A Travellerspoint blog

The Legendary Pacific Northwest: Oregon Wine Country

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On Friday morning we had one last amazing Portland brunch and then set off for Sauvie Island, a huge island at the fork of the Columbia and Willamette rivers just northeast of Portland. The island is filled with lakes, trails and beaches but our destination was one of the many private farms offering pick-your-own berries. We already knew from the farmers markets that it was the height of the season for blackberries and raspberries but we were still blown away by the enormous volume of fruit on the vines. Ian was still too small to do much but Cleo immediately got into the excitement of filling her basket and turning raspberries into hats for her fingers.
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No one would mistake the Willamette Valley wine country for Napa but it is regarded as one of the best areas in the world for Pinot Noir. Despite the absence of ostentatious chateaux and Michelin-starred restaurants, this wine region less than an hour from downtown Portland provides beautiful landscapes and warm hospitality. We had the winery we visited to ourselves and sipped Pinot Noir while admiring the rolling hills carpeted with grape vines and grazing land. Our bed and breakfast was a colonial style farmhouse that wouldn't have been out of place in New England.
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After a filling breakfast we drove back to Portland for the Portland Saturday Market. This high energy outdoor market on the bank of the Willamette River was a showplace for a great collection of local artists and craftspeople and also had a live band and plenty of food. As usual, Cleo didn't mind at all being the only one dancing and the band made it clear how much they appreciated her.
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We'd been north to Sauvie Island and south to Oregon wine country, so the only thing left to do was drive west to the Columbia River Gorge. A scenic road called the Historic Columbia River Highway took us on a winding path through the hills and evergreen forests overlooking the majestic Columbia River. The highway is dotted with trailheads that penetrate deep into the Mt. Hood National Forest and offer access to a number of beautiful waterfalls. We weren't about to set off on any hikes with the two little ones and the nanny so we contented ourselves with a view of the only waterfall that was right beside the highway.
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Thoroughly amazed and satisfied with Portland, we set a course north to Seattle. After the last three days I couldn't help wondering why Portland isn't more recognized as one of America's most attractive destinations. With a population under two million, Portland's urban area isn't even one of the twenty largest in the country yet it has more to offer travelers than almost any American city other than New York City or Los Angeles.

1. Cool downtown with riverside park, food truck culture, beautiful Chinese garden
2. Vibrant food scene with many high quality bistros, ethnic restaurants, and gourmet brunch seven days a week
3. Awesome art scene with galleries and art walks in the Pearl and on Alberta Street
4. Immediate proximity to Columbia River Gorge and several state forests with fishing, winter and water sports, and one of America's iconic mountains
5. Washington Park with Japanese Garden, Rose Test Garden, and hiking trails
6. Portland Saturday market
7. Friendly and eclectic natives who don't feel bound by mainstream cultural trends
8. Willamette Valley wine country
9. Great farmers markets with excellent local fruit and produce
10. General upbeat, positive vibe with no depressed or decrepit areas near the central city area.

If all that isn't impressive, Portlanders are just an hour away from the Pacific coast and beaches. It's enough to make one wonder if there's any downside to living in Portland. I couldn't think of one so I started doing a little online research. It turns out people's main complaints are the frequent and heavy rains, high cost of living, traffic, and the steep Oregon state tax. The main issue for me would probably be the state tax since Florida doesn't have one, and after that the weather. Miami gets plenty of rain in the summer and fall but it seems that Portland is on a whole other level during the fall and winter. We were there in July and had beautiful temperate weather without a drop of rain to be seen, which may have biased us a little. In the end we decided that we weren't really so bored with Miami that we needed to transplant ourselves across the country, but six years later we still miss Portland and are looking forward to going back for another taste as soon as we can. One of the best things about traveling is the opportunity to discover unheralded cities that are secretly beautiful and magical, and Portland had proven to be an unexpected epiphany.

Posted by zzlangerhans 05:39 Archived in USA Comments (0)

The Legendary Pacific Northwest: Portland

The best travel year of our lives was 2014. We only had two kids then, and they were so young that we didn't need to time our travel with their school vacations. My work schedule was flexible as always and it seemed like every trip we took was better than the last one. We would start planning the next trip within a couple of days after returning from the previous one. I thought we should take a short trip in July and Seattle seemed to be a good choice. I hadn't been there since I was a kid and couldn't remember it at all. Seattle has a reputation for having a unique character among the second tier American cities, kind of like New Orleans or Miami. I thought about five days would do the trick, but then Mei Ling got the idea to drive across the Canadian border to visit Vancouver. Once we started thinking of it as a road trip, it seemed that we should check out Portland as well given that all three cities were just a few hours apart. We brought our nanny with us so that we'd be able to visit some high end restaurants without the babies.

It made the most sense to fly into Portland. To avoid the added expense of renting our minivan from the airport location we took a cab across the Columbia River to Washington State. The town where we picked up the car was also called Vancouver, funnily enough. We drove back to Portland and found ourselves at a chic Airbnb in one of the city's more upscale and modern neighborhoods, the Pearl District. Like many of the most desirable neighborhoods in American cities, the Pearl is a formerly blighted area of warehouses and rail yards that has been transformed into a vibrant neighborhood of lofts, high-rise condominiums, art galleries, and bistros. Our Airbnb was the quintessential loft conversion with a concrete floor and exposed pipes. The neighborhood vibe was amazing with block after block of attractive brick homes, cafes, and boutiques. In the center of the Pearl is Jamison Square, a small park with a fountain and a waterfall that is always full of kids escaping from the summer heat.
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One of the first things I do when I research a city is to make a list of the farmers markets. Most of the time there are a few on the weekends and one or two during the week. In Portland I found four just on Wednesday. Once we'd had breakfast in the Pearl we decided to make the rest of the morning about farmers markets. On the way downtown we passed by Providence Park, the home of Portland's soccer team and a huge bronze sculpture of a man's smiling face.
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The Portland Farmers Market was the first and best of the markets we visited that day. It was held in the north end of Shemanski Park, a one block wide string of green space that extends for about ten blocks in downtown Portland. We were really impressed by the quality of the produce, especially the berries. The blackberries and raspberries were among the biggest and sweetest we've ever tasted. There was a lot of variety and a great vibe, so we continued to be pretty impressed with our first day in Portland.
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Continuing eastward through the downtown area we eventually found ourselves at the waterfront park on the west bank the Willamette River. Here we found another fountain to cool off in. Cleo didn't think she should be the only one soaked from head to toe so she tried to push me in.
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We headed back inland a few blocks and found a large grouping of food trucks on Southwest Third Avenue where we got a decent lunch and enjoyed the rhythms of lunchtime activity in downtown Portland. The vibe of the area was really energetic and positive, a sharp contrast to the depressed and grimy downtown of our home city of Miami.
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We kept working our way up north, passing by a long line of people outside of Voodoo Doughnut. Whatever voodoo spell induces tourists to line up for hours outside a doughnut shop didn't seem to have any effect on us. Eventually we reached the Lan Su Chinese Garden which was a much better way to spend the afternoon. This was the most authentic version we'd seen outside of China, which wasn't surprising considering it was designed by artisans from the Chinese water city of Suzhou.
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By now we were close to our Airbnb in the Pearl, so we retrieved our car and drove across the Willamette to the east side where there was another farmer's market, quite a bit smaller than the first. We were still full from the food trucks but we loaded up on balloon animals for Cleo and then headed over to Northeast Alberta Street, a long stretch of art galleries and inexpensive ethnic restaurants in Portland's northern reaches. We had dinner at a Thai place and then returned to the Pearl. We had expected Portland to be pleasant but we'd been blown away by our first day. The neighborhoods, the farmers markets, downtown, the garden, the fountains - we'd couldn't remember seeing so much fun and interesting stuff in one city before. We were mystified why Portland doesn't really get any buzz when people talk about American cities, but we were glad to have stumbled upon it.
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Our first full day in Portland was a tough act to follow, but our second day held up pretty well. We started the day with brunch, which is almost a religious meal in Portland. Seven days a week people line up outside their favorite brunch restaurants before they open as the best ones rarely take reservations. The variety of menu options and the level of cuisine at the places we chose was comparable to dinner at an upscale restaurant.

On the western edge of Portland, where the city grid gives way to the hilly suburbs, is an enormous park which houses a cornucopia of gardens, memorials, and hiking trails as well as the Portland Zoo. The International Rose Test Garden was created during World War I to provide a safe haven for the different varieties of roses that risked obliteration by the land war in Europe. Portland was already known for its ideal conditions for rose growth, and the garden has since become one of the world's foremost testing grounds for new rose varieties. You don't need to be a horticulturalist to appreciate the acres of colorful and fragrant rose gardens in a beautiful and natural setting. Not far from the rose gardens is Portland's Japanese Garden, which was the equal of the Lan Su Chinese Garden in beauty and authenticity. Afterwards we treated the kids to a couple of hours at the zoo which was just a few minutes drive away.
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One of the unique Portland places I uncovered in my travel research is the Freakybuttrue Peculiarium. This kind of idiosyncratic curiosity shop seems to be unique to the United States, but unfortunately there's nothing like it in Miami as far as I know. Located in the funky Slabtown neighborhood northwest of the Pearl, the Peculiarium has been freaking out visitors since 1967. Even if we'd missed the sandwich board in front of the establishment, we probably wouldn't have walked past the zombie in the wheelchair on the sidewalk. Inside the displays ranged from an autopsy conducted by aliens to an enormous yeti. We made sure not to leave without picking up a couple of the scorpion lollipops.
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There was one more farmers market that afternoon for us to get our fix of huge, succulent Oregon berries before we headed downtown for dinner. In two days Portland had absolutely blown us away. We haven't been to many places that got us seriously thinking about the logistics of pulling up stakes in Miami and moving in but Portland is probably the most attractive alternative we've ever found to our home city.
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Posted by zzlangerhans 09:51 Archived in USA Comments (0)

Tango and Gauchos: Uruguay part II


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In the morning we had a few mosquito bites from the open windows in the Airbnb, but nothing too terrible. We went back to Mercado del Puerto for breakfast and then set off for Mercado Agricola, or the Agricultural Market, in the center of town. We had hopes for a bustling produce market but what we found was more like a mall with some grocery stores and specialty food stores inside a renovated, atmospheric old market building. It was a decent place to wander around in for an hour but we probably would have preferred its previous incarnation.
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I had uncovered our next destination via an exhaustive Google search for special events in Montevideo. It was an arts festival in Parque Prado in the north of the city that was only mentioned on a Spanish language website. Once we arrived it was pretty clear we'd found the most fun thing to do in Montevideo on Easter weekend. Cars were parked bumper to bumper in the entire neighborhood around the park. Inside we found the arts festival with some very beautiful and creative displays of handicrafts. One popular theme was thermos and cup sets for drinking yerba mate, the herbal tea that many people carry around wherever they go in Uruguay.
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There were plenty of other things to do on the festival grounds. There was a crafts area for the kids, live music performances, a rodeo, and the biggest open air parrillada we had ever seen. Not many tourists make it to Montevideo in the first place, and there were absolutely none besides us at this community festival far from the old town. It was a very enjoyable way to appreciate the Uruguayan national character.
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Around the corner from the festival was the Botanical Garden of Montevideo. It had a beautiful Japanese garden with ponds and bridges that were illuminated by the afternoon sunlight that filtered through a dense canopy of trees. It was a pleasant consolation for having missed the Japanese Garden in Palermo in Buenos Aires.
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Back in Ciudad Vieja we stopped by Plaza Matriz for a better look at the beautiful fountain in the center. The peaceful park is in sharp contrast to the sculpture of a violent battle between horsemen. On the sidewalk a group of elderly dancers were executing a delicate tango and naturally our kids joined in.
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Dinner that evening was al fresco at a cute seafood restaurant we'd noticed that morning next to Mercado del Puerto.
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That night we made another futile attempt to close the windows and keep out the mosquitos. Although we covered ourselves with repellent I was awakened in the night several times by the insistent whining of the obnoxious insects around my ears. In the morning we were horrified to discover that despite the repellent all the kids had dozens of bites. By far the worst was Spenser, who was absolutely covered in welts even in the places which had been covered by clothing. Fortunately it was our last night or we would have had to change locations after that experience. The bites looked horrible but the kids weren't too troubled so we wedged all our belongings back into the car and proceeded onward to Feria de Tristán Narvaja, a Sunday market in the center of Montevideo. This was the first real outdoor farmers market we'd encountered since arriving in South America a week earlier, and it was a welcome sight. Aside from the produce there was artwork, food stalls, and even an assortment of musical instruments handcrafted from gourds and bamboo. The stalls extended over several intersecting streets and included a large flea market as well.
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We weren't in any rush to get back to Colonia so we decided to let the kids spend a couple of hours at the beach and the little amusement park next to it by Parque Rodo. It was overcast, the water was icy cold, and the beach was strewn with garbage but the kids didn't seem to mind. Despite my pleas Ian went waist deep into the water and was promptly bowled over by a wave. The amusement park was surprisingly expensive but we made sure the kids got their fill of rides for being such good sports about the abundance of mosquito bites we had subjected them to.
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The only odd thing that happened on the way from Montevideo to Colonia was that we almost ran out of gas. We had half a tank when we left Montevideo and at Mei Ling's urging I started to look out for a station when we still had about a third of a tank. We drove for about sixty miles after that with no sign whatsoever of a gas station or a town. Eventually it was clear we couldn't go much further while we were still about fifteen miles from Montevideo and I had to search for a gas station using Google Maps. The navigation took us off the highway and another five miles of driving over local roads before we finally found the gas station with the needle pinned on empty. I can't remember ever encountering such a long stretch of highway before without a gas station. I don't know if it's something specific to Uruguay or just weird luck but I'll certainly be paying more attention to keeping my tank full on international road trips in the future.

Colonia is tiny compared to Montevideo but has many more tourists, mostly daytrippers from Buenos Aires who want to add another country to their lists. It was already dark once we were settled in our apartment so there wasn't much to do except dinner. The following morning we had several hours before we needed to catch the ferry which was more than enough time to explore. The old town is quaint and well-preserved, with pastel-colored houses, stone walls, and generous clumps of bougainvillea. It's a very pleasant place to walk around in but hard to escape the sense of an artificial environment designed to cater to the tastes of tourists rather than locals. Most visitors tend to congregate around the short, picturesque alley known as Calle de los Suspiros, the street of sighs, and Porton de Campo, a preserved portion of the old city wall. It was a good place to stroll around and relax for a morning but I would take Montevideo any day. We had lunch in a cafe that wouldn't have been out of place on a Caribbean island and then hastened back to the port to drop off our car.
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I didn't want the hassle of spending another night in Buenos Aires so I had fixed our schedule so that we would go straight from the ferry terminal to the airport. If we had some kind of delay with the ferry we could have missed our red-eye back to Miami, but fortunately everything went off as planned and we had an extra hour in the airport for a leisurely dinner before our departure. We had taken a small risk flying such a long distance for just a nine day trip but it had paid off. We had enjoyed ourselves, eaten well, and learned a little more about the variety of life experiences in the amazing world we live in.
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Posted by zzlangerhans 11:27 Archived in Uruguay Comments (2)

Tango and Gauchos: Uruguay part I


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We had an uneventful hour-long ferry ride across the Rio de la Plata to Colonia del Sacramento in Uruguay. Colonia changed hands during multiple wars between Spain and Portugal, and subsequently between Argentina and Spain, before Uruguay was given independence in 1828. The city is known for its preserved historical quarter and crumbling stone fortifications. We were only there to pick up our rental car and grab a quick lunch before proceeding onward to our estancia a couple of hours away.

When the agent brought us our car, I was sure there had been a mistake. It was a tiny subcompact and I'm always very careful to specify a full-sized vehicle. The trunk of the car was just large enough to fit our main suitcase and nothing else. We still had two other bags and the stroller, let alone the three kids to wedge into the back seat. I reviewed my reservation and couldn't find any mention of the car size. My best guess was that I had changed the reservation for some reason and then forgotten to specify a full-size. The agent told me that car was the only automatic they had available, so we were stuck. We were able to cram everything inside, although everyone but the driver had to rest their legs on top of suitcases. There was just a foot of space between the two car seats in the back but Cleo squeezed in there with her booster and pronounced it acceptable. We drove off looking like a clown car from the circus, but we had all our possessions.

It was a fairly uncomplicated process to get a SIM card in Colonia. Unlike in Buenos Aires, where our SIM card was never activated even after we visited the Claro store, our Urugayan SIM was activated immediately and we had cellular internet and navigation for the first time during the trip. We drove to Plaza Mayor in the center of the old town which was lined with busy cafes. It was mid-afternoon and all the real restaurants had closed, so we made do with hamburgers and fries at a cafe with a very pretty back patio. On the way out of Plaza Mayor our GPS directed us down a short section of road which had a one way sign posted against us. It was a wide street and we only had to go a few hundred feet so we decided to follow the GPS. Sure enough we were immediately pulled over by a police car and we were given a ticket without any regard for my protestations about the GPS. I had a feeling that was an event that happens about twenty times a day, another source of tourist revenue for the city.
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There are many estancias in Uruguay that accommodate tourists but I picked Finca Piedra for its good reviews and its proximity to Buenos Aires. Finca Piedra is mostly focused on comfort and relaxation rather than an authentic estancia experience, but the kids weren't old enough to do real farm work. The kids did get to try their hands at milking cows and they got to play with unusual animals like capybaras and rheas which had their run of the farm.
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Cleo and Ian also had their first experience with horseback riding. At first we were just going to let Cleo go with Mei Ling while I stayed at the lodge with the boys, but Ian made it pretty clear he didn't want to be left out so one of the other guests volunteered to ride with him.
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Although the estancia was practically within sight of the highway, we had great views over the rolling Uruguayan pampas. During the days we explored the fields and the vineyards where the owners grew the grapes they used to make Tannat and Cabernet Sauvignon wines on the premises. Tannat wine is emblematic of Uruguay although the varietal was originally grown in southwest France. Aside from the fact that Tannat grows better in Uruguay than anywhere else in the world, the highly tannic wines the grapes produce couple particularly well with the rich cuts of beef that are beloved to the locals. After dinner we would sip wine around the roaring fireplace while the kids played with their newfound friends.
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Down the road from Finca Piedra was the tiny town of Mal Abrigo. We dropped by on our last full day to have parrillada at the only real restaurant in town. On the side streets we saw some very colorful, well-maintained houses. By the rail station there were a couple of small shacks where craftspeople knitted woolen hats and shawls on nail boards. Aside from that it we could have been in any small town of a few hundred people anywhere in the world.
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I wasn't disappointed with our stay at Finca Piedra, mainly because the kids enjoyed it a lot and there are worse things in the world than relaxation. Nevertheless, that isn't why I travel and we probably wouldn't do something similar again. There's just too much to see in the world to spend precious days with our feet up around a pool or a fireplace. Fortunately Montevideo turned out to be much more interesting than we had expected.
It was only an hour and half away from the estancia but it was like entering another world after three days away from civilization. Our Airbnb was ideally situated facing Plaza Zabala in the colonial old town but the interior was a step down from our Buenos Aires apartment. We had a somewhat dingy fourth-floor walk-up whose windows wouldn't close completely. It didn't really matter to us much as we weren't planning on spending a lot of time there. We only had two days and a good-sized city to explore. It was time for lunch so we made a beeline for Mercado del Puerto, which was converted some time ago from a market into a hall of parrillas. The fact that it was Good Friday seemed to have no impact here. There were at least a dozen restaurants packed with customers, and the sights and smells of grilling meat were everywhere. By now the kids were all asleep and we had to wedge both strollers around a cramped table in the middle of our chosen restaurant, Spenser's snoring weight on my back was a small price to pay for a peaceful meal without the clamor of the kids, and the parrillada was better than any we had had in Buenos Aires.
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We cut back across the old town via the long pedestrian alley Calle Perez Castellano until we reached La Rambla, the wide promenade that runs along the southern coastline of Montevideo. We enjoyed the breeze coming in off the Atlantic for a few blocks before heading back into the city until we reached Plaza Independencia, which marks the transition between Ciudad Vieja and modern Montevideo. The plaza itself is not particularly remarkable but it is surrounded by some of Montevideo's best examples of colonial architecture. The stunning Palacio Salvo on the eastern side was at one time the tallest building in South America and currently houses the Museum of Tango as well as some private residences. Palacio Salvo also marks the beginning of Avenida 18 de Julio, Montevideo's main commercial avenue. On the northern side of the plaza are stately colonial mansions incongruously juxtaposed with modern office buildings. At the western end of the plaza is Puerta de la Ciudadela, a preserved fragment of the walls that surrounded Ciudad Vieja until 1827.
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Once through the gate we were back in the old town. We made our way east back to Plaza Zabala where the kids cavorted on the playground equipment until darkness had fallen and it was time to retire for the night.
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Posted by zzlangerhans 07:11 Archived in Uruguay Comments (1)

Tango and Gauchos: Buenos Aires part II


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There was no Metro in La Boca and it didn't look too far away on the map so we decided to walk there to look for a restaurant. Our route took us through Parque Lezama, an attractive green space with some impressive monuments and its own Sunday flea market.
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The barrio of Buenos Aires that is most emblematic of the city is La Boca. The neighborhood is situated at the mouth of the Matanza River that forms the southern border of the city, hence the name "The Mouth". La Boca is known worldwide for the buildings painted in bright. contrasting primary colors especially along the pedestrian street El Caminito. If you're writing a guidebook or composing a travel website for Buenos Aires, it's mandatory to emblazon the cover or front webpage with a vibrant picture of El Caminito. La Boca is historically a rough, working-class neighborhood associated with the nearby shipyards and only carries a veneer of gaiety. El Caminito is the creation of a local artist in the 1960's and has basically become a tourist trap full of souvenir shops and other tack. There's no underestimating the importance of a colorful picture in attracting business, but unfortunately the liveliness of El Caminito hasn't done much to elevate the rest of the neighborhood which continues to be considered seedy and even dangerous. El Caminito was at the far southern end of La Boca which made our walk there much longer than we had realized. We had to practically run the last few blocks to see the colored houses before the sun set.
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Having accomplished the compulsory walk down El Caminito we set off in search of a restaurant and came up empty-handed. Perhaps if we hadn't had a lousy meal in the Mercado de San Telmo the previous night we might have been more willing to risk one of the small, dim restaurants we encountered on the street. This would be our second of only three dinners in Buenos Aires and we weren't willing to risk another disappointment. Instead we walked around the dim streets a little longer to look at the street art. The previous evening I had some time to review the appalling history of Argentina's Dirty War in the 1970's and 1980's and so I had some idea of the meaning of the murals. Subsequent to the military coup in 1976, the junta initiated a relentless campaign of suppression against any elements of their own population that disputed their policies. While this is something that has happened countless times with dictatorships in modern history, the actions of the junta and their proxies was notable for their ruthlessness and inhumanity. Among the atrocities were thousands of extrajudicial killings, including the dumping of live victims from airplanes flying over the ocean such that their bodies have never been recovered. Many children were orphaned or otherwise taken from their families and given to members of the military to raise as their own. Because of incredibly evil tactics such as these, many families still do not know what became of their loved ones or children during the Dirty War and the wounds of that time have never been able to completely heal.

Perhaps the most shocking of all the things I read about the Dirty War was the story of the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo. This was a group of mothers of young people who had disappeared who began to congregate together on the Plaza de Mayo in front of the presidential palace every Thursday beginning in 1977. They wore white scarves around their heads to symbolize the diapers of their lost children. Incredibly, the mother who was the founder of this movement was herself kidnapped, tortured, and thrown from an airplane into the sea by the direct order of the leader of the military junta. It is a tale of absolute depravity that is the equal of anything engineered by Hitler or Pol Pot, and a shocking reminder of the depths that human beings can sink to when they believe themselves to be above any concept of morality. The Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo is a common theme of street art in Buenos Aires and the roads themselves are emblazoned in many places with stencils of the white scarves that became their emblem. They are heartbreaking reminders of the importance of never becoming complacent about life and liberty.
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La Boca had one last interesting sight for us. Outside of the closed art museum Fundacion PROA was an enormous art installation composed from hundreds of metal bicycle frames welded together into a gigantic archway. On closer inspection I learned that the sculpture was the work of Chinese dissident artist Ai Weiwei. For a few minutes while the kids gleefully wedged themselves between the bicycles I was able to reflect on the incongruity of a politically-charged sculpture reflecting repression on the opposite side of the world in a city whose present was still defined by brutal political oppression that had ended thirty-five years earlier. And here was I, a tourist with no stake in either country, witnessing artistic depictions of both conflicts within minutes of each other.
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At this point we were on the main road that coursed along the Matanza River so it was a relatively simple task to jump on a bus northward to San Telmo. On the way to our restaurant we heard an enormous clamor of beating drums emanating from a side street. We paused at the intersection and soon a procession appeared, many of whom were beating on conga drums. For a moment we thought it was a regular parade of some sort and then we remembered the events from earlier in the day. We followed the procession into the next street and sure enough we found ourselves in the midst of another protest. We didn't expect to make any further sense of what we were seeing so we proceeded onward to the famous parilla restaurant we had chosen, Desnivel. It was a pleasant atmosphere and the beer was cold, but I'm not sure if there's an Argentine parillada that's ideal for our taste. We'd had some highly-recommended versions for both lunch and dinner and my take was the same as it had been when we'd eaten it in Miami: greasy and salty.
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Before turning in for the night we passed by Plaza Dorrego, a small square surrounded by bars and cafes. There was a large group of people surrounding a dance floor that had been created in the center of the plaza and we could see that a tango exhibition with professional dancers was in progress. It finished soon after we arrived and many of the observers flooded into the square and began an Argentinian folk dance that was similar to the one we had scene at the Feria de Mataderos earlier that day.
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Once we were back at the Airbnb I hooked up to Wifi to review world events and saw the horrifying news that an entire American family had died of carbon monoxide poisoning from a faulty water heater at a short-term rental in Tulum, Mexico. We had stayed overnight in Tulum ourselves just three months earlier. I found the water heater in our own apartment and studied it, quickly realizing I would have absolutely no clue how to determine if it was leaking carbon monoxide. It was just one of those risks of traveling we would have to accept and try not to think about. Fortunately it was something that didn't seem to happen often. It was still hard for me to fall asleep that night thinking of a family just like ours who wanted to show their children the world and were now gone from the earth as silently as a candle being snuffed out.

In the morning we had breakfast at Mercado de San Telmo again, and then set our north for a walking tour of the upscale barrios of San Nicolás, Retiro, Recoleta, and Palermo. Once we had seen these places we could feel like we had seen everything that my research had indicated was necessary to have a complete impression of Buenos Aires. It was Monday now and the protesters had been replaced by regular folks going around their business in the busy downtown area.
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Just north of the Plaza de Mayo we stumbled upon Calle Florida, Buenos Aires' iconic pedestrian shopping street. The street was somewhat reminiscent of a European pedestrian thoroughfare that one might see in Madrid or Paris, if somewhat narrower and a little shadowy due to the tall commercial buildings that surrounded us on either side. At one intersection a lively six-person band alleviated the somewhat somber atmosphere. Just as in Paris, some entryways opened up into cavernous arcades with marble walls and upscale boutiques.
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We came out the north end of Calle Florida and found ourselves at the entrance of Plaza San Martin, a large park in the upscale Retiro neighborhood. It was a fairly conventional city park except for the trees, which were both unfamiliar and breathtaking. At the center was an enormous ombú that had been allowed to spit out a low serpentine branch about twenty meters into an adjacent glade, where it performed double duty as a park bench. Even more amazing were the towering tipa trees that lined the paths, whose curving branches split again and again until they looked like green fan coral blocking out the sky. From a plaza lined with flowering magnolias we could see the Torre Monumental, a majestic clocktower that commemorates the country's independence.
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After the park things started to go sideways. My plan for the rest of the day had been to walk through the barrio of Recoleta and see the Floralis Genérica sculpture, followed by the Jardín Japonés and then dinner in Palermo. Unfortunately Mei Ling started getting stomach pain while we were in the park and it steadily got worse as we resumed our walk. I palpated her stomach carefully and there was no localized tenderness to suggest a serious problem. I tried buying antacids at a pharmacy but they didn't help. We went on as long as we could but eventually it was clear that the pain wasn't going to go away any time soon so we caught a taxi back to the Airbnb. Mei Ling went to bed and I went out with Cleo to find something to bring back for dinner. I couldn't face parrillada again and there didn't seem to be any other kind of restaurants in our neighborhood. Eventually we went back to the Mercado de San Telmo and I bought some roasted chicken for the kids. It was disappointing not to have completed our exploration of Buenos Aires, but I think the upscale, modern neighborhoods of Recoleta and Palermo probably had the least to offer us anyway. It would have been nice to have seen the Floralis Genérica, but fortunately one can still see many photos of it online. I stole one of them that is better than any photo I could have taken.
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In the morning Mei Ling was completely back to normal, which of course was a huge relief. My best guess was that she had an attack of gastritis from all the greasy parilla we had been eating. We had to catch our ferry across the Rio de la Plata to Uruguay and there wasn't time for anything but a quick breakfast. I don't think that the events of the last day had too much of an effect of my impression of Buenos Aires, but I don't feel particularly inclined to return to the city to see the things we missed. We'd had a busy weekend but most of the interesting things we did were related to events like the Ferias. I felt that Buenos Aires punched below its size when it came to things we enjoy like food markets, walking neighborhoods, and colonial architecture. It seemed to me like a city that had never achieved its full potential, possibly due to decades of political strife and military misadventure. Tango and La Boca don't put Buenos Aires in the echelon of Rio or Mexico City, let alone cities like Madrid or Barcelona. Of course, Buenos Aires might be an absolutely fantastic place to live but I wouldn't put it in my top fifty cities in the world to visit.

Posted by zzlangerhans 08:56 Archived in Argentina Comments (0)

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