We again pulled into port in the early pre-dawn, so we were docked in Buenos Aires by the time we got up. Like Montevideo, the cruise ships tie up at the commercial piers shared with the freighters, so our view from the deck was of a distant BA skyline over the tanks, warehouses, and boxcars.
BA is huge and sprawls like Los Angeles. 13 million people are in the greater BA area. In the latter half of the 19th century, soaring agricultural exports funneled a lot of money into BA, resulting in elaborate mansions, public buildings, and wide, Parisian-style boulevards. We hadn’t set up any formal tours, so shank’s mare would be our method of getting around. The ship docked Saturday morning, but we would get one more night on board before having to disembark early Sunday. Our location out in the industrial dock boonies meant a rather long bus ride to the terminal where we could get started. Once there, we were offered a free shuttle bus into the heart of town. Can’t resist free, so we hopped on. The gimmick was that it dropped us off right in front of the sponsoring high-end jewelry store, with friendly greeters to usher everyone inside. We could resist that, and set out down Calle Florida, the main pedestrian-mall shopping street in the city center. It was a mixture of modern store-fronts and classic buildings. It also had hordes of tourist police, just like Montevideo. I sensed one young guy maneuvering behind me, whirled around, and caught him with a guilty-as-hell look before he did an about-face and disappeared.
One of the openings along the Calle turned out to be the entrance into a high-end fancy shopping center, the Galleria Pacifico, that would have been right at home in Paris, including its prices. We did a lot of window shopping, but no buying. No bargains here.
Calle Florida runs about 12 blocks and ends near the main square in the city center, Plaza Mayo, ground zero for centuries of protests. Originally named Fortress Plaza when laid out in 1580, it acquired its present name after the date Buenos Aires declared independence from Spain – May 25, 1810.
The entire east side of the Plaza is taken up by the Casa Rosada (Pink House), the presidential palace where Juan and Eva Peron used to hold their balcony showtimes for the assembled masses. Madonna crooned from here in the movie, “Evita.”
You will note the tall iron fence surrounding the Palace. This, of course, is not unlike the fence surrounding our White House. What is peculiar to BA, however, is that similar fences, or high walls, surround almost all of the public parks and gathering places throughout the city. You can’t just walk into a park; you have to circumnavigate the thing to find the one entrance that is open. That can take a lot of walking. This is, I’m sure, a remnant of BA/Argentina’s tumultuous past where limiting/controlling access to potential demonstration sites was a government priority. Anyway, the Palace was hosting an outdoor display of photographs taken over the years by the official presidential photographer. U.S. – Argentina relations are rather rocky at times, perhaps explaining the choice of the photo of Dubbya, which I love. This probably dates from his visit in 2005 during the Summit of the Americas.
The woman with the scepter and the man clapping are the Kirchners, Cristina and Nestor. Nestor, a native of Patagonia, was elected president in 2003 as the antidote to a long series of dishonest BA politicians and disastrous economic policies (the country was dead broke in 2002, banks were open only 6 days all year, people hid what money they had under mattresses, and half the population was below the official poverty line), and he was largely up to the task. He negotiated debt refinancing with the IMF, actually paid it off in 2006, addressed the human rights violations of the prior military dictatorship, and guided economic growth; but he also presided over rampant inflation, a belligerent foreign policy (cozied up with Hugo Chavez), and a growing rift between rich and poor. He stepped aside in 2007, in favor of Cristina’s succession as president. She has proved popular with the masses (Evita II?), not so much with running the ship of state. “Official” inflation persists at 25%, probably higher in reality. Nestor was supposed to step back in as president in 2011, but died of a heart attack in 2010, leaving Cristina to run again without his guidance. She won! Now she’s pandering to national pride by stirring up the Falkland Islands imbroglio (in Argentina, they’re always referred to as the Malvinas, and woe betides any foreigner who utters the “F” word).
Also along the Plaza Mayo is the huge 1827 Cathedral Metropolitana,
which also houses the tomb of Argentina’s most revered hero of independence, General Jose de San Martin, protected by flanking honor guards. We thought the mosaic tile floors were particularly handsome.
One of the diagonal streets that branches off from the Plaza Mayo is Roque Saenz Pena,
which offers a view of the Obelisco, dedicated in 1936 on the 400th anniversary of the first Spanish settlement on the Rio de la Plata. It is supposed to symbolize BA much like the Eiffel Tower does Paris or the Washington Monument does D.C. It sits in the middle of the biggest (widest) street in BA, Avenue 9 de Julio. Soccer fans circle the Obelisco following particularly important national team victories, and it is ground zero for measuring E/W and N/S distances from the city center. There are seven lanes in each direction on the Avenue.
By this time, we were walked out, and headed back to the ship to get a late lunch (already paid for, so . . .), ignoring the smells and displays emanating from the local parrillas (steak houses).
After lunch, we spent the rest of the afternoon packing and tagging our bags. We would have to put them outside our door before 11:00 pm. They get picked up, sorted, and routed according to your tags. Most all flights to the States leave at night from BA’s airport, and the ship kicks everyone off before 9:00 a.m., so it offers day-long tours (tango, lunch, gauchos) for those that are going home the same day. They get the tour and are delivered, with their bags, to the airport at the end of the day. It’s a good way to get there without hassle. We, however, were staying on an additional three days in BA at a B&B, so our bags were delivered to the port terminal, where we would pick them up and fend for ourselves. Since this was the last night on board ship, the kitchen went all out, offering lobster tails, surf & turf, etc. They did a great job. Afterwards, there was a final gathering in the theatre for a farewell to representative members of the crew, with well-deserved applause.
Based on our experience, we can wholeheartedly recommend the Celebrity Line, and won’t hesitate to book a future cruise with them if the itinerary is right.
Now, just where is that B&B located?
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