Buenos Aires For 91 Days

For 91 Days we lived in Buenos Aires, one of the world’s great metropolises. Home to tango, amazing steaks and European architecture, three months weren’t nearly enough time to discover everything that Argentina’s capital has to offer. But we did our best, sampling pizza, ice cream, museums and even a few of the bars where Borges wrote his poetry. Start reading from the beginning of our Argentine adventure, visit the comprehensive index, or check out a few posts selected at random, below:

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Towards the end of our time in Buenos Aires, with too many great restaurants left to visit, we went on a binge. Parrillas, pizzerías, cafés, morning, noon and night. “Jürgen”, I said during our last meal, pork grease dripping repulsively off my chin. “This is getting disgusting. Tomorrow, let’s heat something healthy.” Abuela Pan, your time had come.

We arrived in Buenos Aires in the late summer, and as the season changed into fall, have seen some spectacular weather. The city is all cement and humanity, but the earth and skies never let you forget who’s really in control.

I’m not sure why a restaurant would want to call itself The Office: a word with horrendous connotations for most of humanity. When we lived in Valencia, Spain, there were two: The Office and La Oficina. And both were great! Almost as though they were trying extra-hard to prove that offices don’t have to suck. Buenos Aires’ The Office, in Palermo, adheres to that trend.



South America’s second-longest river, the Paraná, begins in Brazil and flows south, etching out the border between Paraguay and Argentina. Before emptying into the Rio de la Plata, the river extends into a flood plain which reaches 200 miles in length and nearly 40 miles in width. The city of Tigre, with a population of 30,000, is found near the delta’s end.

A grimy destitute man enters the bar and begins to approach tables, selling that homeless-person newspaper. Due to both habit and a hardness of heart from years spent living in cities, I wave him off before he even begins his pitch, keeping my eyes firmly locked on my book. But as he moves throughout the restaurant, I notice something startling. Most of the other people are purchasing a copy, and even engaging him in conversation.

Buenos Aires’ oldest and most famous coffee shop is Café Tortoni, just a few blocks west of the Plaza de Mayo. A gorgeous space which has been serving porteños since 1858, the café is usually toward the top of everyone’s “must-see” list. For good reason.