I repeatedly wonder aloud how the city and so many of its inhabitants can continue to look so good. The answer that keeps coming back boils down to this: Looking good is a central tenet of the culture in this country that was once one of the richest on Earth. When Argentine actor Fernando Lamas would repeat his familiar phrase, "You look mahvelous, darling" -- a phrase famously vamped by comedian Billy Crystal -- he was summing up the ethos of his country.
Perhaps native-born Patricia Foster gives the best insight into current-day Argentina. Foster, who works long hours managing a tourist ranch about two hours outside the city, is one of those classy women who throw on a shawl and look as if they just stepped out of a Town & Country ad. Life is tough, she says, and she's lucky to have a job. Unlike her parents did with her, she is unable to help her grown daughter, whose monthly earnings don't even pay her rent. But it's important to keep up appearances.
"We live here like in the theater," Foster says. I must say: It's a very good show.
Walk-a-Thon
The Spanish were the first European settlers to arrive and conquer here, and some of the churches built by Jesuit missionaries remain in Buenos Aires. But subsequent waves of European immigrants have left their mark. There are about as many Italian restaurants in the city as there are steakhouses, and you can raise a glass in an Irish tavern with a Spanish-speaking O'Donnell or Flaherty, or have a German strudel in a cafe in an old French mansion.
About 9 million of Argentina's 37 million people live in and near the port city, which boasts 47 separate and distinct neighborhoods.
When I learn that our hotel is in the central business district, I assume it will be a long walk from anything other than canyons of office buildings. But it turns out Buenos Aires doesn't have soulless high-rise neighborhoods. The ground floors of office buildings are used for retail, so our hotel on Reconquista is surrounded with chic stores and restaurants, the streets lively with pedestrians from early morning until late at night. As long as we stash our cameras and keep our mouths shut, Pam and I are mistaken for locals. People handing out fliers trying to entice us into restaurants or stores routinely address us in Spanish. When it becomes clear we're from the United States, we get an enthusiastic greeting. Argentines, we're told, still remember with gratitude Jimmy Carter's call for human rights at a time they were under the thumbs of a right-wing military dictatorship. They still fondly recall that then-first lady Hillary Clinton met with the mothers and grandmothers of "the disappeared." (Amnesty International has documented the disappearance of 9,000 people at the hands of the military dictatorship that ruled from 1976 to 1983. Estimates of disappearances range up to 40,000. Each Thursday, mothers of the disappeared rally at the Plaza de Maya, reminding the current government that they still seek answers to the fate of family members who vanished.)
Although we've taken an 11-hour, overnight flight from Dulles, the one-hour time difference means no jet lag, and we hit the streets immediately upon arrival.
We quickly realize we don't have to plan our days. Like a handful of great cities around the world, Buenos Aires is a place where you can walk aimlessly and be assured of finding numerous things of interest. It's got that palpable sense of energy: Street performers pop up all over the city, and dozens of museums and other attractions are concentrated in several downtown neighborhoods. Our meandering path on our first day through the Centro and Retiro neighborhoods leads past museums dedicated to art, crime and forensics, photography, city history, currency, ethnography. Given that entrance fees range from 30 cents to a couple of dollars, you can pop in and out without feeling obligated to absorb every detail of every exhibit.
We've planned our trip so that we'll be free on a Sunday, to take in the San Telmo market. The neighborhood is considered slightly dicey at night, but on Sundays, it feels as if all of Buenos Aires has gathered for a massive street fair.
A brochure we've picked up at a downtown information kiosk lists the addresses of 92 clubs for dancing tango, the sultry heart and most internationally recognized symbol of Buenos Aires. But if your interest in tango is casual and you just want to see a few couples perform, you'll find them here on the streets, dancing for tips.
Classical guitarists are also playing for tips. Miming is a popular art form here, and costumes are elaborate. I didn't know there were so many mimes in the entire world. It's as if they had an international convention here, and everyone stayed.
And of course the main attraction: stuff. The market offers new, used and antique goods of every conceivable variety. I'm tantalized by big things -- garden sculptures, elaborately decorated wrought iron gates, old wooden doors for which I have no use but love anyway, and huge copper pots and pans. I settle on some easily packed handmade jewelry, and vow to return some day for the pots.
