Buenas Tardes, Buenos Aires

When Argentina’s economy bottomed out in the late '90s, residents found that international travel became nearly impossible because of the poor exchange rate. But instead of sulking about and feeling sorry for themselves, they took this opportunity to rediscover themselves--to rediscover what it means to be an Argentinean, if you will. As a result, Buenos Aires—and the country as a whole—is thriving more than ever, at least on a cultural scale. Long thought of as simply a European outpost in South America, BA’s innate character is now staking its own unique claim. The arts, music, and entertainment scene is flourishing. Native cuisine and wine-producing regions like Mendoza and Patagonia are making noise on the international level. Tourism is booming. Indeed, there’s nowhere to go but up for amiable Argentina.

Here in the Beef Capital of the World, steaks slowly smoked to perfection are easy to come by. Yes, I’m a vegetarian, but my sources are reliable, and I could see the quickly cleaned (and practically licked) plates for myself. Meat or no meat, foodies will salivate at the endless culinary opportunities in Buenos Aires. We feasted on grilled provolone, bottles of palate-pleasing wine, slices of mozzarella pizza, creamy ice cream, four-cheese gnocchi, spicy Thai food… if you want it, BA has it. And do yourself a favor: save room for dessert, because the dulce de leche served here ranks with the best in the world.

If the La Boca Juniors are playing during your visit, get tickets—immediately. They’re not only one of the highest-ranked squads in the world, but the scene at La Bombanera Stadium is a truly eye-opening look at the fanaticism and passion portenos have for the sport. Sure, there are other teams in the city (River Plate is second in popularity), but La Boca is clearly the favored team in town. Scoop up your tickets in advance, and "splurge" on the platea seats at AR a pop. Not only is this section much safer in general, but the vantage points are outstanding. Fit in by rocking a garish blue-and-yellow La Boca jersey to the game, and screaming "Numero doce! Numero doce! Viva Maradona! VIVA MARDONA!"

As for the wine? One bottle of a ruby-red 1999 Malbec will have you hooked on the Argentinean vino for life.

Quick Tips:

Don’t come to Buenos Aires without at least a basic grip on the Spanish language. Very few people speak good English, and since you’re the guest, it’s up to you to either tote a handy phrase book (how embarassing!) or take a crash-course on the language. Five full years of Spanish in school helped, but I had never used it in everyday life up until this trip. I did well in some situations, bad in others (like trying to make a pizza delivery order over the phone at 1am). The important thing is that I tried. Show a little effort, and the genuinely sincere locals will do their best to meet you halfway.

Since you won’t be spending much time museum-hopping or on other, more traditional sightseeing outings, target a few different neighborhoods each day to explore on foot. Hit Montserrat for fantastic colonial mansions, La Boca (during the day, as it gets a bit seedy at night), San Telmo for antique shops and amazing restaurants, and Palermo for a quiet break away from the noisy hustle-and-bustle of downtown. Avoid Palermo at night, though, unless you’re into anything and everything hipster.

Best Way To Get Around:

We walked… and walked… and walked through the city’s marvelously laid-out neighborhoods, the only foolproof method to truly discover Buenos Aires’ charismatic personality. Our feet were swollen and our legs were weak by sundown, but that’s nothing a little rest and a glass of Tempranillo couldn’t cure. High-top basketball shoes (or "boots," as one guy called them) are recommended for navigating the frequently uneven cobbled streets, not to mention omnipresent sidewalk construction.

You won’t be able to walk everywhere, though, so unless you have an unfavorable exchange rate to the peso, grab a radio taxi and cab it—always. On our way to Bombanera Stadium to catch the Juniors in action, we literally sat in our cab for nearly an hour, stuck in traffic, and still only paid US or so. If you know the cross streets for where you’re going, you’re golden—the drivers always knew exactly where to go without fail. Oh, and stick with the licensed, black-and-yellow radio taxis.

There’s also an efficient subway system, but save for a day trip to the Tigre Delta, we didn’t ride the rails. We wanted to walk as much as possible, and combined with affordable cab fares, we just skipped it.

Ah, the Embajador Hotel—Buenos Aires’ Little Hotel That Could.

Currently undergoing massive renovations from top to bottom, the Embajador is a basic, clean, centrally located hotel perfectly suitable for resting your weary legs after a long day pounding the pavement in Buenos Aires (otherwise known as the fourth noisiest city in the world.)

We were greeted by a smiling staff that helped us with our bags, checked us in with no hassle, and offered maps of the area. After all the formalities, we were escorted to our room on the 10th floor. Now, the only thing we know to expect from hotels booked through go-today.com is that they’ll be better than we think, and that they’ll have some kind of absurd quirk(s) to amuse us during our stay. True to form, the Embajador came through on both counts.

There’s nothing especially thrilling about the rooms: ample closet space, a small table and chair set, a comfortable enough double bed, small TV with about 100 cable channels, and a full bathroom equipped with a hair dryer, toiletries, and even a bidet. I know… book your room immediately! There’s a bidet, for chrissakes!

The best part of our little air-conditioned oasis was the scenery: from here, we had a bird’s eye view of Avenida de Julio, the widest avenue in the world (indeed, it generally takes two stoplights to walk across it). Every night, as the setting sun cast a calming light through the window shades, we’d rest up with a bottle or two of Argentinean Malbec in front of our open glass doors. These wine-tasting sessions became an anticipated daily ritual during the trip.

As for the Embajador’s endearing quirks: during our stay in November 2005, the hotel was getting more facelifts and surgical work done than Nicole Kidman. Fine. But then we received a politely written letter under our door telling us that “in our continuing desire to improve the comfort of the hotel,” there would be no electricity available the next day from 11am – 5pm. The whole hotel, no electricity. Brilliant! We thought maintenance would take advantage of the blackout to change the flickering bulbs in the 10th floor hallway, but, well, I guess they weren’t ready for that yet. Honestly though, no big deal. It was more amusing—at least to us—than anything else.

Complimentary breakfast is served daily in the second floor dining room from 7–11am and includes biscotti, ham and cheese, cold cuts, bread, cereal, yogurt, coffee, orange juice, and croissants. The business center was still being worked on--I’m sure it’ll be the talk of the town when finished.

We loved the Embajador: great location, excellent service, and clean rooms. For more information, misleading photos of the hotel, and room rates, check out the Embajador Hotel website.

The ambience is just as important as the cuisine at Empire Thai, quite possibly the swankiest—and spiciest—Thai restaurant in Buenos Aires. Located in sleepy Retiro down a quiet street lined with elegant colonial mansions, Empire stands out with its sleek, big city-inspired décor clashing with more traditional Argentinean restos in the area. Still, after getting buzzed in through the locked front door and sat at a small, black two-top, the friendly porteno hospitality was as evident here as anywhere else in the city.

Shards of colored glass are meticulously worked into large mosaics on the wall, including a towering mural of elephants adorned with decorative headdresses. Illuminated, teardrop-shaped paper balls drop from the high ceiling, casting a dim light on the indigo-blue walls that surround the main dining room and small upstairs seating area.

Leather placemats emblazoned with the Empire Thai logo, as well as a sewn-in holder for chopsticks, give a new meaning to the phrase “wow, what a fancy placemat!” A soothing mix of downtempo world beats pleasantly seeps through the airy room at just the right level. If you didn’t know better, you’d think you were at a late-night New York City hotspot.

We snacked on complimentary Thai crackers served with sweet sauce as we surveyed the menu and inhaled pleasant aromas wafting up from the downstairs kitchen. After some deliberation, we ordered crispy vegetables with a smoky, soy-based sauce for our appetizer to compliment a bottle of moderately priced Malbec. I was pleased that though it was not listed on the menu, the kitchen did indeed stock a fresh supply of tofu, which I ordered with the red curry and vegetables.

Our appetizer was nearly the size of an entrée, with a mound of carrots, zucchini, broccoli, cauliflower, and mushrooms all covered in a crispy batter. Soon after our red curries arrived with small bowls of white rice, I nearly began sweating like Billy Blanks halfway through an advanced Taebo workout. Don’t get me wrong, I like my Thai food spicy, but this ambitious mix of herbs and spices would be the odds-on favorite in the “World’s Hottest Curry” competition. Seriously, our tongues were on fire, but we both pressed on and finished off the curry. Spicy, yes, but damn tasty too.

Hallelujah! Modest, good-natured Empire Thai proves it really is possible to have a hip, upscale attitude without a trace of pretense.

Afternoons at Pizzeria Guerin operate like a well-oiled assembly line. Fresh, piping hot pies dripping with gooey mozzarella cheese are churned out one after the other. A steady line of hungry regulars file in, quickly and quietly devouring a slice or two of said pizza, often with faina and a small glass of muscava to boot. Empty plates are stacked. Repeat.

Looking in from busy Avenida Corrientes, you wouldn’t think much of one of Buenos Aires’ most popular pizzerias. Long, plain counters take up most of the front room, with minimal décor livening up the small coffee bar and mini-kitchen to the counters’ left and right. A sharply dressed staffer fries up corn, beef, and chicken empanadas, while his bowtied coworkers take turns manning an old cash register and serving up slices with a friendly, business-like demeanor. Indeed, Guerin’s semi-formal presentation of what essentially mounts to fast food is equally refreshing, surprising, and ultimately comforting (not to mention thoroughly addicting.)

We found ourselves ducking into Pizzeria Guerin just about every other afternoon, lured not just by its unflappable character and show-stopping pizzas but by the prices, too: a slice of plain mozzarella only sets you back AR$1.50, while a slab of authentic faina (a doughy, chickpea-based concoction eaten with a slice) runs a mere AR$1. Of course, there are a few other pizzas available, including one laced with green veggies and gobs of soft ricotta, but the plain cheese slices are like nothing you’ll eat back home. The mozzarella cheese sags off the saucy dough under its own delicious weight, as if the cook had carefully measured the right amount of cheese to produce exact melting results. But, as I said, no sooner do these pizzas come out of the oven than they’ve disappeared: proof-positive that Guerin’s smiling chefs know what they’re doing.

A staggering amount of calorie-laden desserts await those with bestial hunger, including crème-filled crepes, delicately frosted cakes, and other sweet treats. And, of course, you’ll need something to wash it all down with: soda, wine, beer, and water are available.

In a city known for world-class gastronomic opportunities, we felt a little guilty returning to Pizzeria Guerin so often. Surely the pizza wasn’t so good that it was worth ignoring a wealth of other restaurants that piqued our interest, right? Put it this way: on our last afternoon in Buenos Aires, after debating where to have our last lunch, we happily ended up filing in line, devouring two slices of plain mozzarella at the front counter, and stacking our empty plates when we were through.

With the hot South American sun beating down as we tramped around the Sunday afternoon markets in San Telmo, our stomachs grumbled almost on cue after we considered a return visit to Manolo for lunch. This old-school restaurant on the corner of Bolivar and Brazil was the site for one of our first (outstanding) meals in Buenos Aires. So, since we were in neighborhood anyway, it seemed almost blasphemous not to make one last pilgrimage to this popular locals hangout.

We both nearly blushed as Manolo himself greeted and ushered us to a small table near the front door. If it’s a truly authentic dining experience you’re after, this is the place to be. Large fans hang from the ceilings, helping keep the large, dining hall-style space cool and comfortable despite near 90-degree temperatures outside. Futbol newspaper clippings and prints are interspersed on the walls with vintage photographs of the restaurant and its watchful owner, Manolo, as well as other interesting odds and ends. Of course, the line of futbol jerseys that nearly wraps around the whole restaurant is the focal point, providing a welcome splash of color, as well as an interesting look at the evolution of the “jersey look.”

During both of our visits to Manolo, most of the long tables were occupied with a mixed crowd of families, groups of friends, and single men reading the paper and downing a liter of Quilmes. The attentive staff, as seems to be custom in the old-world, traditional restaurants of Buenos Aires, is dressed in black-and-white dress pants, button-up shirts, and bowties. Our waiter quickly arrived at our table with a smile and basket of freshly baked chunks of white bread. As we ripped into the bread and drank liters of water sin gas, we tried to pick just one dish from Manolo’s extensive menu that includes pastas, salads, empanadas, and, of course, steaks. Trixie scored prime-cut beef on both of our visits, while I ordered the gorgonzola gnocchi in cream sauce the first time around, then the four-cheese gnocchi the second. I know—both equally healthy dishes.

Listen, the food is just fantastic and incredibly affordable to boot. The service is unbeatable. And perhaps just as important, the atmosphere is truly authentic; between our two visits, we only spotted one other table of tourists. One other thing: the flan con dulce de leche y crema is heavenly--one of the best desserts we ate in Buenos Aires. Indeed, our original plan of sharing it turned into a strategic battle of “two bites for me, one for you.”

"Streets on fire, the mob goes wild, wild, wild. Streets on fire, the mob goes wild!" – Clutch, "The Mob Goes Wild"

The rhythmic, singsong chants cascading through La Bombonera Stadium as the La Boca Juniors fought to a 2-2 draw with Universidad Catolica rang like background noise to a revolution. The beating of drums, the waving of flags, the stomping of feet… in this, the first leg of a much-anticipated South American Cup match, the hometown fans came out by the tens of thousands in a feverish wave of blue-and-yellow jerseys. Yes, Argentineans are passionate about their fútbol—they’re absolutely mental for their beloved Juniors.

We picked up our AR$80 tickets in the platea section early in the afternoon, then strolled through the working-class La Boca neighborhood and quickly realized what an event Juniors’ home games are. Merchants hawking jerseys, pennants, and t-shirts are more common than street cats. Area locals sipped on liters of Quilmes or Brahma at colorful sidewalk cafés, passing the time until kick-off with cold beers and lively discussions about the prospects for a win.

After a lengthy cab ride back to the stadium, we stepped out of the car and into mass hysteria. "Tailgating" isn’t an apt description—perhaps "riot practice" is. Security is very tight around the stadium, and you’ll only be allowed to enter at your seat’s assigned gate. Keep in mind that alcohol is not served inside (for good reason), so if you want a drink before the game, hit one of the nearby local bars.

We were admittedly a bit intimidated by the ravenous scene outside, but were at ease once shown to our amazing seats located about 10 rows up at midfield. Here, the hoopla we heard from outside became truly engulfing. The chants, the songs, the drums, the cheers, the brilliant lights… in a word, magical. Even Diego Maradona, widely considered the best striker to ever to step onto the field, was widely celebrated during the match despite retiring nearly 10 years ago.

With the field covered in toilet-paper rolls and tattered pieces of paper, the teams battled back and forth during the first half, but the stand-off ended early in the second stanza:

"La Boca throws it across, the ball is free… GOOOOAAAAALLL!!! GOOOOOAAAALLLL!!!"

Soon after, the Chilean Universidad Catolica squad bravely rallied back, scoring two successive goals to take the lead. Undeterred, La Boca found the back of the net with time quickly ticking away, and secured the tie. A few days later, from the comfort of my couch in Brooklyn, I watched as La Boca pulled out a dramatic 1-0 victory in the second and final leg of the match. The mob goes wild, wild, wild.

“Come back on Tuesday for the tango,” Club del Vino’s smiling security guard urged as he shook our hands and bid us adieu. “This is the real tango, not tango for tourists.” Alas, with our departure looming the next day, a return to Buenos Aires’ classiest venue for authentic music and good wine was not in the cards this time.

Club del Vino, located on a quiet, leafy street in Palermo, is a traditionally styled wine bar/restaurant/performance venue/museum that captivated us from the moment we stepped inside. Bottles of vintage wine sit on shelves that surround a small café near the entrance, with colorful stained-glass murals high atop the ceiling casting pleasing light into the front area. Wine-tasting sessions are led in a separate room that sits opposite a gorgeous open-air courtyard. Here, with a Bacchus fountain, hanging vegetation, and brick floors surrounding a few small, two-person tables, the stage is set for a romantic evening under the stars with a bottle or two of fermented grapes.

After peeping into the small wine museum, we made our reservations for a Sunday evening performance of “flamenco fusion” courtesy of Hector Romero’s Ensamble. Book your spot in advance because you’ll be able to reserve your table of choice—I recommend #24, which affords a slightly elevated, front-and-center view of the performance stage. Tango, flamenco, salsa, and jazz performances are held throughout the week; your best bet is to hightail it up here, check out the schedule, and pick a few performances. Admission price ranges from AR$10 - $20 per person.

The live venue brings to mind an old-time jazz club, with vintage prints, posters, and photos strategically hung on the walls and small, circular tables crammed into the stage-level seating area. Club del Vino’s menu includes empanadas, cheese platters for two, various desserts, and, of course, a solid wine selection. We were surprised at the reasonable prices for wine; at AR$38, a bottle of 2002 Malbec Cabernet was the most expensive on the menu. Go ahead and “splurge” on this one if it’s in stock—it was the smoothest bottle of red we drank during the whole trip.

We picked a winner that night. With a seven-piece band at his command, Hector Romero led the troupe through a moving exploration of native ballads and dance. The unequivocal highlight came when a young guy no more than 12 or 13 years old thrilled the audience with a commanding flamenco tapdance routine. Shouts of “Es el nino! Es el nino!” echoed through the venue. His older brother, who couldn’t be more than 20 years old himself, followed with a similar routine shortly after. The big brother/little brother connection brought a smile to everyone’s faces, including the performers onstage.

When the security guard of all people stopped us on our way out to shake our hands and thank us for coming, we were again reminded how great Buenos Aires is. For more information about the club, visit their website.

The hottest ticket in town isn’t for front-row seats at a La Boca Juniors match. It’s not for an opera at Teatro Colon, either. No, here in Buenos Aires, the truly wealthy residents have their sights set on a permanent plot at Cementerio de la Recoleta, a sprawling, eerie resting place for many of Argentina’s most revered (and sometimes controversial) figures.

After wandering through Recoleta’s maze of above-ground tombs for an hour, I left convinced that there’d be nothing creepier than spending a night in the cemetery, alone, with nothing but a gaggle of resident cats stalking the grounds to keep you company. Sounds like a perfectly gory Tales from the Crypt episode to me.

The huge cemetery sits smack-dab in the middle of Recoleta, close to a tasteless strip of touristy restaurants and bars that include the Sports World Café (Hey honey! Let’s check out some dead bodies, then catch a fútbol match on the tube!) Admission to the cemetery is free, and guided tours are available. Just inside the Greek-columned entrance, there’s also a nifty map that shows where graves of interest are located: an invaluable tool, considering just how many plots there are here. Of course, if you’re looking for Eva Peron’s tomb, just follow the tourists.

What makes the cemetery more unsettling than others are the tombs themselves. As is common throughout South America, the caskets lie above ground in plain view of the public, meaning you can literally peer into 80% of the tombs and see inside for yourself. In fact, many of the tombs’ glass windows and chain locks have been broken and gone into disrepair over the years (weather, grave robbery?), so you can practically reach out and touch the specter of death. That’s right—bring the kids! It’s fun for the whole family!

Haunted graveyard thoughts aside, Cementerio de la Recoleta is a mesmerizing “attraction” that shouldn’t be missed. Many of the tombs have incredibly intricate detailing, and the foreboding sense of death is exasperated by the newly finished, empty plots patiently awaiting their future residents. Vacation fun indeed! The roster of deceased at Recoleta includes Peron, heavyweight boxer Luis Ferpo, writer/politician Juan Bautista Alberdi, Nobel Peace Prize winner Carlos Saavedra Lamas, and former president Carlos Pellegrini.

Final resting places don’t get any more prestigious in Buenos Aires than those at grim, captivating Cementerio de la Recoleta.