You can ALWAYS be too careful

Our last day in Buenos Aires.

Jo: “I wanna go see the La Boca neighbourhood.”

Me: “Ok…. Wikitravel says that it’s a poorer part of Buenos Aires and Lonely Planet says that travellers should be careful even when you’re walking about in daylight. EEeee… thorntree forum says got mugging one le. What’s there to see at La Boca again?”

Jo: “Colorful buildings”

Me: “Hell no!”

I hate to admit it, but between the two of us, Jo is the more gungho traveller. She’ll charge on to see new things, while I’m the one who’ll check all the guidebooks/websites, weigh all the pros and cons before deciding if I want to go to any of these so-called attractions.

This attitude extends to other aspects of our travelling style, including the way we pack our valuables when we go for day trips around town.

Jo saunters around town with her phone in one pocket and everything else in a sling bag that she clutches in front of her chest.

I have…

a) A pocket of loose change
b) A different pocket for bigger notes
c) A dummy “mugging” wallet
d) My handphone
e) A money belt with my passport and even bigger notes
f) A backpack with all our valuable electronics.
g) An external waist pouch with my ready use ATM card, keys and other loose items.

In other words, on a typical day about town, I look like Batman… if instead of having a kickass utility belt, Batman has bulging pockets for his knickknacks.

Somehow, in spite of Jo’s sulking, I managed to convince her to go to town for a tour of Teatro Colón (Buenos Aires’ main opera house) instead of La Boca. As usual, we decided to take a subway at San Juan station that was near our hostel.

As we got onto our train carriage, two VERY burly men and two frail-looking old aunties with very big coats squeezed onto the train with us. They forced themselves between me and Jo and essentially sandwiched me between the four of them.

We knew that something was up because the rest of the train carriage was empty and they seemed hell bent on separating the two of us. We were also sort of clued in when we saw the other passengers (even the sleeping ones) IMMEDIATELY putting their heads together and whispering amongst themselves,while pointing in our general direction.

(Of course) We shouted to each other to watch our belongings and started clutching our things close to us. Coincidentally, that was also the instant when I had the epiphany that splitting my eggs into so many baskets was not the brilliantest idea I’d ever had. I’m surprised I haven’t been hauled into a police station for running my hands up and down my body in public while trying to push away two old ladies.

Two minutes and one train stop later, the gang of four forced their way out of the train and gave me a push back into the carriage for good measure.

As we stood shellshocked in the carriage, I started to assess our damages. Sure enough, my “dummy” wallet was gone. My external pouch and backpack had also been unzipped, the cash inside them was gone (though they kindly left my ATM/credit card unmolested). Most amazingly, they managed to get my phone which I had been clutching on to for dear life. There was only an instant when they were barging out of the train that they managed to brush my hand off my pocket for (what seems to me like) a fraction of a second (These guys were pros).

Jo, on the other hand, lost a grand total of nothing.

Careless Jo: 1
Ultra careful TW: 0

Silver lining is that except for my ego, we were both unhurt, but instead of Teatro Colón or La Boca, we ended up spending our last day in Buenos Aires being bounced between two police stations and sitting for five hours in the waiting room waiting (of course) for a (drunk) English translator so that we could file our report.

Expectamus Dominum

At the risk of sounding like an eyeliner-wearing emo goth girl, I’ll come right out and say it: My favourite place in Buenos Aires is a Cemetery…

But then again, La Recoleta Cemetery is unlike any other cemeteries that we’ve ever been to.

Situated in the heart of the rather posh Recoleta neighbourhood, the cemetery houses the remains of some of the most (in)famous personalities in Argentine history.

Add to that the elaborate marble mausoleums and the MANY exquisite works of famous sculptors, I personally think that La Recoleta Cemetery is a good place to while away a good afternoon (or in our case, two) for anyone stopping by Buenos Aires.

The gorgeous crypts divide the cemetery into numerous corridors… in death as it is in life… it’s like the “houses” are divided into neighbourhoods within the necropolis

Some of these corridors are long… and rather dark. You lose a bit of your sense of space and can feel really isolated wandering through these corridors by yourself

With the sculpted faces of angels/demons/departed in various stages of disrepair staring down from all around you…

Not to mention very few of the coffins are interred underground (many coffins can be seen through glass windows/tomb’s doors)…

I suppose we should feel spooked, but instead we felt a weird serenity and calmness walking through the cemetery.

I’ve mentioned that in order to make La Recoleta Cemetery their final resting place, the deceased need to be part of the Who’s Who of Argentine history (and since land here is not cheap, they also need to have a LOT of money). That’s why in a such a (relatively) small space, we were able to find the crypts of Presidents and Revolutionaries, Nobel Prize Winners and Athletes, Writers and Madmen. Interestingly, this also means that bitter enemies might be placed next to one another and the assassinated might be laid to rest directly opposite the guy who ordered the hit.

With so many colorful personalities within, the best part about La Recoleta is definitely the stories. I think one of the reasons we enjoyed the place so much was because we managed to get ourselves on the free tour provided by the custodians of the cemetery.

We were guided through the history/mythologies and superstitions of the Argentine people in the 1.5 hours tour, using the tombs of her most famous citizens as a window into their lives.

(Insider tip: Free English tours of La Recoleta Cemetery are conducted at 1100am on Tuesdays and Thursdays)

Two of my “favourite” stories have to be the ones about Liliana Crociati de Szaszak and Rufina Cambaceres.

Liliana Crociati de Szaszak was the daughter of celebrity hairdresser Joseph Crociati.

Liliana was killed in an avalanche during her honeymoon in Innsbruck, Austria. Liliana’s father commissioned a life sized bronze statue to be made of his daughter in her wedding dress (complete with wedding ring and rosary) and wrote a beautiful poem to adorn the crypt. The local legend was that her faithful dog, Sabú fell dead the exact moment she did. (Maria, our guide has since debunked that as myth. The statue of Sabú was added a few years after, when it died of natural causes).

The locals believe that rubbing Sabú’s nose brings good luck. And in a move that would make any 4D buying Singaporean’s heart swell with joy, the nose is now significantly shinier than the other parts of the statue.

Rufina Cambaceres – Knocking on Heaven’s Door… maybe?

Rufina Cambaceres is the cemetery’s resident Lady in White.

She collapsed on her 19th birthday and fell into a deep faint. All efforts to resuscitate her failed, and eventually three different physicians declared her dead. Since she was the daughter of famous Argentine writer Eugene Cambaceres, she was placed in the Cambaceres family crypt.

A few days after her final rites, visitors and caretakers within La Recoleta started hearing strange noises coming from the Cambaceres crypt. The family was informed and fearing that grave diggers might be trying to get at the jewelry Rufina was buried with, they decided to open up the crypt.

Inside the crypt, they noticed that the coffin had been shifted. Opening the coffin, they found fingernail lines scratched across the inside of the coffin and on Rufina’s face.

The family maintained that it was the work of robbers and vandals who harbour a grudge against the family, but the more common belief is that Rufina was buried alive. Rufina probably suffered from catalepsy. At some point after her “funeral”, she awoke to find herself trapped in the coffin. In her fear and desperation, she tried to get the attention of the people outside her crypt and/or scratch her way out of the her prison. Failing at both, she “died” a second time.

A new statue was made of her to be placed outside her tomb. Some believe that the rendering of a beautiful (and almost sad) Rufina standing in front of a door is a nod to the real cause of her death. Locals claim that she still roams the “streets” of La Recoleta Cemetery on moonless nights.

And then there are the “other” residents in the Cemetery.

A cat and his pet statue

La Recoleta Cemetery is home to 80++ (VERY FAT) cats. Cats are seldom seen in other parts of Buenos Aires, but for some reason, they all congregate within the cemetery. The locals believe that the cats are drawn to the spirit of the dead. A more sensible opinion is that they are attracted by the local ladies who would religiously feed them twice a day.

Next up: Recoleta’s most famous resident. Sharing Lot 88 with five of her family members, one Eva Duarte.

Air and Sunshine

Ever since I’ve stopped working, Jo and I (actually more Jo) would normally wake up to have brunch at about 11am. This late brunch throws our day off sync because we would have an afternoon snack around 3pm and then dinner at 8pm followed by supper at about 1am.

My parents, on the other hand, follow a strict regimen of having breakfast at 7 in the morning, lunch at 1pm and dinner at 6pm.

So you can see, our meal times NEVER overlap. This can only mean one thing: my parents are convinced that Jo and I survive on a weird diet of air and sunshine.

So far, our meal timings have worked brilliantly on our travels. We go in later than the normal mealtime crowd, so we never really have to wait in line and we always have a table.

And then along comes Argentina.

The Argentinians have a practice that I would have appreciated the hell out of, back when I was working. Even in the big city of Buenos Aires, they have a siesta period from 1pm to 5pm.

The rationale for the siesta is to allow the working crowd to take some time off in the middle of the day to attend to personal matters. This could mean anything from a catnap to self enrichment classes to bringing the kids from school to just chilling in the parks.

So, while in Argentina, do as the Argentinians do right?

We spent A LOT of time in parks during our time in Buenos Aires. I’m pretty sure that 89.3% of Buenos Aires is composed of parks.

It does help that they really have some really gorgeous parks with gentle hills that are just begging us to lie down or even roll down from.

It does help that the parks are filled with totally unshy dogs who would amble up to us to get free hugs/pats

And of course, there are also BA’s famous dog walkers who are each walking at least 10 dogs…

Speaking of dogs in parks… there’s this statue we saw in one of the parks that we just cannot make any sense of…

The downside of the siesta? The working crowd have to go back to work till 9pm at night after the “break”. Accordingly, the shops and restaurants adjusted THEIR siesta hours to match that of the working crowd’s. Most shops/restaurants are closed from 4pm to 9pm to serve the working crowd. Who gives a shit about tourists anyway, right?

Re: Our meal time. A GIANT monkey wrench.

We were constantly hungry during our first two days in Buenos Aires.

We’d show up expectantly at restaurants only to find that it is “Cerrado”ed.

I realize from my experience that this can only mean one thing. Argentinians survive on a diet of sunshine and fresh air.

Air and Sunshine… makes the Argentine flag fly beautifully too

Hola from the best exotic Sudamérica!

It’s been a long 26 hours but we’ve finally arrived in Buenos Aires!

What do you do with 20 over hours in a confined space? Well, some of us would watch movies. Lots and lots of movies. I leaned heavily towards movies that I would not normally watch because I consider them too “slow” and takes too long to get to the point. But on a plane, the situation changes because it’s not like there is anything else that needs my immediate attention anyway, right?

One of the shows I watched was The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel. It’s a very British movie with a lot of old British actors/actresses who are known for having serious acting chops. The cast of “thespians” included 007’s boss, a professor at Hogwarts, the mob boss that got his ass kicked by Batman, and that squid creature in Pirates of the Caribbean.

Instead of having a gangster flick with rival gangs using sophisticated technology, magic and tentacles to whack each other, we have a movie that is about a group of old British people who decided to “outsource” their retirement to India because it was cheaper. At the run down Marigold Hotel, they try to make sense of the lives they’ve lived and contemplate their futures in the exotic and overwhelming animal that is India (spoiler alert: they would’ve all done terribly well in theater where they could emote at will and possibly lose a piece of clothing or two)

In the show, (most of) the retirees were initially terrified of the move to a place that is entirely alien to them. A large part of the show was dedicated to them overcoming this fear. Dame Judi Dench correctly noted that India is an assault on all the senses…

“It’s like a wave. Resist it and you will be knocked over. Jump into it and you just might make it out the other side.”

I don’t think that’s very different from venturing into any other environment that is alien to us.

You might not know this, but I always have the butterflies-in-the-stomach feeling prior to flying. The thought of throwing ourselves at an entirely foreign culture with people that speak a language I do not understand terrifies me every single time. 

For us, I think we’ve traveled long enough to know that the fear is (mostly) irrational. In fact, this very same “different-ness” is normally what we ended up enjoying the most during our travels. Yet, emotionally, I still cannot help feeling the fear before getting onto the plane.

I believe that most of us are always underestimating our own ability to deal with the unknown as well as our tolerance towards uncertainties, just as we would constantly overestimate the rewards staying in our “safe zone” would reap.

Perhaps that is why we travel the way we do. To somehow completely surrender ourselves to this fear and come out the other side unscathed is one of the greatest thrills in the world.

Another possible reason why we travel the way we do is because we are too lazy to plan ahead.

Notice that I said I watched the show? That’s because Jo spent the entire time on the plane kicking my ass in the “ability to sleep” department. True story… she slept for an 18 hour stretch without food or water. I suspect she was hibernating or going through some self induced Futurama-esque cryogenic sleep.

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Side note: This will be the last South American post till I finish all I have to say about Taiwan. This post is mainly to thank everyone who had us in their thoughts and prayers. We’re safely in a hostel in Buenos Aires in spite of a cab driver who “No Hablo Inglés” and yet, insisted on going through his handwritten Spanish notes with us WHILE he was driving at 90km/h. I think that was when all the prayers came in really handy. 

Jo will continue her hibernation to “sleep off the jet lag”… maybe until the day machines take over the earth. #sarahconnors #whatisthematrix