A Day in BA

Saturday begins with brunch at Oui Oui, a cute little French-ish cafe close to my flat on Nicaragua. There are tons of brunch places and cute cafes along the same street but Food Factory, directly opposite, doesn't have a chance against Oui Oui, where it's hard to even get a table. 

Brunch at Oui Oui

We flukily manage to get a table on the street and I tuck into omelette and salad while the Irishman feasts on scrambled egg, smoked salmon and grilled asparagus. We finish up with freshly squeezed juice and a pot of tea.

Scrambled egg, smoked salmon and asparagus

The sun is out and the Irishman and I decide to head to the Bosques de Palermo for a walk around the lake. The place is packed on weekends with roller-bladers, runners, dog-walkers and sunbathers alike, and it's a real pleasure to just go for a stroll. I normally come running here so I don't have time to appreciate the views. We walk through the Rosedal, a beautiful rose-garden in a park next to the lake, and afterwards we hire a pedalo.

Pedalo in the park, Bosques de Palermo

After the pedalo session, we decide to hire some bikes and we ask a few different people where we can do this. A few people tell us different things and we go on a wild goose chase for an hour or so. We struggle to find any bike hire places so we go to the only one I know, which is back near my flat, on Avenida Bullrich. 

I have walked past the bike hire place many times and I've heard the bikes are free, so we walk into the little hut to ask about the Mejor en Bici (Better by Bike) scheme. After about ten minutes of negotiating with a fairly rude bike-hire guy, we are told we simply cannot hire bikes because we don't have the required documentation. A passport is not enough - we need some kind of proof of address for each of us and, as I don't have my DNI ID document yet, I class as a tourist and not a resident. We can't believe it's so difficult for a tourist to hire a bike here and it seems rather unfair. Finally we walk out but the Irishman cracks a smile from the moody bike-hire guy after he spots he's wearing an Irish rugby t-shirt, thus they have something in common.

After a little casual Googling, we find a place called Bicicleta Naranja on Nicaragua street in Palermo. We go there expecting to be turned away again and it's getting late in the afternoon so we know we won't have much time to hire the bikes. Once we get there, however, the bike-hire people turn out to be as friendly and relaxed as anything and they say we can hire bikes in return for me leaving my driver's license as a deposit. They don't take any money upfront and they quickly and efficiently issue us with helmets and bright orange bikes before sending us on our merry way, telling us to be back for 7pm.

Bicicleta Naranja bicycle hire, Buenos Aires

Cycling in Buenos Aires is brilliant fun. There are cycle lanes that go all the way from the centre and back to some of the neighbourhoods like Palermo and it feels truly safe as the cycle lanes are protected by huge bollards so the cars can't even cross into them. We cycle to Palermo Soho and stop for coffee and ice cream on Honduras and then cycle all the way to the centre and back. The traffic is heavy in places and I'd be scared doing this on my own, but fortunately the Irishman is a little more confident and gets us back to Nicaragua in one piece.

The bike shop is just closing up and they take our bikes back in exchange for our money - it's cheap as chips. Who needs free government bikes anyway?!

The McDonalds 5k Run

I head down to the Bosques at 9am for the McDonalds 5k run. The atmosphere is fantastic - a sea of pink-clad women raring to go, with a backdrop of perfect blue sky and hot morning sunshine. 

The run is great fun and I complete it in 25 minutes. It would've been much more fun if I'd had a friend, but hey ho, I enjoy the atmosphere and relax with a few stretches in the park afterwards.

After the run. Note, none of these lovely pink ladies is me.

Snapped on the grass - my medal

Coca Cola truck in the park

The lake - an urban paradise

After the run, I meet my neighbour and her English friend for lunch at an organic café called Artemisia near our place on Gorriti with Cabrera. We go for a salmon wok and share this dessert:

Dessert at Artemisia

As the sun goes down, we walk my neighbour's dog around Dorrego and I snap a load more graffiti:

Scary

Freaky...

Cool

My First Weekend Shift

Today is my first weekend shift at work - something I'm entirely used to, as a journalist, so I head towards Palermo station at 7am for a nice early start. The streets are deserted and the only people I see are drunken revelers heading back from their Saturday night out. After the ten-minute walk, I arrive at the subte station to find the entrance firmly gated shut. As I start to walk down the steps to see if there's a sign, I hear a man's voice from a few metres away.

"It opens at 8am," he says, looking at me as if I am an absolute lunatic for trying to get the tube to work at such a ridiculous hour on a Sunday morning. 

Jeez. This would never happen in London. I'm so surprised they don't open the underground network until 8am but I guess the guy is right, I'm the crazy one. Nobody goes to work at 7am on a Sunday morning - just me. Everyone else in the city is busy sleeping. 

I walk across the huge main road and check out the signs at the bus stop, but it's like trying to read Braille. I have no idea where all those stops are, and the map might as well be in Japanese. In any case, it doesn't look like any of the buses go from here to the Microcentro. (And who would want to go to the business centre on a Sunday morning anyway?!)

I begin to see people in matching "10k" t-shirts walking in the direction of the Bosques and I realise there's a coordinated race on this morning. Ah, that's the kind of thing I should be doing, instead of going to work! 

I decide to get a taxi, and end up back on the other side of the road near the man who thinks I'm crazy. He shakes his head in bemusement at me again as I finally manage to flag down a taxi. I begrudgingly pay the 8 pounds or so it costs to get to the centre.

On arrival at work, I find the main entrance thoroughly bolted with massive chains around the handles on the big glass double doors. What the...?  

I panic - was I suppose to let the security guards know I'm working today? Who do I call to let me in? I don't think I have a number... 

Eventually I notice there's a buzzer with a grate to the right of the door so I buzz the reception. A very sleepy-looking security guard who I've never seen before eventually ambles slowly to the glass doors and, after a thorough questioning, he lets me in. I explain that I work upstairs and he phones up to my office security guard before giving me the all-clear. Then he bolts the chains behind me, explaining that they have to keep the building locked up on evenings and weekends because of crime in the area. Wow.

The area is, of course, completely dead on weekends, and I know I have little chance of getting lunch near the office. It's a decent day, despite being overcast, so after a few hours' work, I walk down to Puerto Madero and cross the bridge to a very touristy deli restaurant called Market Place. I had been to this restaurant when I came to Buenos Aires with my parents in 2008 and was impressed with the freshly cooked food, but this time I find it overpriced, overcrowded and badly run. It takes ages to be served, and eventually I get a very dry and disappointing salad and sit outside to people-watch and enjoy the view before heading back to the office. 

Sunbathing on the roof

Back home in the evening, I decide to venture up onto the roof of my apartment building to watch the sun go down. I have to go up a narrow staircase and open a big, hot metal door with a key. I shut the door behind me and watch the beautiful sunset. The door is constantly banging behind me in the wind. 

When I descend to the second floor an hour later, I'm greeted by a rather riled-looking old lady who steps out of her apartment door to tell me off. She gives me a real talking to for allowing the door to keep banging while I was up on the roof. Apparently there's stone I was meant to put in front of the door to stop it banging, and she's really mad at me. Good way to make an impression with the new neighbours!

Back in my flat, I tuck into some of the salad and fresh quiche I bought at the organic market yesterday. Mmm, bliss. Maybe I can get used to Buenos Aires after all. 

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.

Lost in Buenos Aires

Oh god, what a loooong day.

I finally touch down at Ezeiza airport in Buenos Aires at 13:30 this afternoon and get the taxi straight to Palermo Hollywood - the name of my über-cool new neighbourhood, don't you know. I had very jammily managed to find myself an amazing-looking flat here when I was back in England, through a friend of a friend. Jammy, I say, because it turns out the flat is even better than it looks in the pictures - two huge double bedrooms, two living rooms, a lovely bathroom with bathtub, a gorgeous kitchen full of all the amenities I could possibly ever require and, best of all, original wood flooring and super-high ceilings throughout. 

I love it.

The British landlord, who just happens to live in Spain, has arranged for his American neighbour to let me in and hand over the keys, which she does with utmost efficiency. (I had been slightly concerned that I would arrive here at 3pm and it would all be one terrible hoax and I'd be left homeless on the mean streets of Buenos Aires...) 

Anyway, no time for messing about. I spend a little time unpacking, have a Skype chat with The Irishman and send a couple of emails, and then of course it is time to go for a run. Lest we forget, I have a marathon to run on Sunday and I haven't been able to train for about five days with all the mayhem of packing and moving. My neighbour tells me there's a huge park called the Bosques de Palermo about 15 minutes' walk from the flat, so I set off walking that way at 6pm to try and go for my run before the sun sets.

Sadly, the ability to look at a map and memorise a few directions successfully has never been my forté. Arriving at the big main road that she told me to cross, I realise there are several options I can take. 

Cross and go right? 

Cross and go left? 

Cross and go straight on, as she has directed me, is not an option, as there is a big gated park in front, and I don't think that's the park she was talking about, for some reason...

Cross and go left it is then.

Wrong.

I end up getting completely lost around some back streets of Buenos Aires and, after asking several people where I can find the Bosques de Palermo, I'm met with responses ranging from "Oh, it can't be far, just walk five minutes that way" to "Oh, you're waaaaay far away from that, you'll have to get a taxi" to completely blank looks indicating "I really have no idea, and you appear to be foreign..."

About an hour later, I make it to the park, just as the sun is setting. There's a beautiful running track around a lake - this has to be where she meant. I run about 5 kilometres using my Garmin tracker and I'm pretty impressed I can even run in 30-degree-C heat with jetlag. Funnily enough, I manage to run quite well in the heat and I eventually find my way back to the flat, sweating and having really earned my first shower.

After all that adventure, it's time for bed. My first day at work tomorrow looms...