A long journey and a new home

What a journey. I’m now sitting peacefully, listening to the growing thunderstorm and static-like patter of rain, its sour note tinged with green. I got indoors again just in time.

Somehow, the beginning of my last trip in February – the flight to Rio de Janeiro – seemed far less tiring than this flight. The plane was very hot last night; maybe an overreaction to customer complaints, suggested my seat partner Sammy. I too remember these long-haul flights being very cold but my extra t-shirt this time really was too much. The four-hour layover in Sao Paulo grew by half an hour as the staff at GRU chopped and changed our gate, sending us to a distant one, then back again with a noise something between consternation and weary humour emanating from the sun-bound crowd. A bright point in the experience was when Koki gave me a quick ring at 0700ish and implored me to eat something and have a coffee. Wise words as I was certainly flagging.

At last we got away and things got a lot smoother from then on. I had had a number of worries before I left. One of them was how to get AR$1600 and US$2000 I had to bring (US$1200 for my month’s rent, US$800 for the deposit) safely from the airport into the hands of my landlord. In an effort to thwart any low-minded crook I planned to distribute the money between a number of wallets, pockets and hidden bags. Mugging me was unlikely to lose me more cash than the mugging clause of my travel insurance would cover. This I did, but I left all the separate wallets in my hand luggage, in the expectation that I would secrete them about my person at the appropriate time before leaving the airport. It’s funny how ennuie can sneak in at times like this and as I walked out of the baggage return at Ezeiza, I knew all would be well. To be perfactly honest, I had stopped worrying too much when a recent confirmation e-mail had promised that I would be met by one Adriana. It was reasonable to suppose, I think, that if “Adriana” could carry over a grand in American green, myself as a six-foot, scowling half-tourist could do as well.

I picked a remise stand at random (there must be cartel pricing agreement anyway, surely?) and within minutes at the cost of US$47 I was speeding down the General Ricchieri Expressway and talking in halting Spanish with the driver about the weather and which exit from the motorway he would take for San Telmo.

I suppose having studied the map incessantly for months and walked around the major intersections in the square couple of miles around the Obelisco meant that street names and junctions looked more familiar. We drove ponderously up Chacabuco, stopping right outside my address. I hunted down the right button from a brass plate of some 16, rang the bell and looked at my driver. He wasn’t quite waiting for a tip; more keen to see me meet my contact safely. I tried in vain to find a note that would do for a tip but could only lay my hands on high dollar bills and he didn’t seem bothered when nothing was forthcoming. Worth noting that taxi tipping isn’t very common here yet anyway, especially as the prices of short cab rides are going up year-on-year.

A slight girl with a ready smile and a bundle of A4 forms arrived out of the darkness of the apartment block hallway. She unlocked the door, shook my hand and lead me to the lift. I immediately demurred purely out of habit and she laughingly followed me up the stairs. What followed was quite some scrabbling with two very strange keys. Each looked like a normal key with an extra bit with asymmetric wards. Both required two turns in their locks, but the lower one required an extra 8th turn to pull back the sprung latch. I’ll try to get a picture on here.

Adriana showed me around, pointing out as many failings as good points, which was to her credit – no sugarcoating here – I knew San Telmo is a very old area of town and its charm must be taken with a degree of mild infrastructural decay. The building manager/caretaker, Gonzalo, is going to take a look at the gas hob at some point as it doesn’t light and apparently the hot water is slightly on the blink (though my shower was hot, so all seems fine). I can’t complain much as it should all be sorted tomorrow.

Showering, setting up the internet (am I the only person who travels with a wireless router and a 4-way socket? Do tell), and taking a breather after what was long and quite stressful journey seemed sensible. Great to talk to folks back home with Skype, and an hour and a half later and I was ready for a walk. The plan was to walk in a square around a few of the local blocks and work out where the shops and restaurants were. Setting off East, within five minutes I was on Defensa and turning up there put me only a little over 10 minutes to Plaza de Mayo! This is a very well-located flat. I walked up Corrientes (which is old stomping ground) and turned right to walk along a large length of Florida, stopping to pick up a couple more switched socket adaptors (so that we can have them by the beds for mobile charging was my rationale). My haggling failed but I got them for AR$12 each – less than £4 for the pair. This mission included getting some credit for the mobile. The small newsagents seemed surprised when I asked, but the street stands seem to sell them at their face value, so I’m now topped up to the tune of AR$30 – let’s see how long it lasts. The Movistar network seems to double or triple your credit sometimes when you top up. Finally, a visit to a supermercado for some salad, other groceries for a pasta meal tomorrow and a bottle of 2011 Malbec for AR$25 – £4 (you’ve got to start somewhere, people – they probably export the cheap stuff at inflated prices anyway. Let’s see how it goes down when my first guests come over. My two Malbec benchmarks are that Etchart that Haydn and I drink down the Chequers (and the Dog and Badger in Medmenham) and Sainsbury’s very gutsy Morador which is like being hit in the face with a well-worn leather jacket). I saw some of the famous sites on the way home – Confiteria Ideal on Suipacha (for my tanguero friends) and have earmarked some other places to check out, like bakeries, parillas and grocers’ shops.

So what’s the plan for the evening? Well, I’ve espied a very nearby restaurant. It looked popular with the locals when I walked past, so a short nap and I’ll check that out. If I don’t like the look and the rain has stopped I’ll go further afield, but it will be an early night for me, I expect. But you can’t go out for dinner here before 2100. Just isn’t done.

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