24 hours in buenos aires: part 1

Oh dear. I have achieved nothing today, apart from feeling like the walking dead (urrrrrggh), but then I guess that is the price I pay for having a veeery packed day yesterday. My brain still feels it's trying to hammer its way out of my skull but I'll see how much I can piece together...

Erica
The day began at 8am. Uncharacteristically for me, I awoke ahead of my alarm, and before 12pm. Miracles do happen! Downstairs at breakfast I made friends at the coffee machine with a crazy Australian lady called Erica. She is the kind of person who uses words like 'soul', 'healing' and 'energy' in general conversation. She's also incredibly open, and boy did she have a story to tell.

She has been in South America travelling by herself for the last 8 weeks and this is now the last few days of her trip. It's also the first time she's ever travelled overseas. She told me that she had a lot of shit going down back at home, which helped prompt her to make such a massive, spontaneous decision to quit her job, pack her bags and get out the country; the death of her father, her now ex-fiancé's descent into depression and alcoholism, her best friend suffering a brain aneurysm and being taken to hospital... In the end, she said that she just fell apart, and a little voice in her head told her to go to South America. So she did.

That's definitely one of the best things about travelling; the way in which other people, the ones who make up the giant mass of people who you don't know, suddenly start to become more than just unknown, unimportant faces. In just 5 minutes you can find out so much about someone, and it just makes you realise that everyone really does have a story.

After breakfast, she had some time to kill before she had to catch her ferry to Uruguay, so she suggested we head out for a walk. So we did!

Recoleta and Barrio Norte
Buenos Aires is basically split up into neighbourhoods, called barrios. It's a bit like how Paris is split up into different arrondissements. Every barrio has its own distinct flavour and focus. I'd set out towards Recoleta because I really wanted to see the cemetery there, which is where Eva Peron is buried.

The cemetery is, quite simply, awesome. It reminded me of a mini Pompeii. Hidden inside the walls is a labyrinth of narrow alleyways, containing rows upon rows of mausoleums dedicated to many wealthy, important figures in Argentine history. Many of the mausoleums are in a state of disrepair and decay, and show visible signs of their age. Fine cobwebs grace rusty locks and roses hewn in stone, the modern black sheen of marble rubs up against fiery orange brickwork, classical statues raise their heads to the sky, and small, bright flowers burst forth from cracks in the walls.

Needless to say, me and my camera had a field day, particularly given my slight obsession with rust.

I also took the obligatory photo of Eva Peron's family grave, which is marked 'Duarte', and sang the end of 'Don't Cry For Me Argentina' to myself as I wandered round. Salve regina, mater misericordiae...

Taxi Driver
Then I received a great compliment from a friendly taxi driver, who thought I was from Venezuela and was surprised to find out I was not in fact South American. Apparently all the Miss World's come from Venezuela. Get in!

Oh dear, there are people waiting to use the internet so the rest may have to wait until later. I also need to eat something and drink wayyy more water. Urgh.

Still to come: the best bookshop in the world, the best steak I've ever had, bad dancing at a milonga, drunken rave and man onslaught at Asia de Cuba.