their place, many poor immigrant families occupied the various rooms that had been enjoyed by just one family. Very similar to New York City, indeed.
The San Telmo neighborhood, which fell into hard times in the mid-to-late 20th century, is starting to experience a renewal, as antique stores and bistros fill the former commercial spaces. We visited a former fruit and produce market that was now a major antiques mall (although there were still plenty of stands of produce and fruit). Since it was Saturday morning, and the porteños (Buenos Aires residents) were still waking up, most of the storefronts were closed and the streets fairly quiet.
As we continued our walk toward the city center, we saw many examples of the slapdash style of South American architecture: 18th century two-story Spanish style building next to a late 19th century Beaux-Arts masterpiece, next to a 1970s architectural horror of an apartment tower. While there certainly were some newer buildings that at least tried to adhere to the general building lines around them, others seemed as if they were plopped down from another galaxy.
I should say a little bit about our guide: originally from northern New Jersey, Jessica was studying Spanish and South American history in Chicago. A few years ago she wanted to immerse herself in this culture and ended up in Buenos Aires. And she has stayed here ever since (she actually is trying to become a citizen as well). She got connected with Allan, the British founder of Buenos Tours, and has been doing the tour guide routine ever since (sometimes part-time, particularly in the quieter winter season here).
As warned by Tom and Bruce, the way that Spanish is pronounced here is different from “standard” Latin American Spanish (as if there is such a thing). The porteños make “Buenos dias” into “Bueno dia”, and even more challenging for the listener, make double-l’s and y’s into a sort of “zh” sound (instead of the standard “y” sound). For example, “Mayo” is pronounced “Mazho” and “Me llamo Steve” becomes “Me zhamo Steve”. Still, it’s easier than Catalan!
Before leaving the area of San Telmo, we stopped at an intersection that had many three-story buildings in the late colonial style, most with restaurants and bars on the ground floor. Jessica told us that these were originally brothels, and since there were many men to one woman, the owners would have musicians play to keep the men entertained as they waited to get in. As they were entertained, they started to dance with each other so that by the time they got to dance with a real woman, they could show their prowess. And this, boys and girls, was how the tango was born. It wasn’t until the early 20th century that lyrics were put to these songs, making their popularity spread.
Since this was all happening in the lower-class part of town, the upper-class wanted nothing to do with the tango. But the dance spread to Paris by the late teens, and when it became popular there, it was suddenly fashionable with the elite. And then it was fashionable around the globe. There are many tango shows with live bands, and while we didn’t have time to attend one, we talked to people who did and said they were marvelous. Just remember: it all began with two men dancing.
Within a an hour we had reached the area that represented the founding town of Buenos Aires, originally a four-block square area that mainly consisted of a church and its usual accoutrements: school, housing, etc. The original church, of the Jesuit order, is still standing. Looking upon it is like looking upon so many central and south American Spanish churches built from the mid-1700s to the mid-1800s: white stucco, towers with curvy bases, large brown tiles for the flooring. You’ve seen them in dozens of westerns.
Another nearby church, of the Dominican order, had a beautiful façade, but we noticed the scaffolding and wood slats that were place in the front between the first and second stories. Jessica pointed out that this wasn’t due to renovation, but due to the fact that the façade was crumbling due to age and high-humidity. Rather than have a piece of masonry fall on an unsuspecting visitor, they erected the scaffolding to keep things from falling that far. Pity, because it seemed worth preserving.
[Insert picture of said church here]
Allan wanted to get a map of Buenos Aires and Argentina, so we made a stop into the oldest continuously operating bookstore in the city, La Libreria de Avila. The bookstore had been in the same location and owned by the same family since the late 19th century. It had that wonderful musty feel of older bookstores, even if the décor only had a few remnants of its original look (including some beautiful wooden staircases). The maps were acquired, and we continued our trek toward the center.
Ultimately, we ended up at one of the most famous spots in Buenos Aires, the Plaza de Mayo. This square had been established in colonial times, and remains an important part in the city’s cultural fabric. On one side, closest toward the river, is the Casa Rosada (Pink House), similar to our White House. However, Jessica pointed out that the president and first lady don’t live in the building: it’s the main offices of the government. Anyway, it looked far more rust-colored than pink.
The Casa Rosada also has many balconies that face the Plaza de Mayo, and it was on one of these that Juan Péron spoke to the 200,000 people that had gathered in the plaza to protest his arrest by the governing military leaders. The military government gave in, and Péron was elected the next year. And this was also the spot that was the setting for Evita‘s “Don’t for Cry for Me, Argentina” as imagined by Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice.
At the opposite end of the plaza was the original colonial administration building, again in typical Spanish style with white stucco. Apparently, the building used to be much wider before the “Parisification” of Buenos Aires (that is, making grand boulevards that sliced through existing neighborhoods and buildings). In this case, two large boulevards on either side of the administration building were just lopped off. Where the original had twelve archways at grand level, the current version has six.
The one building we did go in on the plaza was the very large and very grand Metropolitan Church. From the outside it looked less like a church and more like the Bank of England (worshipping a different god, no doubt). But the inside was beautiful, with plenty of ornate decoration and artwork in each of the side chapels. There was also the tomb of General Belgrano, one of the founding fathers of independent Argentina and revered throughout southern South America. It was large and situated in its own space between the chapels.
I was excited about our next adventure: taking the oldest subway line (the “A” line) in the city. Originally built by the English in 1918, this line starts at Plaza de Mayo and heads west. Half a dozen other lines were built, but this one retains its original wooden coaches (which are in pretty good shape). Like the number 1 line in Paris, the doors have to be opened manually. Allan got some great footage inside, even though we only rode for one stop. The fare was 1.70 pesos, which worked out to about forty-five cents. And Jessica treated!
When we got out of the subway, we headed for a delightful break at the city’s renowned Café Tortoni. The interior just screamed Belle Epoque Paris of the late 19th century, with an ornate stained glass ceiling, tile flooring, and nattily-dressed waiters. Allan and had a local favorite, a thick hot cocoa into which you dipped your churros (long, donut-like pastries sprinkled with sugar). Between the cocoa and the historic atmosphere of the place, it was heavenly.
After this short repast, Allan bought some athletic socks at a nearby store, and we walked to the center of the widest boulevard in the world, Avenida 9 de Julio. This street has 18 lanes of traffic divided into several sections, and is wider than the Champs Elysées in Paris. At the very center of this huge avenue that is like a wide gash through the city is an obelisk. The whole affair was quite breathtaking, and certainly was something to see. Apparently this wasn’t in the master city plan of the late 19th century, but was done in the 1920s and 30s. Because of that, many Belle Epoque era buildings were lost in this area, although a few remain.
This is probably a good place to note that there were very few examples of good modern architecture in this city. Like Montevideo, some copies of mid-50s International Style, with the lines ruined by floor after floor of exterior air conditioners. Jessica said that they just can’t seem to manage central air conditioning well in this country.
We went down to the subway again, this time the “C” line, and headed northeast toward Recolata and the city’s more fashionable neighborhoods. No wooden car interiors this time, but it seemed to work and was well used by the populace, even on a Saturday.
We exited the subway at Plaza San Martin (another famous general and pal of Belgrano) and the difference was remarkable: as if we’d come up in a nice part of Paris. The scale and style were very reminiscent of that city, which lent credence to why Buenos Aires is referred to as the “Paris of South America”. The last time we checked in with the elite of Buenos Aires, they had fled the older part of town (remember San Telmo?) and used their enormous wealth from cattle and grain operations to build magnificent homes in the Recolata neighborhood. Having seen more than our fare share of mansions around the world, even Allan and I were impressed by the size of some of these residences. Unfortunately, by the mid 20th century most of the wealth was falling out of their hands and the houses had to be sold. Most are now used as government office buildings or embassies.
Speaking of embassies, one funny story Jessica told us had to do with the French Embassy. As one would expect, it was situated in a very grand and beautiful Beaux Arts building in this grand beautiful neighborhood. When the city was building the Avenida 9 de Julio, the government needed the building torn down. The French replied, “Non”. And it still stands, remaining the one place on the avenue that is not as wide as everywhere else.
We continued strolling through the neighborhood, enjoying the quiet tree-lined streets and mix of styles of apartment buildings and condominium towers. We stopped for an incredible lunch at Café Sanjuanina. This fifty-year old restaurant was very popular with the locals, and we sat in the basement area. Their specialty was empanadas (meat pies), and these were some of the best either of us had eaten. I had a meat pie and a Napolitana (tomato and cheese filling). Allan had the latter and a ham-and-cheese filled one. We also had the ubiquitous French fries, but made them more enjoyable by ordering the Provoleta: a hunk of provolone heated to melting in a little skillet and served piping hot at the table.
Our waiter was a kick, and complimented me on my good Argentine accent. He also brought some dessert wine in little glasses (what one would call a digestif). It made a nice finish, even though I made a face. He responded to my facial expression by bringing another glass for me. When I passed this on to Allan, the waiter brought yet another glass of this stuff, this time in a large glass with a hunk of ice in it. We all had a good laugh…and left most sated and relaxed.
We made two more retail stops: the first at the very charming Vassalisa Chocolates, which looked so prissy. Elegant and rose-colored, with a beautiful chandelier in the middle and two chic young women behind the counter. Allan bought a half-dozen assortment (two each of chocolate, cappuccino, and caramelized orange) and I’m happy to report that the quality lived up to the setting. The second stop was at a pharmacy (farmacia) for baby powder. Hardly prissy, but ever so useful in the heat.
As we headed toward Recoleta Cemetery (our last stop on the tour), we passed several of the city’s most prestigious hotels, each more glamorous than the next. Between these grand edifices were high-end shops (Ralph Lauren, one of Allan's favorites, has an entire 19th century home as his store) and more condo/apartments.
When we got to the park outside Recoleta Cemetery, we ran into Tom and Bruce, who were lunching with friends at a nearby outdoor restaurant. We got to say the goodbyes that we’d been unable to do the night before on the ship. They seemed quite happy to be on their home turf once again.
Just as the city’s elite had moved north and east, they had to have an elaborate and grand cemetery to bury their dead. And Recoleta Cemetery was just that: an elaborate and large “City of the Dead”. This time, instead of trying to outdo each other with grand houses, the rich outdid each other with grand above-ground mausoleums. I’d never seen anything quite like it: it went on for over four solid city blocks. Did I mention at this point in the day that the sun was blasting down, and poor Allan had to try to find shade in whatever way he could (I would not find my hat till we got to Rio - Allan).
Not all the mausoleums were old: one was a beautiful example from 1970, erected by the parents of an only daughter who was killed (along with her husband) on their honeymoon while skiing in Switzerland. This probably was one of the most moving things I’d seen all day.
The most popular mausoleum, however, belonged to the Duarte Family. This is where the body of Eva Duarte Péron is buried. And with that another story: it seems that not long after her death in the early 1950s, Evita’s body went missing for over 16 years. Ultimately in the early 1970s, it was discovered that her body was in an unmarked grave on the outskirts of Milan, Italy. The coffin was retrieved, and at one point was kept on the dining room table of the now exiled Juan Péron and his third wife Isabel in Barcelona. It was at Isabel’s request that Eva’s body be buried in the Duarte family crypt (Juan is buried in his hometown elsewhere in Argentina). There are always mounds of flowers at this site, and a crowd to go with them.
This marked the end of our wonderful guided tour. We paid Jessica the balance of our tour cost, and she put us in a cab for the cruise ship terminal. It would have been nice to see all of the wonderful art being sold in the park, but at this point we were just hot and tired.
I did manage to buy a maté cup before boarding the ship. After we got on board, we rested for a while. Before dinner, I headed to the deck on top of the bridge to watch our careful departure from the pier (it was very tight maneuvering). Dinner was just the two of us, and we were glad to have Laurentiu back, providing his excellent recommendations.
[Steve writes]This morning started off via the alarm clock, but since we got our one hour back, it didn’t feel as harried as it was the previous day in Montevideo. However, today we actually had to be somewhere at a certain time, so it was shower, get ready, and head out into what promised to be another warm, sunny day.
As has been the custom on this cruise, the Star Princess was docked at one of the container piers, so it was a Container City tour on the bus that took us to the terminal. We met our guide, Jessica from Buenos Tours, just before 9:00 at the rendezvous point inside the fairly modern terminal. I had found this tour company recommended by someone on cruisecritic.com, contacted them, and they set us up with a personal guide for a 7-hour tour, for US $100 per person. It was certainly worth it, as you’ll soon read.
The three of us hopped into a taxi and headed toward the San Telmo neighborhood, south of central Buenos Aires. She wanted to start our tour there, because when the city was founded in the mid-1500s by the Spanish, this area was closer to the Rio de la Plata (the River Plate, as in silver plate) on the outskirts of the central four-block area. She compared it to the Lower East Side in New York City, it was a fairly apt comparison.
We saw an example what had once been a Spanish colonial-style house for one wealthy family. It was a two-story affair, narrow but very deep. The downstairs rooms were for the parlor, dining room, family room, kitchen, staff, etc. The upstairs rooms were the bedrooms. All of these opened on to a long open-air courtyard. There was plenty of the original beautiful tile work still intact on the floors.
Over time, by the mid-19th century, as Argentina boomed and millions of immigrants arrived from Europe (mostly Italy and Germany), the owners of these homes moved to much grander homes north of the central city (more on those later). In their place, many poor immigrant families occupied the various rooms that had been enjoyed by just one family. Very similar to New York City, indeed.
The San Telmo neighborhood, which fell into hard times in the mid-to-late 20th century, is starting to experience a renewal, as antique stores and bistros fill the former commercial spaces. We visited a former fruit and produce market that was now a major antiques mall (although there were still plenty of stands of produce and fruit). Since it was Saturday morning, and the porteños (Buenos Aires residents) were still waking up, most of the storefronts were closed and the streets fairly quiet.
As we continued our walk toward the city center, we saw many examples of the slapdash style of South American architecture: 18th century two-story Spanish style building next to a late 19th century Beaux-Arts masterpiece, next to a 1970s architectural horror of an apartment tower. While there certainly were some newer buildings that at least tried to adhere to the general building lines around them, others seemed as if they were plopped down from another galaxy.
I should say a little bit about our guide: originally from northern New Jersey, Jessica was studying Spanish and South American history in Chicago. A few years ago she wanted to immerse herself in this culture and ended up in Buenos Aires. And she has stayed here ever since (she actually is trying to become a citizen as well). She got connected with Allan, the British founder of Buenos Tours, and has been doing the tour guide routine ever since (sometimes part-time, particularly in the quieter winter season here).
As warned by Tom and Bruce, the way that Spanish is pronounced here is different from “standard” Latin American Spanish (as if there is such a thing). The porteños make “Buenos dias” into “Bueno dia”, and even more challenging for the listener, make double-l’s and y’s into a sort of “zh” sound (instead of the standard “y” sound). For example, “Mayo” is pronounced “Mazho” and “Me llamo Steve” becomes “Me zhamo Steve”. Still, it’s easier than Catalan!
Before leaving the area of San Telmo, we stopped at an intersection that had many three-story buildings in the late colonial style, most with restaurants and bars on the ground floor. Jessica told us that these were originally brothels, and since there were many men to one woman, the owners would have musicians play to keep the men entertained as they waited to get in. As they were entertained, they started to dance with each other so that by the time they got to dance with a real woman, they could show their prowess. And this, boys and girls, was how the tango was born. It wasn’t until the early 20th century that lyrics were put to these songs, making their popularity spread.
Since this was all happening in the lower-class part of town, the upper-class wanted nothing to do with the tango. But the dance spread to Paris by the late teens, and when it became popular there, it was suddenly fashionable with the elite. And then it was fashionable around the globe. There are many tango shows with live bands, and while we didn’t have time to attend one, we talked to people who did and said they were marvelous. Just remember: it all began with two men dancing.
Within a an hour we had reached the area that represented the founding town of Buenos Aires, originally a four-block square area that mainly consisted of a church and its usual accoutrements: school, housing, etc. The original church, of the Jesuit order, is still standing. Looking upon it is like looking upon so many central and south American Spanish churches built from the mid-1700s to the mid-1800s: white stucco, towers with curvy bases, large brown tiles for the flooring. You’ve seen them in dozens of westerns.
Another nearby church, of the Dominican order, had a beautiful façade, but we noticed the scaffolding and wood slats that were place in the front between the first and second stories. Jessica pointed out that this wasn’t due to renovation, but due to the fact that the façade was crumbling due to age and high-humidity. Rather than have a piece of masonry fall on an unsuspecting visitor, they erected the scaffolding to keep things from falling that far. Pity, because it seemed worth preserving.
[Insert picture of said church here]
Allan wanted to get a map of Buenos Aires and Argentina, so we made a stop into the oldest continuously operating bookstore in the city, La Libreria de Avila. The bookstore had been in the same location and owned by the same family since the late 19th century. It had that wonderful musty feel of older bookstores, even if the décor only had a few remnants of its original look (including some beautiful wooden staircases). The maps were acquired, and we continued our trek toward the center.
Ultimately, we ended up at one of the most famous spots in Buenos Aires, the Plaza de Mayo. This square had been established in colonial times, and remains an important part in the city’s cultural fabric. On one side, closest toward the river, is the Casa Rosada (Pink House), similar to our White House. However, Jessica pointed out that the president and first lady don’t live in the building: it’s the main offices of the government. Anyway, it looked far more rust-colored than pink.
The Casa Rosada also has many balconies that face the Plaza de Mayo, and it was on one of these that Juan Péron spoke to the 200,000 people that had gathered in the plaza to protest his arrest by the governing military leaders. The military government gave in, and Péron was elected the next year. And this was also the spot that was the setting for Evita‘s “Don’t for Cry for Me, Argentina” as imagined by Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice.
At the opposite end of the plaza was the original colonial administration building, again in typical Spanish style with white stucco. Apparently, the building used to be much wider before the “Parisification” of Buenos Aires (that is, making grand boulevards that sliced through existing neighborhoods and buildings). In this case, two large boulevards on either side of the administration building were just lopped off. Where the original had twelve archways at grand level, the current version has six.
The one building we did go in on the plaza was the very large and very grand Metropolitan Church. From the outside it looked less like a church and more like the Bank of England (worshipping a different god, no doubt). But the inside was beautiful, with plenty of ornate decoration and artwork in each of the side chapels. There was also the tomb of General Belgrano, one of the founding fathers of independent Argentina and revered throughout southern South America. It was large and situated in its own space between the chapels.
I was excited about our next adventure: taking the oldest subway line (the “A” line) in the city. Originally built by the English in 1918, this line starts at Plaza de Mayo and heads west. Half a dozen other lines were built, but this one retains its original wooden coaches (which are in pretty good shape). Like the number 1 line in Paris, the doors have to be opened manually. Allan got some great footage inside, even though we only rode for one stop. The fare was 1.70 pesos, which worked out to about forty-five cents. And Jessica treated!
When we got out of the subway, we headed for a delightful break at the city’s renowned Café Tortoni. The interior just screamed Belle Epoque Paris of the late 19th century, with an ornate stained glass ceiling, tile flooring, and nattily-dressed waiters. Allan and had a local favorite, a thick hot cocoa into which you dipped your churros (long, donut-like pastries sprinkled with sugar). Between the cocoa and the historic atmosphere of the place, it was heavenly.
After this short repast, Allan bought some athletic socks at a nearby store, and we walked to the center of the widest boulevard in the world, Avenida 9 de Julio. This street has 18 lanes of traffic divided into several sections, and is wider than the Champs Elysées in Paris. At the very center of this huge avenue that is like a wide gash through the city is an obelisk. The whole affair was quite breathtaking, and certainly was something to see. Apparently this wasn’t in the master city plan of the late 19th century, but was done in the 1920s and 30s. Because of that, many Belle Epoque era buildings were lost in this area, although a few remain.
This is probably a good place to note that there were very few examples of good modern architecture in this city. Like Montevideo, some copies of mid-50s International Style, with the lines ruined by floor after floor of exterior air conditioners. Jessica said that they just can’t seem to manage central air conditioning well in this country.
We went down to the subway again, this time the “C” line, and headed northeast toward Recolata and the city’s more fashionable neighborhoods. No wooden car interiors this time, but it seemed to work and was well used by the populace, even on a Saturday.
We exited the subway at Plaza San Martin (another famous general and pal of Belgrano) and the difference was remarkable: as if we’d come up in a nice part of Paris. The scale and style were very reminiscent of that city, which lent credence to why Buenos Aires is referred to as the “Paris of South America”. The last time we checked in with the elite of Buenos Aires, they had fled the older part of town (remember San Telmo?) and used their enormous wealth from cattle and grain operations to build magnificent homes in the Recolata neighborhood. Having seen more than our fare share of mansions around the world, even Allan and I were impressed by the size of some of these residences. Unfortunately, by the mid 20th century most of the wealth was falling out of their hands and the houses had to be sold. Most are now used as government office buildings or embassies.
Speaking of embassies, one funny story Jessica told us had to do with the French Embassy. As one would expect, it was situated in a very grand and beautiful Beaux Arts building in this grand beautiful neighborhood. When the city was building the Avenida 9 de Julio, the government needed the building torn down. The French replied, “Non”. And it still stands, remaining the one place on the avenue that is not as wide as everywhere else.
We continued strolling through the neighborhood, enjoying the quiet tree-lined streets and mix of styles of apartment buildings and condominium towers. We stopped for an incredible lunch at Café Sanjuanina. This fifty-year old restaurant was very popular with the locals, and we sat in the basement area. Their specialty was empanadas (meat pies), and these were some of the best either of us had eaten. I had a meat pie and a Napolitana (tomato and cheese filling). Allan had the latter and a ham-and-cheese filled one. We also had the ubiquitous French fries, but made them more enjoyable by ordering the Provoleta: a hunk of provolone heated to melting in a little skillet and served piping hot at the table.
Our waiter was a kick, and complimented me on my good Argentine accent. He also brought some dessert wine in little glasses (what one would call a digestif). It made a nice finish, even though I made a face. He responded to my facial expression by bringing another glass for me. When I passed this on to Allan, the waiter brought yet another glass of this stuff, this time in a large glass with a hunk of ice in it. We all had a good laugh…and left most sated and relaxed.
We made two more retail stops: the first at the very charming Vassalisa Chocolates, which looked so prissy. Elegant and rose-colored, with a beautiful chandelier in the middle and two chic young women behind the counter. Allan bought a half-dozen assortment (two each of chocolate, cappuccino, and caramelized orange) and I’m happy to report that the quality lived up to the setting. The second stop was at a pharmacy (farmacia) for baby powder. Hardly prissy, but ever so useful in the heat.
As we headed toward Recoleta Cemetery (our last stop on the tour), we passed several of the city’s most prestigious hotels, each more glamorous than the next. Between these grand edifices were high-end shops (Ralph Lauren, one of Allan's favorites, has an entire 19th century home as his store) and more condo/apartments.
When we got to the park outside Recoleta Cemetery, we ran into Tom and Bruce, who were lunching with friends at a nearby outdoor restaurant. We got to say the goodbyes that we’d been unable to do the night before on the ship. They seemed quite happy to be on their home turf once again.
Just as the city’s elite had moved north and east, they had to have an elaborate and grand cemetery to bury their dead. And Recoleta Cemetery was just that: an elaborate and large “City of the Dead”. This time, instead of trying to outdo each other with grand houses, the rich outdid each other with grand above-ground mausoleums. I’d never seen anything quite like it: it went on for over four solid city blocks. Did I mention at this point in the day that the sun was blasting down, and poor Allan had to try to find shade in whatever way he could (I would not find my hat till we got to Rio - Allan).
Not all the mausoleums were old: one was a beautiful example from 1970, erected by the parents of an only daughter who was killed (along with her husband) on their honeymoon while skiing in Switzerland. This probably was one of the most moving things I’d seen all day.
The most popular mausoleum, however, belonged to the Duarte Family. This is where the body of Eva Duarte Péron is buried. And with that another story: it seems that not long after her death in the early 1950s, Evita’s body went missing for over 16 years. Ultimately in the early 1970s, it was discovered that her body was in an unmarked grave on the outskirts of Milan, Italy. The coffin was retrieved, and at one point was kept on the dining room table of the now exiled Juan Péron and his third wife Isabel in Barcelona. It was at Isabel’s request that Eva’s body be buried in the Duarte family crypt (Juan is buried in his hometown elsewhere in Argentina). There are always mounds of flowers at this site, and a crowd to go with them.
This marked the end of our wonderful guided tour. We paid Jessica the balance of our tour cost, and she put us in a cab for the cruise ship terminal. It would have been nice to see all of the wonderful art being sold in the park, but at this point we were just hot and tired.
I did manage to buy a maté cup before boarding the ship. After we got on board, we rested for a while. Before dinner, I headed to the deck on top of the bridge to watch our careful departure from the pier (it was very tight maneuvering). Dinner was just the two of us, and we were glad to have Laurentiu back, providing his excellent recommendations.
Comments
Another great post and this one, probably more than the others, REALLY made me feel like I was walking along the 7 hour tour with you both and Jessica.
Thanks for taking us along for the trip!
Hugs,
Tony