Jet lag and Cranky: In Search of Carne de Argentina

February 3, 2012 First full Day

The city of Buenos Aries is quite large in comparison to the other cities we have visited thus far. It has different sectors or barrios (neighborhoods), and because of this, it is easy to pick out the areas that are of interest and fully enjoy what the city has to offer in a very organized manner.  So to get a complete look around, we started by hopping on the tourista bus that circles all the neighborhoods. By plugging in a headset, you tune it into the language of choice and get information about the sites and points of interest that you are near.  Between narrations, there is some kitschy tango music that plays in the background.  We opted for the top of the double decker bus where the view was best and the air was circulating fairly well without any windows.   It is quite hot and humid here, and we were still recovering from several nights without sleep.  So for us, getting on and off the bus, more than once, was not in the cards.  However, sitting on the bus and listening to not so authentic tango music that repeats over and over the same tune didn’t take long to become annoying.  But everything was fine for the first hour or so. We saw many monuments, beautiful buildings, and large parks that were often inhabited by the homeless who had set up camp, complete with laundry drying on the monuments.  

After about 2 hours (out of the 3 that it takes to complete the 20 stops on the route) my sciatic nerve running down my right leg was yelling (no, screaming really), irritated, no doubt, from two overnight flights in a row!  It was getting hot, and I was ready to jump overboard!!  I had foolishly let my tolerance to the situation go beyond what I should have.  I overestimated my ability to (as Michael says) “Suck it up” until the end.  So at the next stop I abruptly stood up and suggested (no, demanded) that it was time to leave!!  We got off even though there really was nothing of interest in that particular area.  I hoped walking would help my pain problem, and perhaps we could find something to eat and drink as it was way past time for lunch! 

The two things we were told not to miss were seeing a live tango show, and to have red meat whenever possible, as “Argentina has the best meat in the world.”  This seemed like the perfect time to test that premise.  We dropped into the closest, most inviting establishment we could find.  It had a cute bar, white cloth napkins and plenty of customers in various stages of service.  Many were reading newspapers or books they had brought or were sipping wine and engaged in conversation.  Realizing that there was cold white wine, beer, sodas and parrilla (Argentine beef) on the menu, we decided to stay.  Because the seats were not padded, I decided to stand for a while to settle my sciatic nerve.  In an effort not to look too foolish, I stood over Michael’s shoulder to read the menu.   Since it was in Spanish, it took a while, and the screaming nerve began to settle down. 

Soon enough the waitress took our order, which consisted of a fresh Greek salad and steak.  Michael made a point to go up to the waitress (who had left our table) and impressed upon her our desire to have the meat rojo, or rare.   He said it in Spanish and English just for emphasis.  She nodded her head and soon brought us some fresh rolls, cold white wine, and for Michael, a soda.  An hour later, as I stretched the sips of wine down to a few drops, and the Pepsi had lost most of its fizz, we inquired about our meal that hadn’t arrived.  Not quite understanding the waitress’s answer, but guessing that it would take a bit longer, we requested that the salad be served while we waited for the meat to arrive.  We slowly enjoyed the salad during which time we joked back and forth about possible reasons that the meat was taking so long.  It had to be marinated, they had to kill the cow, they broke the grill, the chief quit, and so forth. 

But eventually we no longer found the Latin time schedule funny, my sciatic nerve began to yell again, and my wine glass was empty.  Ordering another glass of wine would have just made me tipsy in my sleep deprived state. Finally the steak did arrive, but it was well done!  It was so well done that it was difficult to cut and was tasteless. So with some prodding by me, Michael sent the meat back, only to be told that it would be another half an hour to produce another one.  I don’t know how the Argentines grill rare steak, but at my house it only takes about four minutes a side!!  Because I was not able to sit any longer, we paid the bill, minus the over-cooked steak, and departed!  We are still on a quest for the “best steak ever” that is only found in Argentina!!  Oh, and still no tango lessons!!  But hopefully that will happen very, very soon! Tomorrow we will try the local empanadas.  We hear the Argentines make the best empanadas ever!!