The Palacio Barolo
From Retiro Station, I hopped on the Subte for a ride across the city. I took the C line to Plaza Lavalle and climbed the staircase back up to the surface (very few of the Subte stations have escalators that work). I came out in a part of the city that was new to me, my sense of direction was distorted, and a geographical disorientation set in as I looked around at the towering city that surrounded me. I knew it was getting late in the afternoon though, so I followed the sun, knowing that it would guide me to the west.
Thus I found my way to the Teatro Colón, an impressive neoclassical edifice that is one of the great cultural icons of the city. It sits along the monumental Avenida 9 de Julio, the widest boulevard in the world, which gets its name from the date of Argentina's Independence Day in 1816. I walked down the boulevard for a few blocks, taking in the grandiose buildings and flashing neon. Nigerian immigrants sold sunglasses on the sidewalk, next to ornate news kiosks with newspapers and magazines from around the world.
I turned right on the Avenida de Mayo and walked to the Palacio del Congreso Nacional Argentino, the seat of the legislative branch of Argentine government. This ornate neoclassical palace, topped by a bronze-plated dome, sits in front of a long manicured garden at the western end of Avenida de Mayo. This grand boulevard forms an axis across central Buenos Aires, with the Casa Rosada at the eastern end. In front of the Congress is a casting of Auguste Rodin's The Thinker, forming a visually stunning scene surrounded by the lush gardens.
At 4:00 I had a reservation for a guided tour of the Palacio Barolo, a unique architectural creation that was once the tallest building in South America. Designed by Italian architect Mario Palanti, the Palacio Barolo is an homage to the poet Dante Alighieri and his Divine Comedy. The building has 22 floors that correspond to the 22 verses of the Divine Comedy, and is rich with details that focus on numerological significance.
The Palacio Barolo is 100 meters high, corresponding with the 100 songs of the Divine Comedy. It is divided into three sections that represent Heaven, Purgatory, and Hell. Mathematics plays a major role in the design, with the 22 floors of the building being reached by a series of seven elevators. 22 divided by 7 is 3.14, or Π.
The tour started in the lobby of the building on the ground floor, or Hell. Demonic gargoyles loom over the lobby, which features a fiery fountain in the center. We took the rickety old elevator to the seventh floor, up into Purgatory, where we began to see the many Art Nouveau details that reveal the architectural harmony of the building with Dante's vision.
From the Purgatory of the seventh floor, we took the elevator up to the 14th floor. That is as high as the elevators go. From there, we ascended a narrow winding staircase up into Heaven on the 20th floor. We passed by a number of offices as we made the ascent, but then the top floors get smaller and smaller. Arriving at the 20th floor, we came out onto a circular observation deck, with small alcove balconies that opened up to spectacular views of the city below us. We opened up each of the windows and took turns stepping out onto the balconies, looking out over Buenos Aires in all directions.
Then we ascended an even narrower staircase that took us up to the 22nd floor, where a lighthouse filled the small room. Our guide turned on the rotating platform and told us more of the story of this historic building. We were situated very close to the geographic center of Buenos Aires, so we were able to take in all the glory of this vast city. When the lighthouse is turned on at night, the beam can be seen in Montevideo, 200 kilometers across the Rio de la Plata in Uruguay.
We slowly descended the winding staircases, going from Heaven back down to the Purgatory of the 14th floor. Then we took the elevator back down into hell, the lobby on the ground floor. It was a very surreal hour, traversing the levels of Dante's Divine Comedy.
I took the Subte back to San Telmo, riding the A line from Sáenz Peña to Avenida de Mayo, then the C line down to San Juan station. From there, I walked through the late afternoon streets of San Telmo, looking for a nice place to have dinner. It is common practice in Argentina to eat dinner around 8:00 pm or later, so it can be difficult to find a restaurant open at 6:00 pm. I walked along Calle Chile and found a sidewalk café called Aquí Me Quedo (I'm Staying Here) The place was bustling, probably because most of its customers were Brazilian and European tourists.
I sat down and ordered dinner, a Lomo "Aquí Me Quedo," which consisted of a steak filet, thinly sliced and wrapped around a purée of vegetables, with a rich, creamy sauce. It was accompanied by a stack of thick steak fries and roasted red peppers. At the end of a long day, it felt good to sit out on the sidewalk, enjoying a great meal and drinking a big pitcher of Quilmes beer.
The café was playing a medley of American and British rock and roll, with an occasional Spanish-language song thrown in. One song in particular brought me into a sweet melancholy; the waitress told me it was Lamento Boliviano, by the Enanitos Verdes. I sat there on the sidewalk, drifting into a sweet exhausted reverie. It was then that I began to plan for the next day, a trip beyond Buenos Aires.
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