Another Man's Treasure

This weekend we made two separate trips to San Telmo. Located just a few blocks south of the Casa Rosada (pictured below), the barrio is well stocked with cafes, tango bars, cobblestone streets, etc. Immediately following the first game of the World Series (“Los Cardinales! Asombroso!”), we headed down to attend a birthday party for the roommate of one of Emily’s classmates. Most of those in attendance were Americans, but we did talk to one guy from Mexico City who came to Buenos Aires to study cooking. He considers the trip somewhat of a bust because of the lack of picante in Argentine cuisine, and we all spent awhile lamenting about how salt and beef can only get you so far, and how we all could have really gone for a taco. We met some other people too, including a too-drunk guy who spent an hour analyzing the mid-term elections back home––everything from marquee Senate seats to obscure state Attorney General races. I think it was while railing against Lincoln Chaffee that he started gesturing too wildly, and spilled half a bottle of wine all over the floor. Soon afterwards we left.

But we came back only a few hours later. Every Sunday San Telmo plays host to an antiques fair in the small Plaza Dorrego. There’s lots of tangoing for tourists and booths selling everything from colorful old gramophones to crudely painted Che portraits and mate cups fashioned from animal hooves. We ate churipan (take a Chicago brat, cut it in half, stick it between like half a loaf of bread and you’re in the neighborhood) and drank orange juice (stay tuned for a future post about Argentina’s love for orange juice). We also picked up a poster-sized guide to cuts of beef and ogled antique maps that were way too expensive for us to buy. All in all, a fine day. -NSH