Palermo

After coming up from the Subte into Plaza Italia, I walked down Calle Jorge Luis Borges into the heart of Palermo Viejo. The street was lined with modest highrise apartment blocks that rose above small shops and restaurants on the ground floor. I found a small café, a nice place to stop in for helado, ice cream, as the afternoon began to warm up. I then continued to wander aimlessly around the streets of Palermo, taking in the barrio at a slow and easy pace.

I made my way back to Plaza Italia and into the sublime Jardín Botánico Carlos Thays. This beautiful botanical garden was the perfect place to relax in the late afternoon, soothed by the fountains, shaded by the towering trees, and fascinated by the plants and flowers from around the world.

The one disappointment was that the cats are mostly gone. This park has been a haven for cats over the past few years; not feral cats, but housecats that have been abandoned by their owners. It's hard to understand why people would do such a thing, but the cats ended up finding a refuge in the tranquil and verdant confines of this garden. Over time, a volunteer group known as the Asociación Civil Gatos Botánico has come to take care of the cats, feeding them and working to get them spayed and neutered. The project has been a success and now the cat population is considerably smaller than it once was.

I spent most of the afternoon in the Jardín Botánico, sitting in quiet places and reading my book. Then I took the Subte back to Plaza de Mayo and had a leisurely walk to San Telmo. Along the way, I found a little market that had homemade empanadas, baked meat pies with chicken, cheese, and beef. I bought a few of them and took them back to the apartment for an easy dinner at home.

I sat out on the balcony and watched the theater of San Telmo in the streets below. I ate empanadas and drank a little wine, all the while looking out over the city scene. And soon the city began to erupt. First there were fireworks over the barrio of La Boca, just to the south of San Telmo. Boca is one of the major teams of Argentine futbol (soccer) and has a huge and loyal fan base in the poor, working class neighborhood of La Boca. My guess was that they must have just won a game.

Then the helicopters started to appear, circling around the sky above me. Slowly and steadily I began to hear a distant roar coming from the Paseo de Colón, half a block below my apartment. This grand thoroughfare goes from Boca into the city center and is a major transit route across the city. The noise got louder and I could tell it was getting closer.

Boca fans celebrate their victory in the middle of the Paseo de Colón

I leaned over my balcony and started to see the crowds marching along the Paseo de Colón toward the city center. The chanting grew louder, the drums beat out a rhythm of humanity as the crowds coalesced into a single expression of boisterous exuberance. Fireworks shot out like bombs across the city. The incessant honking of car horns accompanied the percussion of drums, fireworks, and human heartbeats.

I couldn't stand being a distant spectator anymore. I put my shoes on and walked down to the Paseo de Colón, where a massive traffic jam played out into a celebration of the victory of Boca. A couple of buses were stopped at the intersection of Humberto Primo and Paseo de Colón, with young men hanging out the windows, waving flags and shouting the chants of victory. Just another night in Buenos Aires.

I knew I had to make a trip to Boca, the barrio where all this unbridled energy was coming from, a neighborhood that represents the true exhilaration of Buenos Aires.

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