Gut instincts in Buenos Aires

Always trust your instincts.   Mine told me we should stay in the fresh air of Bariloche for two more days.  The sun was shining, the lakes were inviting, and everyone seemed content.  Despite our best efforts, however, altering our plans proved to be too complicated, so we reluctantly agreed to depart for Buenos Aires according to our itinerary.   I believe that it was in this moment that some greater force in the universe decided to teach us a lesson in the importance of following one’s instincts.

Instead of following our guts, we received a punch, or a few, to our guts.  

For those of you who’ve tracked us on our adventure, you’ll remember that Sean and I both lost our ATM cards early in the trip.   While there’s certainly no need to rehash our foibles,  I’ll simply say that receiving a replacement card in Ecuador after a few weeks with nothing gave us great piece of mind. 

It was immediately following our decision to not extend our stay in Bariloche that an ATM ate our only VISA card.  Gone. No reason. No button to return.  Adios muchachos.

We had exactly 5 Argentinian pesos in our pocket.  It’s for the best that I didn’t capture this moment on film.

Apparently, as we learned from sympathetic passers by, this is not an uncommon occurrence in Argentinan banks.  The time was 1:05pm on a Friday.  All banks close at 1pm on Fridays in Argentina and nothing, I mean nada, can be done until Monday.  We were departing for Buenos Aires on Sunday.  Coincidence?  I think not.

My love for Patagonia was now blemished by my disdain for Banco Patagonia.  

After a few hours while snacking on a baguette, we eventually plugged the hole of any financial worries thanks to American Express.   Just saying, there is a reason they say don’t leave home without it.  We reluctantly departed for Buenos Aires the next day, humbled at the reality that curveballs like this can happen at any time.   

Bienvenidos a Buenos Aires, the European capital of South America.   Grand, sophisticated, and outright beautiful, it’s a necessary destination in any South American itinerary.   

We barely scraped the surface of BA, so we’re already planning our return (sans kids) to experience a deeper side of it.  Vegans beware…this is a meat-eaters paradise, so set your expectations correctly.   Everyone, and I mean everyone, eats meat.    For our first night, we set our sights on a cozy neighborhood restaurant and indulged in all things carnivorous.

That didn’t work out so well for me.  Remember Sean’s mal-carne  from Cartagena?   It was my turn now.   During our city tour the next day, I felt so awful that I had to ask our driver to pull over on, where else, the widest avenue in Latin America el 9 de Julio.   If you’re going to have an involuntary personal protein spill, why not do it in grand fashion?

The boys swiftly deposited me at the hotel where I could assume the fetal position for the next 8 hours while they explored the nearby Parque de Palermo.   Sean was large and in charge, so he embraced the afternoon and was all in for ice creams and fun.

Boat rides seem like a fun idea, until you realize that a small opening in the bottom of the boat can significantly affect the the day’s outcome, especially when you feel something slip out of your pocket, hear a kerplunk and realize it’s your beloved iphone.  Yup, gone.  It may or may not have been the latest generation, that’s irrelevant at this point, but it was our best camera nonetheless.  Adios muchachos 2.0.

In Sean’s defense, he waited to tell me about this until I could hold down some saltines, at which point we had no choice but to laugh about the state of our union and to proceed onwards.

Hoping that the superstition of bad things happen in threes was actually true, we clung onto the fact that our luck was about to turn.   As such, we embraced the “when in Buenos Aires” mentality and booked tickets to a tango show the following night.    It was a tough sell with the boys, but glitter and swift moving legs quickly captured their attention, making the night a success.

I love to dance, but there is no way I could ever be in the same league as this group.   They seem to know each other’s moves as if they were one.   If I even dared to try, I’d for sure kick my heel somewhere it isn’t supposed to go.

The intimacy in the partnership of the tango dancers was nothing compared to what we’d see the following day during our countryside visit to Estancia La Porteña, home of a real life horse whisperer.     We’d heard about this through a few local contacts, so we decided to check it out for ourselves.     At the very least, enjoying a day in a traditional estancia with a delicious asado sounded like a better alternative to navigating the sights of a city.  

Outdoors and sunshine never fails to impress this crew.  Roaming animals and decidedly the coolest ever climbing tree made for happy kids.

My stomach was finally ready to enjoy food again,  and what better way than with a traditional asado, of grilled meats and various traditional dishes.  We had no idea that the gauchos, or Argentinian cowboys who work on the estancia, would entertain us with traditional songs during our meal, but we’ve learned on this journey to always expect the unexpected, so we sat back and enjoyed the music. 

What came next was something that has since catapulted to the top of our family’s list on this trip.  Meet…the horse whisperer.   Some might call it theatrical, some would vow it’s spiritual.  Me, I’m not sure how to categorize it even weeks later.  Either way, it’s a moment worth experiencing no matter what. 

 

We were asked to remain silent during the horse whisperer’s “performance” but it was at this point that my eyes shifted to meet those of Sean and the boys and I knew I was toast.  I felt my chest start to shake with laughter, the kind that you can’t control no matter what.  I passed my camera to someone,  lowered my hat to shield my tearing eyes, and maintained my composure as best I could for the next 5 minutes.    

Let’s be honest, could you keep a straight face?

Make no mistake, the skill and focus of the horse whisperer is remarkable and there is no doubt that his talents merit great respect.  We were all in awe, as was everyone who watched the performance.  That said, after a few tough days we were grateful for a positive family moment where someone else entertained us with a hoof to the gut.