The first five months I was in Chile I had this feeling. The feeling that if I visited Buenos Aires, Argentina's capital city, I would love it so much that it would make me regret that I hadn't chosen it as my South American home for the year. Part of it had to do with the rave reviews of the city that I got from every person who had ever visited or lived there. But the other part was just this premonition. I had the same feeling about London when I was studying in Sevilla. I just knew that I was going to love it. And, sure enough, when I visited my friend studying abroad in London I felt this unexplainable attraction to and at home-ness in the city--it was without a doubt my favorite place I had ever visited and I didn't want to leave.
But after this weekend in B.A., London has been replaced.
Immediately, from our first cab ride from the airport to the apartment we had rented, I was enchanted. I had forgotten how much beautiful architecture can affect the atmosphere or feel of a city. On every corner, beautiful European style buildings lent a classy, sophisticated, almost regal air to the city streets. I had been told by some that Buenos Aires is more "concrete jungle" than Santiago, but I didn't have that sense at all. There were parks all over the place, and the wide boulevards (their principal street, Avenida 9 de Julio, is claimed to be the widest in the world) prevented the suffocating feeling of say, New York.
Whereas I sometimes struggle to describe Chilean cuisine (as do Chileans whom I ask about this), in Buenos Aires it's all about the parilla--grilled meats. And they are insane. I'm not really a big red meat eater, but these steaks are out of this world. And the cherry on top of the culinary sundae for me is their outstanding pizza--grilled on hot stones and with a crispy thin crust, just how I like it.
Arguably my favorite part about the city, and what I think is most representative of the gulf between Santiago and B.A. is the fashion. As I have lamented in previous posts, for me, Santiago has nothing to offer as far as clothing and style goes. Not only are there very few options to buy fashionable, interesting pieces, but you don't see people walking around in covetable outfits...ever. The opposite in Buenos Aires. My friend Caren and I spent an entire day shopping around the boutiques of Palermo, and we had only just scratched the surface. And all of them filled with unique, incredibly well made, just gorgeous clothes. And I can't even start on the fashionistas that we saw on every corner, of every section of town, at every hour of the day. Add their great sense of style (both men and women) to their natural gorgeousness, and porteños are absolutely lethal in the looks department. And that's before they open their mouths and start laying on the charm with their irrestible breed of Spanish.
Obviously, language-obsessed as I have become since my arrival in Chile, I would have a strong opinion one way or another about Argentinian Spanish. I can't get enough of it. I love the way that they use vos instead of "tu." I secretly hoped that they'd have to use llegar or silla or any other ll word, the sound of which they prounounce like the s in "pleasure." And their intonation, which to me was reminiscent of the sing-songiness of Italian, made anyone and everyone's speech literally, music to my ears.
Perhaps it's been said before, but Buenos Aires, for me, combined the beauty and style of Paris, with the palpable energy of New York (just find yourself at one of their boliches, or dance clubs, at 6 AM and you'll know what I'm talking about), with a fiery Latin American flair. By the time I had been there for 4 hours, I was already telling everyone we met that I'd live in Buenos Aires one day. Unashamedly proud of their city, and in love with it as I was, they readily agreed that I should. But for now it's back in Santiago, which, as great as it is, unfortunately has suffered a great blow in my mind from it's cross-Andean neighbor.
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