Don’t Cry for My Big Toe, Argentina

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On our last full day in Buenos Aires, we took a short trip to the town of Tigres, a river delta region where a number of tributaries flow into the massive Rio de la Plata. We hopped on a rather large tour boat and spent an hour getting a peak at all the islands and waterways that are only accessible by boat and understandably, a top vacation spot for Porteños. The water is colored brown by silt and quite rough at times, but is teaming with other boaters, kayakers, wake-boarders, and swimmers. We wished we were on our own boat so we could explore all the waterways that snaked back into the trees.

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Here is a shot of our partners-in-crime, Alla and Yohann. We met them in our hotel lobby and fast became friends when fate brought us together for a night out at a milonga. After our long day spent with them and another pair from Vancouver, we met for a tango lesson at La Viruta, a large dance hall in the Armenian Cultural Center. It was a wild night with a whirlwind lesson completely in Spanish and a foot injury that sadly ended our dancing for the evening. After the lesson, the dj switched back and forth between a set of tango music and a set of salsa music. It was impressive to watch the locals get down to both with ease. While some were newbies to tango, they would transform into salsa studs as soon as the triple-pulse beat dropped.

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With a few hours to kill before our trip to the airport, we headed back to the Recoleta Cemetery for one last adventure. Conveniently, the “Super TC2000” car race was taking place nearby on the main drag, La Libertador. It was thrilling to see and hear the cars whiz by the sea of spectators. By the time we got to the cemetery, the sun was shining bright and we took about another thousand photos in this surprisingly un-creepy place.

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Here is a one of the cemetery strays out for a casual stroll.

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Alas, our final look at our home-away-from-home, The Poetry Building. We were sad to say goodbye. The staff became our friends, the location was at the heart of everything, and the lobby was the perfect place to hold impromptu tango parties with our fellow hotel mates.

But all good things must come to an end. After 16 hours on planes and another jet-lagged weekend, we begin our first official “cleanse” together to recover from the week of steak, medialunas and double cream coffees.

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