Friday, August 11, 2006

Our last day in Buenos Aires, our last day out of the US. We didn't want to check out of the Ayers de Recoleta but there are no more "extra days" to be had. Late checkout (6:00 p.m.) is an extra $60, which, quite frankly, strikes me as ridiculous. So we left our overstuffed backpacks and Owen at the desk and headed out to finally see the Cementerio de Recoleta.

Owen, by the way, is the brand new enormous rolling suitcase we bought yesterday to carry home all the souvenirs and gifts we've picked up in BA. (I hope there is no limit to how much dulce de leche two people can bring out of the country.) We didn't feel like investing in a quality piece of luggage, so we scouted around Florida Street looking for one of those CD-cheap watch-cheap suitcase-camera stores so ubiquitous in tourist areas until we found what we wanted. There is a big nameplate across the front that says "Owen," so I guess that's the brand name.

We took Owen, filled with the aforementioned dulce de leche, back to the hotel on the subway. It's been a long time since I've had to negotiate some stupid big bag on the subway during rush hour, but it was not as bad as I feared it would be. Still, for some reason I was intimidated. It's been a long time since I've walked that fast.

Like the New York subway, the Buenos Aires subway is full of long passages and multiple staircases and people rushing along and stepping all over anyone who hesitates. We've used it a few times in the past week and coped with it adequately but with enough clumsiness to warrant hoping that I don't have the same problems when I get back to the MTA after so much time away.

But the Cementario is right around the corner from our hotel and we didn't need to take the subway to get there. If you go, you should take a tour. There are paid tours all the time, and there is a free English-language tour on Thursdays at 11:00. Do it, because if you don't, like we didn't, you'll see a lot of gorgeous and interesting mausoleums, but you won't really know anything about them. We eavesdropped on a tour for long enough to realize we were really missing out on a lot. If you only want to see Evita's grave, just follow the crowds to the Duarte mausoleum.

The cemetery was huge and seemed like a little city, with a grid of streets passing between the small, elaborate stone and marble buildings. The bad surprise was that many of the mausoleums were not being kept up properly and soda bottles and other types of trash had been thrown in through broken windows. Even many of those with intact windows had thick layers of dust on the coffins inside and on the stairs leading down into the mysterious darkness. But most were kept up, and some even contained green potted plants quietly providing a living presence.

The good surprise was the cemetary's colony of cats. I love cats, so I was all about them. Some of them were not receptive to attention, but the ones that were, truly were. One that I named Meredith climbed onto my lap, lay down against my chest and immediately started purring and drooling. I think they must live a pretty good life in there; they're safe from cars and we saw quite a few bowls of kibble lying around.

After visiting the cemetary, we crossed the street and went to the Hotel Etoile. There is a small bar/cafe attached to the gym on the fourteenth floor of the hotel with a balcony that offers a fantastic view of the entire cemetary and as much of the rest of the city as can fit into the horizon. It was much too cold to sit on the balcony once we had taken in the view, but we sat inside looking out the window and ordered a platter of antipasto and some sparkling water.

I couldn't end the trip without one more public restroom mishap. This time what happened was I got stuck in the bathroom. It was a gym locker room and the toilets were in separate little rooms way at the end of a damp, chlorine-y hallway. And I couldn't get out. I knocked a bit but I was too embarrassed to scream and couldn't think of how to go about doing it. English? Spanish? If Spanish, what should I yell? Ayudame? That seems a bit extreme for just being trapped in the bathroom. No puedo salir el baño? That just sounds ridiculous.

Just standing there knocking was also ridiculous, but I did it anyway, until I finally realized I wasn't locked in after all and I sheepishly let myself out and pretended none of it had ever happened. Ok, Buenos Aires. You got me. Good job. One last time for the road.

We spent the afternoon strolling around Recoleta and wandering in on some art exhibits in the Centro Cultural Recoleta. It was a beautiful day, cold but sunny, clear and blue. A nice, relaxing last day in Buenos Aires. Except for that ridiculous bathroom thing.

 

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Cementario de Recoleta, Buenos Aires.

Me, Cementario de Recoleta, Buenos Aires.

Crowds gather around Evita's grave. Cementario de Recoleta, Buenos Aires.

Me and Meredith, Cementario de Recoleta, Buenos Aires.

Cementario de Recoleta, Buenos Aires.

Cementario de Recoleta, Buenos Aires.

View of Cementario de Recoleta from Hotel Etoile, Buenos Aires.