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Adventures of a single traveller
Meera Dattani hits South America. Follow her adventures as she travels around Argentina and beyond
It's the night before and I'm last-minute packing. It might not be the first time I've flown to pastures unknown, but excitement mingles with nerves to create an unwelcome nausea. Lucozade, God of Calming Sweet Fizz, comes to my rescue. But airport-bound and checked-in (at my record low of 11kg), adrenalin works its magic and I'm too excited to sleep. There's something exhilarating about arriving somewhere unknown as a mysterious traveller, and Buenos Aires is as enticing a first port of call as any. I catch a taxi to Hostel One in San Telmo, Buenos Aires's atmospheric southern barrio (quarter) renowned for its Sunday market, tango bars and crumbling colonial facades.
Arriving in Buenos Aires
Behind one such façcade was my hostel. Like hotels, some are awful, but they're sociable places and the newer/improved ones are surprisingly good with en-suite dorms, private rooms and terraces. This one oozes character with its super-high ceilings and friendly staff, but bathrooms are grimy... I take my lenses out. Ignorance is bliss. After a siesta (when in Rome...), I wander aimlessly around my new neighbourhood. San Telmo is dotted with bars, cafes and gorgeous buildings, and within a couple of minutes, I've stumbled upon its main square, Plaza Dorrego. On Sundays, the famous antiques market takes over the neighbourhood. Tempting as it is, day one of a 60-day trip is not for retail therapy.
The vibe is fantastically eclectic - in three evenings, I've tapped my toes to tango in the plaza, danced to drumming bands in a former factory complex and watched Capoiera (an African-Brazilian martial art dance) in San Telmo's lovely Parque Lezama. But Buenos Aires is a monster of a metropolis and I decide it's best explored in small doses. Conveniently, across the River Plate (Rio de la Plata), one of the world's shortest and widest rivers, lies lesser-visited Uruguay, so I book a ferry and three nights in riverside Colonia del Sacramento.
Getting snap happy
Founded by the Portuguese in 1680, its Barrio Históorico (old quarter) is a UNESCO site of cultural importance. The town is so pretty my memory card is heaving with snaps of old rusting cars parked on cobbled streets, terracotta-coloured cottages, secret courtyards, beautiful art galleries and the palm and orange trees around Plaza Mayor. Colonia has beaches too, strung all along the northern Rambla Costanera although my favourite is the south-facing cove-like Playa Ferrando with its own beach bar although the river water leaves a lot to be desired.
Sunsets from the west-facing Barrio Históorico are really quite something. The river is so wide it resembles the sea and waves crash against the rocks while the orange sun bobs on the horizon. The nearby marina makes a picturesque backdrop (the number of private yachts explain the high number of 'sailing fashion' stores) and I watch the sky turn pink accompanied by a new friend (that's hostels for you), a cold beer and chivito al pan (steak topped with ham, cheese and egg in a bun with salad). This new steak-and-beer detox diet has its pitfalls which I make up for by walking and cycling; pure pleasure as most cars are older than their owners and the average speed is around 10mph.
Three nights at the excellent El Viajero Hostel Suites slowly turn into seven. It's hard to believe that only a river separates this place from Buenos Aires where taxis and buses race the streets at rush hour. Here, rush hour is when locals spill onto the streets drinking yerba mate, a local herbal infusion sipped from a special bowl, topped up with hot water from a flask tucked under one arm.
I don't want to leave, but next week is carnival and the Uruguayan capital Montevideo beckons. Vamos.
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