Tag Archives: Buenos Aires

obelisco subte buenos aires argentina
Argentina, Travel

Buenos Aires | Day 2

Buenos Aires: Surviving Day 2

Last night, I ended up passing out 9pm, the first of my 5 roommates to fall asleep.  When I woke up, everyone was already gone from the room. I checked the time and I had slept until 10:30 this morning! Apparently, it was much needed. After shamelessly sleeping for more than 12 hours, I finally got dressed, grabbed a map, some cash and my camera and headed out to venture into the streets of Buenos Aires. I walked up Avenida  9 de Julio, one of the main roads in downtown Buenos Aires, parallel to the waterfront and leading up to the Obelisco de Buenos Aires, a national monument. A few protests appeared here and there but they were calm.  Further to the right of the Obelisk were several pedestrian streets full of little shops and restaurants that I perused but felt reluctant to spend. The only thing I bought was a 4 peso empanada con queso y cebollas (cheese and onions). Everything is so ridiculously cheap here.

I went to look at an apartment in another neighborhood and on the way back, decided to brave the subway (it was either this or walk 20-something blocks back to my hostel) and it only cost me 1.10 peso, which is roughly .33 cents? Fabulous. The subway system is nothing to fear, it’s well-labeled and easily understood. Mind your claustrophobia during peak hours. It’s literally time to pack like sardines but otherwise, it’s harmless and enjoyable if people-watching is your hobby. One key observation about Porteños y Porteñas (Argentines, specifically those living in Buenos Aires) is that they are very stylish, very fashionable and very good-looking. The women are beautiful and the men are really handsome (or at least so they say, not that I’ve been looking, Kip).  I have never seen so many cute boots, scarves and coats in one city. Everyone is just so well dressed, men, women, young and elderly alike. It’s the tourists that dress poorly in comparison. Then for the rest of the night I hung out with a few Brits and Irish people and exchanged a few S. American travel stories – some disturbing, some funny but all in all, I remember why I love hostels so much: you get to meet the most incredibly interesting people!

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hostel arrabal buenos aires argentina balcony view
Argentina, Travel

Moving to Buenos Aires | Day 1: Hostel Arrabal

Moving to Buenos Aires: Arriving at Hostel Arrabal

(Photo of the view from my hostel balcony)

I’m here. I can’t believe I’m here. After what felt like an eternity of airports, layovers and stale, recycled airplane oxygen, I somehow made it without a hitch and can relax at the hostel. So let’s sum up the last 72 hours, shall we:

I get back to SF after a month in Oceanside, have 2 days to pack up the apartment while simultaneously packing for a year’s worth of belongings in Argentina, Kip drops me off at SFO International Airport, we say our goodbyes and I’m suddenly thrown into a wave of pseudo-anxiety attacks at the realization of my vulnerability as a lone female traveler for the next two weeks. 8 hours pass on the plane to Lima, another 8 hour layover in Lima between midnight and 8am, where sleep never came, and then a 4-hour flight to beautiful Buenos Aires! Both legs of my flights were blessed with the absence aisle mates, giving me ample room to sprawl and commandeer seats, whilst watching a grand total of 5 of the many choice movies offered by LAN. Again, sleep deprivation wins.

As we begin to descend into Buenos Aires, I catch a glimpse of the acres and miles of plotted landscape with small clusters of civilization blotting the terrain. It’s calming, somehow.  The area outside of the Ministro Pistarini International Airport is reminiscent of a drive I once took with my parents in Vancouver, flat lands with bare-leafed trees. It’s a beautiful winter-esque sight. It is a bit chilly here since it’s in the winter season but very comparable to SF weather, so I’m not too worried about what I packed.

After thinking they’ve lost one of my bags and having to hunt it down at another carousel before feeling like I might burst into tears, I found my shuttle driver from the hostel waiting patiently for me outside the terminal. He didn’t speak English so it was a pleasant 40-minute drive to the hostel where my high school Spanish was pushed to its limits but got me roughly through basic conversation. Right off the bat, it was already evident that I’d have difficulty with Argentine Spanish. It’s rapid-fire but sounds melodically similar to Italian. And finally, here I am, Hostel Arrabal in the San Telmo neighborhood, a more European feel with its cobble-stoned streets and architecture. It’s one of the nicer hostels I’ve stayed in and has a full kitchen so I went to a corner market a couple blocks away to buy some food to cook here for the next couple days. I’m greasy from traveling and am ready for a shower and some much needed sleep!

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