Carbing Up for the Big Day

Because Argentina is a bit backward compared with the rest of the world, they don't have a very good system for picking up marathon race packs. Instead of sending out t-shirts and race numbers to people's homes, they make us go to an exhibition centre between certain hours of the day. Obviously I couldn't go yesterday because I was at work, so I decide to run from the Bosques de Palermo and get to know the city a little on my way. A short jog the day before the marathon can't hurt too much - providing I don't get too lost.

I am a little concerned they won't let me pick up my race pack because I need ID to do so, and I've already handed my passport to the visa company so they can crack on with sorting out my papers. If they turn me away, this will all have been one long, expensive, rushed journey to come to Buenos Aires in time for the marathon! 

Thankfully, I get to the exhibition centre and they don't even check my photocopied ID. There are dozens of stalls selling running-related paraphernalia, and there are tons of would-be marathon runners from all over the world. I hear Brazilians, Chileans, Venezuelans... people from pretty much everywhere in Latin America, but I don't hear any fellow Brits. I pick up a couple of energy gel sachets for tomorrow and I take up the free offer to get my name printed on the back of my bright yellow Adidas running vest.

All set.

I find my way back to my flat, shower and head to nearby restaurant Trastevere, on the corner of Fitzroy and Costa Rica, one block from my place. I need to do some serious carbing up, so I order a simple tomatoey pasta dish. The restaurant is very cool and hip, with the waiters and waitresses sporting a very Argentine grungey look, but I feel out of place here sitting by myself. I lap up my pasta and head for a wander around the neighbourhood.

Cool mural inside Trastevere

After an afternoon of shopping and catching up on a few emails, I retire back to my flat and order a pizza - a few more carbs before the big day can't hurt. The pizza, from Pizza y Espuma on the corner of El Salvador with Fitzroy, is just OK. But I can settle for that, as long as I get my carbs.