Perfect friend

I guess this is goodbye, old pal, you've been a perfect friend

I guess this is goodbye, old pal  

Saturday morning Nacho and I were up relatively early considering the late finish to the night before. Pablo picked us up and the three of us went for a great brunch at a little bistro called Oui Oui. The eggs were amazing and really set me up for the day, getting rid of the small headache that was starting to form. I was told I should also try the fresh lemonade. It too was amazing. Our post night out drinking hunger cured we set out for El Tigre, a beautiful place just to the north of BA. The place is on an island surrounded by a series of small rivers and streams. We headed for the centre and managed to park in a spot close to the main market. Tigre is a very popular weekend destination with lots of people leaving the city to take in the scenery of the area.

We walked through the market, a mix of craft stalls and fresh produce taking up most of the space. There was the odd furniture shop and one random store that seemed to sell nothing but second hand glass bottles in every shape and size that you could imagine. The walk along the river was really beautiful. As we passed by the Argentine Rowing Club I remarked what a lovely building it was. It was done in a mock Tudor style and reminded me a little of home. I tried to explain this to Pablo & Nacho but my Spanish wasn’t good enough. I gave up, saying “No sé cómo explicar “Tudors” en español” (“I don’t know how to explain “Tudors” in Spanish”). Pablo and Nacho chatted in Spanish for a while, before Pablo finally turned to me and said “Ah yes. Judas! Juda-a-a! Judas! Juda-a-a!” bursting into the Lady Gaga song. I laughed out loud. It was clear that I hadn’t quite conquered the language barrier just yet.

We continued our walk down along the river to the Tigre Art Museum and stopped for some mate, a local tea drink. I have to admit to not being a very good Englishman as I don’t really drink tea. This seems to surprise people I meet as I think they believe that everyone in England drinks at least five cups of tea a day. I tried the local tea anyway, which is made by steeping dried yerba mate leaves in hot water in a small bowl like cup with a metal straw. The mate cup is passed between the group of people drinking. It was all very social but not my cup of tea, so to speak.

After sitting in the sun for a while we headed back to where the car was parked. Pablo asked me what I thought of Tigre. I attempted a reply in Spanish saying “Soy muy lindo” in order to let him know that I thought it was a very pretty area. Unfortunately “Soy muy lindo” means “I am very pretty”. Pablo and Nacho both laughed and very kindly agreed that I was pretty. That became my stock response for the rest of my time in BA. It had been a really nice day out of the city and Nacho and I had a quiet night in with me cooking dinner. After dinner as Nacho was clearing up I remembered that there was still a spare chicken breast left in the oven. From out of nowhere I did a sentence in perfect Spanish that I didn’t realise I knew all the vocabulary for. Nacho seemed equally taken aback as I told him “Hay una pechuga en el horno”.

You've been a perfect friend

Having had a quiet night in Nacho and I were up early on Sunday so we took a bus over to Santa Fe for breakfast at Natural Deli. We sat having breakfast whilst reading the Sunday papers. Well, Nacho read the paper, I looked through one of the supplements that had a lot of photos in it and tried to read the comics. It was another clear and sunny day so after breakfast we headed over to the ecological reserve for a walk. The reserve was quiet, the occasional runner or cyclist passing us as we walked along in the morning sunshine. I had a great chat with Nacho about family, life, work and pechugas en el horno. Our walk lasted the whole morning and in to early afternoon. The reserve is a great place to get away from the city for a while. After such a long walk we were ready for some more food and had lunch at a lovely restaurant called Quimbobo, sat outside on the roof terrace. Lunch was followed by a bus ride home and a siesta.

It being Sunday night I was invited along to the regular Sunday night out with the gang. The venue tonight was El Federal, the place where I had first met Pablo, Nacho and Dario. It seemed fitting for my last night in Buenos Aires. Emanuel was also there and he was a little more sober than the last time I had seen him. The evening seemed to fly by and we were soon doing goodbyes. I was told that I had a place in Buenos Aires whenever if ever I should return. I told my new friends that they had a place to stay in London should they ever visit (provided it was after May 2012 as I would be away until then).

The following morning I packed my case once again. As I was getting ready to go meet Nacho for lunch I spotted something sticking out from under the insole of my shoe. I pulled it out. It was some Brazilian money. I had forgotten that I had put it there for emergency purposes while I was in Rio. I had been walking round with it in there for days. I knew that Nacho was headed to Rio later in the year so when we met up for lunch I gave it to him and told him to have a few drinks on me. Evening soon arrived and I said goodbye to Nacho and headed over to the airport. Pablo was working at the airport so I also got to say goodbye to him before heading for my overnight flight up to Mexico.

“I guess this is goodbye, old pal, you've been a perfect friend.” 
Lyrics from I guess this is goodbye from the musical Into the Woods

Gang, I think this is it!

It's a hit! Gang, I think this is it!

It's a hit!

A few early nights and quiet days had me feeling much better but it had thrown my plans out. It looked unlikely that I would get over to Uruguay. That would mean one stamp that I wouldn’t be getting in my passport. European travel is much less exciting now your passport doesn’t get stamped. I have no idea why but the people at immigration in the various countries I had been through had crammed all of the stamps into the last few pages of my passport, sometimes squeezing them on to a page that already had a couple of other stamps on it despite there being plenty of blank pages up front. None of them were particularly neat with their stamping either. I would not make a good immigration officer as I would have to make sure the stamp was level, the right way up and with an even margin from the edges of the page.

I met up with Nacho for lunch. He had suggested a place near his office called Fika but as I was walking down the street it was on he was coming up the other way. He told me that the place was full, mainly with his colleagues as it was right by his office. We headed to another place he suggested and had lunch there. He filled me in on the plans for the evening, going through the various options that we had for a Friday night out in BA. All of them involved drinking at one establishment or another and it sounded like it would be a late night.

I told Nacho that I would cook dinner for us as he had been so kind as to cook for me twice already. My walk after lunch took me via the supermarket and I had a good wander round the aisles picking out some things for dinner and checking out the local produce. I love walking round foreign supermarkets looking for products that have names that make me smile. Obviously the Spanish/Latin classic is Bimbo bread which never fails to put a smile on my face. We went through a phase at work where whenever one of us went away somewhere we would try and find the most inappropriately named sweets or snacks to bring back into the office. Sarah and I won the competition with a bag of mints we brought back from Budapest. I’m not going to repeat the name in polite company though.

Nacho arrived home later that evening and I cooked us some dinner. I had bought some chicken but it hadn’t defrosted so I told him I would cook that the following evening. We ate while watching a film. Nacho kindly played it with the English for me and put Spanish subtitles on. It was a good way for me to pick up a couple of new phrases although given the film was Source Code and about time-reassignment and exploding trains I think they would be of limited use.

Gang, I think this is it!

We headed out around 10:30pm, which I think is early by Argentinian standards. Our first destination was Club V in Palermo which was a mixed crowd. Nacho and I found ourselves a couple of seats and settled in. A waitress came over with a couple of drinks menus and started speaking in rapid Spanish. I didn’t catch a word of it. She finished what she was saying and looked at me. I looked at Nacho. He explained to me that there were a couple of specials on drinks that night and explained what they were. We ordered a couple of drinks and she went off to get our drinks. We were joined by Santiago and a friend of his, Natalia. I was enough of the way in to my first cocktail to chat in Spanish to Santiago (the person) about Santiago (the place). Pablo arrived a little while later. There was a promotion on at the bar by Bacardi and because we were drinking mojitos (homo-jitos?) we were given the chance to win some promotional tut by spinning a wheel. I ended up with a keyring which given I was effectively without my own door keys for the next 8 months was not the most useful prize. Pablo won a rather phallic looking wooden fruit muddler. Various rude suggestions were made after he took it out of the box to look at it.

From there we headed off to MOD Variete Club for a spot of dancing. Pablo was the designated driver and the five of us squeezed into his car. It was a good job that Natalia was so slim as it was cosy in the back seat. Pablo found what looked like a good parking space one street away from where we were going. He parked up and we all got out. As we did a man in fluorescent tabard approached the car. There was an exchange between the man and Pablo. The man was trying to charge Pablo to park on the street, despite the fact that it should be free. Not wanting to pay and not wanting anything to happen to his car Pablo got back in and drove off deciding to park elsewhere. Apparently it was quite common in Buenos Aires for people to try to charge for free parking in return for “looking after” your vehicle.

The club was busy with a very mixed crowd. Every third song seemed to be a Madonna song which I didn’t mind at all. We were joined by Dario, Leandro and Markitos. I got big hugs from them all and we chatted away in Spanglish. I had truly been made to feel part of the gang. They were all so friendly and welcoming that I felt I could settle in to Buenos Aires very easily if I decided to move here for a while.

As we danced away I noticed two guys next to us who kept looking over at our group. They were dancing with two girls. The crowd was mixed so I wasn’t sure if they were straight or not. A while later one of the girls came up to me and said to me what I guessed was the Spanish version of “My friend fancies you”. She gestured in the direction of the two boys she was with. It wasn’t clear which of the two fancied me but neither were really my type so I figured the best course of action was to feign ignorance. I gave her my best “Lo siento, no entiendo”. It seemed to work and she went back to her friends. Just after I explained to Pablo and Nacho what she had said the two boys came over and started to talk to them. They were extremely good friends and fended off the unwanted advances for me. We danced into the early hours and finally got a taxi back to Nacho’s.

“It's a hit! Gang, I think this is it!” 
Lyrics from It’s a Hit! from the musical Merrily We Roll Along

See you in a week or two

I will see you in a week or two, it’s late you’d better get going

I will see you in a week or two 

I was back in Buenos Aires after a week away. Both Pablo and Nacho had offered me a place to stay if I returned. I had loved the city and there was still much that I wanted to see so I took them up on their offer. I was hoping to make a couple of trips out of the city too to visit Lau & Marcelo, the guys I had met in Rio and get over to Uruguay for a day or two. I caught a taxi from the airport (and yes, I mean caught a taxi rather than the other thing) and headed for Nacho’s office. I had hit BA at evening rush hour and the progress was slow. Sat in traffic sandwiched between a lot of big lorries belching out exhaust fumes the Aires was not so Buenos. By the time the taxi made it to Nacho’s office he had finished work and was outside waiting. He jumped in the taxi and we carried on to his place.

He made us a coffee and we chatted about my week in Chile. I had practiced my Spanish a little and made more of an effort. Nacho said I had clearly improved but he may have just been being polite. I had brought a bottle of pisco back from Chile in order to use up the last of my pesos at the airport and gave it to Nacho. After the coffee we headed to the supermarket so that we could pick up some things for dinner and breakfast. Nacho cooked us dinner and we had a fairly quiet evening in. Despite the coffee I had earlier in the evening I was soon yawning & had an early night.  

The following morning I saw Nacho before he left for work. He gave me a couple of suggestions of things to do that day and I considered getting up and going for an early morning walk but the thought of going back to bed for a snooze was too tempting. I woke a couple of hours later, showered, had some toast and headed to the Puerto Madero area. It was one of the areas that the tourist bus had taken us through but I had not explored it. The docks had been redeveloped recently and tall glass buildings rose from around the water. It reminded me of Canary Wharf. I wandered around for a while as the day was sunny and warm. The centre of the docks is dominated by the Puente de la Mujer (Bridge of the Woman) which was crowded with a tour group. I sat and waited until they moved on and then got some photos. I tried to get a photo of Dean on the bridge and nearly lost him in the water, managing to catch him just in time. I knew I would be in big trouble if anything happened to Dean.

After a late lunch I made my way back down to Nacho’s for a siesta. For the first time on my trip I was feeling a little under the weather. I suppose it was bound to happen at some point given how non-stop my trip and travelling had been. Nacho got home from work early evening, the sound of his keys in the door waking me from my nap on the sofa. Nacho kindly cooked dinner again and I was soon in bed hoping an early night and a good night’s sleep would help stave off a full-blown man cold. The early night and a lazy morning seemed to help a little. I made my way to meet Nacho for some lunch down near Puerto Madero. He asked what I had done with my morning. I was able to answer in perfect Spanish – “Nada”.

It’s late you’d better get going

Puente de la Mujer

I had taken a couple of aspirin that morning to get rid of a headache but I found myself sneezing constantly. It felt more like an allergy sneeze than a cold sneeze so after lunch Nacho pointed me in the direction of a pharmacy that I would pass on my way back to his place. He headed back to work and I headed for the pharmacy. I found the pharmacy and walked around looking for what I needed. A woman in the shop came over to help me. I asked (in Spanish) if she spoke English. She didn’t. I tried to explain what I needed using my basic Spanish vocabulary. She nodded, walked off and returned with a small packet of tablets. I paid for them and headed out of the shop. Replaying in my head what I had asked for I hoped I had said I needed something for “allergia” which was allergy rather than “alegría” which was cheerfulness. If I had got it wrong I may well have ended up with some anti-depressants. I took the tablet when I got home. The sneezing stopped so I must have got it right.

A quiet afternoon followed and by evening I was feeling much better. I was ready for a night out on the town with Nacho and the gang. We made our way over to Dario’s place and had some dinner with Dario, Leandro and Markitos. I managed to follow a little more of the conversation this time and even joined in a couple of times. After dinner Dario showed us a new magic trick that he had been practicing. I asked Dario how he knew magic tricks. It turned out that he works as a clown, doing entertainment at parties.

After dinner we returned to Km Zero but only after I made sure that there would not be a drag queen performing as I didn’t want to be made to go up on stage like I had been the first time I had visited. They assured me I would be fine. There would be a drag queen on but only to introduce a famous Argentine actress/singer/dancer who was doing a special appearance. The star attraction was Carmen Barbieri. I had never heard of her. Clearly she was popular at least amongst the gays of BA as the place was virtually full. She sang a couple of songs and did a lot of talking although I have no idea what she was saying. From the reaction of the audience her stories were very amusing though.

Throughout the night a couple of people chatted to me, starting their conversations in English. It was obvious I was not a local. One of the guys asked me if I knew who Carmen was. I said that I didn’t and he looked shocked. I pointed out that she probably had no idea who I was either. I’m not sure the guy bought my argument. I guess my 80 Gays celebrity status was not yet high enough for me to say “Do you know who I am?”. Maybe one day…

“I will see you in a week or two, it’s late you’d better get going” 
Lyrics from Come back with the same look in your eyes from the musical Tell me on a Sunday

Walk on

Walk on, walk on, with hope in your heart

Walk on

During my research of the gay scene in Santiago I randomly stumbled across reviews for a walking tour that took in the sights of downtown Santiago, leaving each day from the Plaza de Armas at 10am and 2pm. The guides essentially worked for tips, the tour itself was free. I arrived in the Plaza de Armas at 9:45am and spotted the guide in his bright red jacket that said “Free Tour” in big white letters. He appeared to be alone (and cute). I waited a few minutes seeing if anyone else was going to turn up. At 9:50am I went over to him and said hello. He asked if I was here for the tour, I said I was. He introduced himself (Felipe) and we chatted for a while, he asked me where I was from and I told him, explaining I was on a year long round the world trip. I left out the 80 Gays part. My gaydar was a little off and I was having trouble working out whether or not he might be one of ours.

I thought that the tour might have been a very personal one but a couple of minutes before 10am a Brazilian couple joined us, followed shortly after by a woman from New Zealand. We set off on our tour. We covered some of the same places that I already seen on my own but this time I got some of the history. Felipe was a great tour guide, very enthusiastic and entertaining. He told us some great stories including how some of the local coffee shops used to/still do operate something called “Café con piernas” or “Coffee with legs”. Basically businessmen can go get a coffee at one of the places and be served by scantily clad women. Every so often the doors are locked and the blinds closed for a minute or two. Needless to say I didn’t get a coffee in one of those places so can’t say what happens when the blinds are closed. Felipe looked at the women in the group and said that there should be an equivalent coffee shop with scantily clad men for the women to go to. I tried not to nod in agreement.

Our tour took us past the Palacio de La Moneda, the seat of the President of Chile. There were guards in dress uniform outside the building. I had learned from the incident in the Casa Rosada museum and admired the guards whilst I was standing still so as to not walk into anything. I was too chicken to try and get a photo of them with Dean. Felipe lead us on through the financial district, amending our route slightly to avoid a rather large demonstration which was heading down the street towards us. We saw the Opera House, the damage from the earthquake of the previous year was still visible on some parts of the building. Having stopped for lunch and liquid refreshments our tour finally concluded over in the arty district of Santiago. Everyone thanked Felipe for the tour and I think he collected a decent tip from everyone in the group. He definitely deserved it.

Walk on

The tour had ended right near Cerro San Cristóbal, one of the highest points in the city. It was possible to walk up to the top of it but I opted for the funicular. I was joined by Sylvia, the lady from New Zealand who had been on the walking tour. The views from the top of San Cristóbal were stunning as was the open air church and amphitheatre, overlooked by a huge statue of Mary. By the time I had walked back to where I was staying I was shattered. I ate, and then slept, well.

The next day I took myself off out for a walk of some of the other places that we hadn’t covered on the previous days tour as well as finding my way to the gay neighbourhood. I had decided that I would go out and check out the scene that evening and wanted to see what it looked like in the day so I would know roughly where I was headed once night fell. I knew that Santiago would be like Buenos Aires and things wouldn’t get started until late so it was nearly 11pm by the time I headed out. Even though I left at a time when most places back home would be closing up for the night it was still fairly quiet in the first place I found, Bar 105. I had passed the place during my daytime recce but had assumed it had closed down as the outside was boarded up and there was graffiti across the walls. However, it was very much open.

With hope in your heart

The inside was infinitely nicer than the outside and could have easily passed for a little wine bar in Soho. I ordered a beer, opting for the local brew, Kunstmann. I was certain that that would pose a few pronunciation problems once I had had a few drinks. I found a seat at a table and people watched for a little while. I had done better than Rio, having actually made it inside the bar. I was still sober enough to know that I wasn’t going to be able to approach people. I suddenly felt 14 years younger, as though I had been transported back to the days when I was first going on the gay scene in Sheffield (which at the time consisted of two bars and one nightclub). I can still vividly remember the first time I ever went to The Cossack. I can remember what I had to drink, what I was wearing, who I talked to and loads of other small details about that night. I bet most gay people (at least of my generation) can remember that night. It is a big thing to finally do.

Bar 105

I had given myself two beers in which to talk to someone, or more accurately, in which to hope someone came to talk to me. As I got towards the bottom of my second beer the barmen asked if I wanted another. I had sat there on my own for a while so I decided I would call it a night. I must have stood out as a tourist and nobody seemed like they were going to talk to me. I asked for the bill. In between asking for it and it arriving a couple of guys finally came over to talk to me. They spoke in English, it was that obvious that I was not a local. The couple turned out to not be a couple, but friends, Juan & Alejandro. Just as we were chatting the barman brought my bill over. They told me I should stay for another drink so I did. The barman was very kind, taking my bill away and returning with a beer.

I stayed out for a while with my new friends. I spoke a little in Spanish but we mainly chatted in English. When it came time to leave they asked how I was getting home. I said that despite the fact that I was only staying a 10 minute walk away I would get a taxi to be safe. They waited outside the bar with me until a taxi with its light on appeared and we could flag it down. I thanked them and got into the taxi, asking the driver to take me back home. I think I chatted in Spanish for a little while with the taxi driver although I am not sure he understood what I was saying. I’m not entirely sure I understood what I was saying. However, I was proud of myself for having made it out alone on the gay scene in Santiago.

The remaining time before I left was finishing off a few tourist places I had yet to visit, such as the Museum of Fine Arts, which had some great collections despite a number of the rooms still being closed because of the earthquake. I had a few more walks around the city making the most of a sudden warm spell in the weather that meant I could walk round in shorts and the locals could not bother with a scarf and gloves. My final evening I enjoyed a home cooked dinner, packed my case while listening to the BBC radio and got myself ready to head back to Buenos Aires where I had been enchanted by the city and had been offered a couple of places to stay.

“Walk on, walk on, with hope in your heart” 
Lyrics from You’ll Never Walk Alone from the musical Carousel

It doesn't matter

If you're different and out of place, it doesn't matter

If you're different 

The flight from Buenos Aires to Santiago was randomly on Air Canada. I had a slight panic attack when I realised this wondering if I had inadvertently booked a flight via Ottawa or something stupid. It turned out however that they operated this direct shuttle service to connect with a Santiago to Toronto flight. I boarded and found my seat. I was sat next to a nun which was a little unsettling especially when she crossed herself as we started to taxi. I hoped that she didn’t know something from the guy upstairs that I didn’t know. At one point during the flight she sneezed. I wasn’t sure if you were supposed to say “Bless you” to a nun so I kept quiet.

As I got off the plane I realised that this was the first time I had arrived at a place without having checked the local exchange rate or the best way to get from the airport. I had meant to do it before I left but the late finish of Sunday Funday with my new BA friends meant it had slipped my mind. I saw a currency exchange kiosk and it had a board displaying the exchange rate for US dollars, Argentinian pesos and Brazilian reais. A bit of mental arithmetic and I had a rough idea of the exchange rate for pounds sterling. You got a lot of Chilean pesos to the pound. It felt strange asking the cash machine for 75,000 pesos but at least I knew roughly how much I was withdrawing.

Cerro Santa Lucia

I got hassled by lots of taxi drivers after leaving the airport but I turned them all down. Having a bit of basic Spanish helped. I found a quiet spot and managed to quickly check online to find out the safest way to get to the centre from the airport and how much it should cost so that I knew if I was being overcharged. I headed back over to the official desk and sorted out my taxi. After hitting downtown Santiago at rush hour I finally arrived at the apartments and checked in. It took a while for the guy behind the desk to locate my booking but I eventually got the keys and made my way up. The place was lovely. It had its own kitchen and lounge downstairs and a bedroom and bathroom upstairs. I had opted for the apartment rather than a hotel as I was in need of some space to chill, cook and catch up on some of my writing. There was a big supermarket next door to the apartment block so I headed there to stock up on some food for the week. I cooked myself some dinner and had an early night.

Out of place

Add caption

The first couple of days in Santiago were nice and relaxed. I made myself do a blog post each morning over breakfast before heading out to explore. I did my usual orientation walk round on the first morning. Santiago is massive but I had managed to get an apartment that was close to the centre. I had a walk round and found the tourist information place. I had checked out online where it was and drawn myself a rough map of how to get there as well as taking a photo of the internet page on my camera in case I needed to recheck the route. I got myself a map and a couple of leaflets chatting to the woman behind the desk in Spanish. I was definitely getting better. I went back to my walk and made my way to Cerro Santa Lucia.

Cerro Santa Lucia is basically a large rock close to the centre of the city that has been turned into a national park. I had to sign in at the gates to the park. As I was signing in two teenagers arrived. The guard turned them away because they weren’t with an adult. I liked the park already! The views from the top were great and worth the climb up some rather lethal looking stone steps. The Andes were covered with a thin veil of fog but could still be made out. It looked like the city ran right up to the mountains. It was a great spot to relax. After spending time walking round Cerro I went and saw the main sights in the centre – the Plaza de Armas, the cathedral and the old court building, which now housed the Museum of National History. The entrance fee was about 75 pence so I figured I might as well go in.  The descriptions were all in Spanish and I persevered for a while before giving up and going for a drink.

It doesn’t matter

Santiago Cathedral

I found a quiet spot and had a drink while I got my journal out and did a bit of writing before heading back to the apartment to type it up. On the way back to the apartment I found myself walking down a road that had a few strip clubs on it. Outside the clubs they had guys trying to get customers to go in. As I walked by one of them I was asked if I wanted to go in to see the ladies dancing. In my best Spanish accent I told the man who had asked me “No me gustan las mujeres”. Blunt, but effective.

After I got back to the apartment I spent time doing some admin, booking some of my travel for Mexico and sorting out some things for my return to the west coast of the States in just over a months time. Things were slowly falling in to place for the west coast and I was looking forward to it even more having found out that two of my really good friends, Sarah and Sara (they aren't lesbians),  were planning a trip and would be there at the same time as me. I was hoping that I would get to spend some time with them either in San Diego or Los Angeles (or both). It would be Sarah's birthday while she was over there too, another reason to celebrate. I also did some online research to try and find out a little bit about the gay scene in Santiago as I was determined to hit the bars one night and make up for the aborted attempt in Rio.

Museum of National History

I chatted for a while with Mother who had just got back from a holiday to Cyprus. She told me all about her trip and it was nice to speak to her having not done so for a while. We chatted about the upcoming trip to Mexico (my sister and Mother were flying out to join me for a week). I also chatted to my dear friend Gail (the friend who had helped me out with cash in Atlanta). She wanted to chat to me as she wanted to know when I was back in London so she could try and arrange the christening of her second lovely little boy. She wanted me to be godfather (fairy godmother) and I told her I would be delighted and honoured to be his godfather, already being godfather to her first son. The lengths some people will go to just to get into the 80 Gays blog...

“If you're different and out of place, it doesn't matter” 
Lyrics from Everybody Fits from the musical Altar Boyz

I'm going to be a part of B.A.

I'm gonna be a part of B.A., Buenos Aires, Big Apple

I’m going to be a part of B.A.

The phone in my room rang making me jump. It was the reception desk, letting me know that Nacho was downstairs waiting for me. I told them to let him know I was on my way down. After we had done hellos I managed to tell Nacho what I had done since I last saw him using my basic Spanish as we headed to the subway. “Necesito comprar un billete” I said, deciding I would try speaking a bit more Spanish than I had managed the other night. He told me it was fine and let me in through the gate using his card. We took the subway to Palermo, to the house of one of his friends, Ariel (no, not the Little Mermaid). We were joined there by another couple of people, Santiago and Luis. I was introduced to everyone and managed to explain that I was travelling for a year around the world. Trying to explain the concept of 80 Gays with my limited Spanish vocabulary was a little more tricky though.

Ariel and Nacho told Santiago he needed to practice his English so he asked me a few questions in English and I replied in Spanish, asking him some questions back in Spanish so he could answer in English. We covered the basics – we asked each other “What is your name?” moving on to ask for each others age and where we were from. The next question from Santiago threw me slightly although it was good to see he had learnt the important questions that any gay needs to know. He asked if I was top or bottom. I blushed and didn’t answer.

We got through a couple of big bottles of beer at Ariel’s before jumping into a couple of taxis to head to a bar called Sitges. On a Friday night there was a cover charge of 35 pesos and then once inside the drinks were free (although the gin was some brand that even I had never heard of). We made our way in and found the rest of the gang who were already there – Pablo, Dario, Leandro and Markitos. The place was fairly busy and there were a lot of people up dancing. The music being played was perfect for me, a good mix of pop and chart music in both English and Spanish. They even played a bit of Girls Aloud at one point. I think I was the only person singing along to Biology though. A few songs later a song came on that I had never heard before. Nacho asked me if I knew who was singing. I said I didn’t. He said it was Antonio Banderas and asked me if I knew who he was. I said that I did but over in England we knew him by his English name, Tony Flags. It was a great night out with my new friends and I got back to the hotel around 5am, meaning much of the next day was a write-off.

Buenos Aires

Nacho with Mafalda

I was back on form by Sunday and arranged to meet up with Nacho so that he could show me the San Telmo market. I made my way down to his place. It was sunny out so I walked down to his through a very quiet Buenos Aires. The city seemed very different without all the traffic and people on the streets. From Nacho’s place we headed over to San Telmo. The market runs along La Defensa for several blocks. Most of the shops along the street were closed but the occasional antique shop was open. Down both sides of the street were market stalls selling all kinds of handcrafted tut. It was a really nice atmosphere though and we wandered the entire length of the market. At one end was a small square where an elderly gentleman was teaching a young woman how to do a tango. We stood and watched for a while.

We made our way back through the market, stopping to get a photo of Nacho with the statue of Mafalda, an Argentinian cartoon character, before carrying on to the Galerias Pacifico shopping centre which is housed in a stunning old building. We grabbed a spot of lunch and afterwards headed upstairs where there was an art exhibition going on. We made our way back through the streets of Buenos Aires to my hotel where Nacho dropped me off. He told me he would see me later for dinner. There were a group of guys who got together every Sunday for dinner and a few drinks and I had been invited along.

Big Apple

After a siesta, shower and change I headed back down to San Telmo to a restaurant called Gran Parrilla del Plata. We were meeting at 10pm. I had stopped a couple of times on the walk down to take some photos of the buildings all lit up so arrived at around 10:10pm. Nacho, Markitos, Dario & Leandro were already there. I apologised for being late. The restaurant was large, they had two rooms both full of diners. It seemed to be the place to go. Over the next thirty minutes the rest of the group arrived and we finally got seated at a table around 10:45pm. I was asked if there was anything that I didn’t eat. I gave my usual response of “I will eat anything apart from kidneys” which had never raised any issues before. At Gran Parrilla however, they served kidneys as well as every other type of offal.

Dario took charge of ordering for the whole table which saved a lot of hassle and time. I said that I would give everything a try but that it was probably best to let me eat it first and then tell me what it was afterwards. Several bottles of red wine appeared and everyone raised their glasses. A couple of the gang even remembered my toast and said “First of the day”. It is always first of the day regardless of how many drinks have already been consumed. In return I said “Primer del dia”. I tried to explain the concept of Sunday Funday to the group but something got lost in translation.

The food arrived and plates were passed around. I sent my empty plate down the table and it came back with a selection of meat on it. I helped myself to some salad and fries. It reminded me a little of being back at junior school where two people on the table would be in charge of dishing up and people would be passed a plate of food. I tucked in, trying not to look too closely at the food on the plate and concentrate on the taste. Everything tasted amazing. I’m not sure what exactly I had for dinner but apart from the steak and chicken I think I probably had some chitterlings and sweetbreads. I could see why the place was so popular though, it was all so delicious.

The gang at Gran Parrilla

Dinner was rounded off with a glass of bubbly and another toast. I really had been accepted into the group. We got a few photos of the gang, settled the bill and then headed outside. There was a discussion as to what the plan for the rest of the evening should be (even though it was gone midnight). From the bits of the conversation I could understand the options seemed to either be going for ice cream at a place nearby or heading over to Pablo’s for a few drinks. The ice cream place was closed so we headed to Pablo’s. A couple of the gang who had to work the next morning headed home, the rest of us carried on drinking for a while.

We had a few drinks at Pablo’s while sitting round his dining table chatting. I tried my best to chat to one of the guys, Emanuel, but his level of English was about the same as my level of Spanish so the conversation was rather stilted. It probably didn’t help that we had both had a few drinks (although I was definitely not as drunk as he was).  As the evening drew to a close both Pablo and Nacho told me that I had a place to stay in BA should I return. I thanked them both and told them that I would probably take them up on the offer as I had really enjoyed the time I had spent in BA. I got a taxi back to the hotel in the early hours of the morning and then grabbed some sleep before an early start the next morning.

I was up and awake early to pack my case. I grabbed a quick breakfast and some strong coffee to wake me up and checked out of the hotel. Pablo had told me about a minibus service that ran to the airport and would be a lot cheaper than getting a taxi. It hadn't shown up on any of the searches I had tried. I made my way to the place the minibus went from, bought my ticket (20 pesos for me, 20 pesos for my suitcase) and boarded. The journey to the airport was stress free and I checked in for my flight to Santiago.

“I'm gonna be a part of B.A., Buenos Aires, Big Apple” 
Lyrics from Eva and Magaldi / Eva Beware of the City from the musical Evita

Stop and stare

People stop and stare, they don't bother me

People stop and stare

The previous night out at the gay bar where I had my encounter with the drag queen had been a late one. We had left around 2:30am. Pablo had given me a lift back to the hotel so I didn’t have to worry about saying I was going to catch a taxi. I had a bit of a late morning and missed breakfast. Once I was up and showered I had a wander out and found a little coffee shop where I could get some caffeine to kick start the day. I made my way back down to the Casa Rosada and found the entrance to the museum. The place was quiet with only a handful of other visitors wandering around. It covered the history of the presidents of Argentina. Everything was in Spanish but I did my best to read the information, picking out the words I knew and making a guess at the ones in between.

As I walked around looking at the exhibits I noticed a couple of guards in full military uniform. They were some distance away and I tried to sneak a couple of photos. As I got a bit closer I saw that one of them looked quite hot. I was that busy checking him out that I didn’t spot the roped off exhibit and I walked straight into the cordon, knocking down one of the poles with a loud bang that echoed around the cavernous hall of the museum. A couple of people turned to look at me. I blushed, picked up the pole and hurried into one of the small side rooms. I waited a while until my cheeks didn’t feel like they were burning, made my way back in to the main hall and out of the museum.

From there I walked over to Puerto Madero, one of the fastest growing parts of the city. There were a lot of tall, modern buildings and it reminded me a little of Canary Wharf. The sun reflected off the buildings and it had warmed up enough for me to take off the thin jacket I had on over my t-shirt. The locals who were walking by seemed to be in their winter coats, scarves and hats. I had tourist written all over me. I stopped off for a late lunch at a café and ordered in Spanish without any mishaps. My food arrived and it was exactly what I had ordered.

As the afternoon turned into evening I headed back to the hotel. I filled in my journal. I couldn’t believe that I had been travelling for three months already. In those three months I had already visited 19 cities and stayed with 20 gays. My OCD side liked that a quarter of the way through my year long trip I had stayed with a quarter of my 80 gays.

The next morning I had a late breakfast and then made my way to Florida where the open top tourist bus started its tour. I had often seen the London version but had never done it. I figured now I was a tourist I could do the tourist things. I opted for the 24 hour ticket rather than the 48 hour ticket figuring that would be plenty long enough. The sun was shining so I made my way upstairs having boarded the bus and been given a pair of headphones for the commentary. The bus took us through the major places in BA and I would recommend it to any first time visitor as a good way of getting to see a lot of the city. It was a hop-on, hop-off service but I was quite comfortable for a while, taking in the views from the top deck. Even without hopping on or off the route took over three hours to complete and it was late afternoon by the time I arrived back at Florida. I had made a note of a couple of places where I hadn’t hopped off that I wanted to visit. On the way back to the hotel I called in at a supermarket to get myself something for dinner and a couple of beers.

They don't bother me

The next morning I checked my list of places that I wanted to go and visit over breakfast. I got the map out and worked out the best route to take. I decided I would head to the Botanical Gardens first and that I should be ok to take the subway. I set off and found the subway station. The subway was fine, quick, easy to use and not too scary. There were people busking and some random young guy trying to sell pencils by putting them in everyone’s laps. Apart from the pencil guy it was like being on the tube in London. They even had bored looking commuters. I declined on the pencil front. Having got to the station I needed I made my way out on to the street and headed for the gardens. The gardens themselves were nice. A lot smaller than the one in Rio but still a nice spot to spend an hour or so. I spent a while there before going for lunch and then carrying on my personal walking tour.

After lunch I needed a bit of Evita so I made my way along Avenida Del Libertador taking in the statue to her before making my way towards the area of the Recoleta Cemetery. On the way there I decided to check I was headed in the right direction, not confident of my map reading skills. I spotted a policeman so approached him. I started the question in Spanish “¿dónde está el Cemen…” at which point I had to stop to sneeze. He looked a little surprised, understandably as it sound like I had just asked him “Where is the semen?”. After the sneeze was over I started the sentence again. ““¿dónde está el Cementario de Recoleta?”. He looked relieved and pointed me in the right direction.

I found the cemetery and made my way in. It was like nothing I had seen before, almost like a scaled down village with “streets” leading off from the main path Some you could see in to. Most were ornate, a few were looking a little neglected but it was clear to see that some were very well maintained. The place was eerily silent despite a steady stream of people walking around. I made my way to the Duarte family tomb where Evita was buried. I spent a while wandering around, exploring the narrow paths between the tombs before heading back to the hotel. I showered and changed and got ready for a Friday night out in Buenos Aires. I just hoped that there would be no drag queens to get me up on stage tonight.

“People stop and stare, they don't bother me” 

Lyrics from On the street where you live from the musical My Fair Lady