Buenos Aires has probably the most amazing street art of any city I’ve been to (sorry NYC!). As such, over the past few weeks I’ve tried to take as many photos of this art as I could before we leave the city. Below is one of my favorites which is a giant mural of a sumo wrestler completed under the bridge of a highway. For my complete collection of the BA street art photos, click on this Facebook album.

It’s not easy to accumulate visitors on a trip that’s all about last-minute planning. Our friends have only a set number of vacation days and have to plan well in advance, but we often don’t know what we’re doing or where we’ll be even a week in advance.

Our seven-week stay in Buenos Aires was different. It was the longest we’d be staying in one place in the forseeable future, and we had an apartment and growing familiarity with the city from which our friends could mooch. And so last Thursday until this past Tuesday, our friend from New York, Shyema, came to visit.

Shyema has an eye for photo ops:

We may not be experts, but if you find yourself in BsAs at any point, check out this list of our favorite spots.

RESTAURANTS

Steak
Overall… Don Saverio, formerly known as La Rosalia. A warm ambiance, kind waitstaff, great quality steak and the best provoleta (baked slab of cheese; look it up) all at an affordable price.

Makeshift Thanksgiving dinner at Don Saverio with Shyema:

For bife de chorizo… Parilla 22. According to Eaman, it’s the place for this particularly juicy cut.

For ambiance… La Leyenda. Though the steak isn’t as amazing as that found at the other parrillas, the atmosphere is the best, Try to sit inside, which resembles a grungy garage filled with futbol paraphernalia. Oh, and order the beef empanada. You can thank me later.

Italian:
Evita Cafe. Don’t shrug off this companion cafe to the Museo Evita as a bland tourist trap. It serves up some of the best homemade pasta in the city. On a warm night, sit out on the patio.

Pizza:
Pekin. Recommended by one of our taxi drivers, this low-key pizza spot blows the more famous pizzerias in the city out of the water. Their medium-thick crust strikes the perfect balance of crispy on the outside and soft on the inside. Try a portion, or one slice, of the fugazetta, a porteno pizza staple made of mozzarella and onions. After a night of partying, head back for empanadas…and more pizza.

Sandwiches and Salads:
Baraka. This Middle Eastern-inspired cafe has plenty of fresh food — definitely try the smoothies — to balance out all that indulgent eating. Bonus points for its very Zen menu:

Pani. In a city of girly coffee shops, no one does it like Pani. It has a romantic design with plenty of pastels, and an amazingly sweet staff to boot. (When we were looking for apartments, they let us use their landline and offered translation help!) The extensive menu offers tons of pastries, coffee and, unlike many places in BsAs, a lot of tea options as well.

Pani:

Pierina. This tea house is like a Pani for a 20-something and her mom. The cafe con leches come in giant bowls with a shot of sparking water in pretty, antique-looking glasses.

Pierina with carrot cake, macarons, cappuccinos, a croissant, an espresso and a Shyema:

Bomba de Tiempo. This live percussion concert will remain one of my favorite travel memories of all time. It takes place every Monday at a funky space on a nondescript street. It’s one big, hot, sweaty, wickedly fun drum circle bash.

La Cathedral. Another tango spot, but one that has a more classic, older feel. If you want something different, go on Monday at midnight for a tango concert.

Post. It’s cheap, decorated with tons of stencil graffiti and features a chill rooftop. Plus, the second floor houses an art gallery if you want some culture with that beer.

Recoleta market. A far cry from the tourist-laden San Telmo market, this huge fair features fashion, food, crafts and darling souvenirs. Spend the day shopping and walking around and then head to the…

Recoleta cemetary. This is one of BsAs’ few tourist sites and the only one worth going to, IMHO. Buried in the tombs are presidents, doctors and, of course, Eva Perron. It’s beautiful, creepy…and free to enter!

El Ateneo Grand Splendid bookstore. An expansive bookstore housed in a gorgeous old theater. Most of the books are in Spanish, but you’ll be too busy gawking at the beautiful architecture or settling in with your own book at its cute cafe to notice.

A futbol match. Whether it’s a club team, the national team or a match with the famed Boca Juniors, just go. The energy and passion in the stadium is unparalled.

Colonia, Uruguay. Take the one-hour (or three-hour if you want to save money) Buquebus ferry to this old Portugese settlement for a getaway from city life. There isn’t much to see per se, but the relaxation and seaside views are reason enough to go. Tour the old town, a UNESCO World Heritage site, eat lunch in the downtown area, rent bikes and ride by the shiny blue water.

Let us know if there’s something else you would add to the list!

Everyone raved about how stylish everyone is in Buenos Aires, so Eaman and I were a little skittish about how our decidedly grubby backpacker clothes would fit into porento life. Within two days of moving into our apartment, we promptly headed to the mall (yes, there is one) and cheap outlet stores to create some semblance of a normal wardrobe. We didn’t buy much — jeans were my most significant purchase — just enough to avoid cargo shorts and yoga pants 24/7.

But since we came from the fashion capital known as New York, once we settled into BA, we found that the moda was a little, um, unremarkable. I didn’t expect much out of most barrios (neighborhoods), but I expected a whole lot from the nieghborhood we call home — Palermo. It’s known for its hip style, well-edited boutiques and sidewalks that double as runways. But, generally speaking, the Palermo-ites’ fashion was — how shall I put it? — a little…yawn.

Their outfit of choice, as I have now deduced, is an 80s-style crop top (preferably floral), skinny jeans, top knot bun and fringe purse. It’s like Urban Outfitters came to BA, vomitted and left without cleaning up. (The other uniform is booty shorts and barely there tops…at any time of the day.) Where’s the diversity? The experimentation? Even the Zara stores were a good two seasons behind on trends.

Now, I’m definitely not strutting around in hot-to-trot outfits, but I think my 55L backpack and I have a valid excuse. And I’m no professional fashion critic, but I do enjoy and appreciate interesting fashion. I hate to be harsh, but I guess I just had high expectations. I couldn’t help but dwell on fashion — a seemingly irrelevant topic considering our style of travel — but people had built it up to something it wasn’t.

That being said, the are some lovely boutiques and funky pieces few and far between, so I said I would allow myself one nice fashion piece from BA, something that would immediately strike me. (Yes, yes, I know, this trip is like one big treat. But let a girl have her fashion, mmkay?) Despite the dearth of style, I had a feeling I’d find something…

…and this dress, by Argentine designer Kosiuko, did the trick:

After consulting with two of my best friends back home via photos snapped in the dressing room, I snatched it up. It was an investment but certainly more cheaply priced than if it were in the States. I love it dearly, even if Britney Spears apparently loves the designer.

Oh, but then I saw a woman in a cafe wearing the most divine pair of bright teal loafers, and I had to have those, too. So with my meager Spanish, I asked her where she bought them — Donde comprio sus zapatos? — and yesterday, I managed to find (and buy!) the same pair, even though she couldn’t remember the name of the shop and only vaguely remembered the location. And they were super cheap, too. Eaman calls them loafers for Hamptons moms, but I happen to like them.

Instead, I’m going to continue marching on with the cotton dress I wear every other day and the knotted T-shirt-black skirt ensemble I wear on the other days. It’s weird, but it works. I can deal.

Yesterday, I shared with you the major food groups in Argentina. But there’s one food tradition I left — for good reason. It’s the merienda, and it deserves its own post.

I’ve fallen in love with this evening snack ritual — usually a cafe con leche and 1-3 medialunas, or croissants — that was incorporated into the Argentine diet to hold you over until their definitively late dinner time.

Sometimes I plan my day around our merienda. Sometimes I map out where next week’s meriendas will be. Sometimes they involve coffee and dessert. Sometimes they involve just dessert. Sometimes I think I’d rather have three meriendas a day than three meals a day.

So come with me on a visual tour of some of my favorite meriendas. I promise, you’ll fall for them, too.

I couldn’t figure out when the best time would be to post about food because there’s a continuous influx of more and more delicious stuff. This usually goes for any city we travel to or live in, but particularly here with all our free time, we’re constantly mapping out our next meal, geeking out to other people about what we’ve been eating and/or passing out in bliss from said meal. Alas, I finally decided to put down the fork and share a bit about our culinary adventures here in Buenos Aires.

Everywhere else in Central and South America, you’ll find rice, beans, plantains and other traditional Latin foods. But Buenos Aires is more European than Latin, and so it’s a cosmopolitan hodgepodge of goodies. The best way to explain those goodies is to break it down by the seven Argentine food groups:

Steak. Clearly the most important element of a portenos’ meal plan is the world-famous steak. Asado, vacio, bife de chorizo (Eaman’s new favorite) — they love it all. Eaman’s main mission upon arriving in BA was to eat as much steak as humanly possible. As a flexitarian, my mission was to eat enough to get by, and fill up on bread and dessert the rest of the time. Both missions accomplished. Though, considering I usually never eat red meat in the U.S. — save for Shake Shack burgers in New York City — I have to say — I actually liked the carne in BA. Not only is the meat better quality than that faux corn-filled crap we get in the States, but it’s also one of the most significant aspects of porteno culture. They’re as passionate about their steak as they are about their futbol! (Fun fact: Argentines use only salt to season steak. But obviously with our spice-craving palettes we also piled on chimichurri.)

Eaman, not in a garage, but in La Leyenda, a totally off-the-map parrilla in Palermo that we visited on our first night. We’ve since had better quality steak, but there’s definitely no better ambiance:

Eep.

Massive steak dinner after the Argentina vs. Bolivia futbol match:

Bread. True, the bread isn’t as great as those found in European bakeries, but it’s still better than most of the pan found in the U.S. Even the baguettes, now a staple in our apartment, at the grocery store are a fine choice. At restaurants, I tell myself, “just two rolls,” and I somehow down four. I’m on vacation, right?

Also in the bread category are fries — plain and garlic versions. Argentines haven’t yet mastered the art of the perfect fry, but I’ll take it. You kind of just have to when you order steak. It’s like ordering pizza and not ordering a soda…and now you understand why we joined a gym.

Pizza and Italian food. We’ve tried a lot of pizza in this city and initially were rather disappointed, considering how big a role Italian immigrants have played in shaping culture and cuisine in BA. (Mind you, we’re tough pizza critics; we’re from New York.) That is, until we tried Pekin, a suggestion from the porteno who drove us to this estanica. The crust is crispy in all the right spots, and their fugazzetta — a local type of pizza filled with mozzarella and topped with roasted onions — is the best we’ve had. (Sorry, no pictures. You’ll have to trust us.) And though we haven’t eaten Italian food out as much, there’s a reason. There’s a fantastic pasta shop that sells homemade pasta just a few blocks from our apartment. Their pesto is major.

Pasta dinner at home:

Desserts. Walking around this city is like an exercise in will power. Every block has at least one panaderia filled with beautiful cakes, glazed medialunas and dulce de leche wonders. Every other block has a helado (ice cream) or gelateria shop, and let me tell you, Italy has nothing on BA’s gelato. It’s the BEST.

Banana-chocolate torta at my favorite bakery, Pani:

Freddo is, hands down, the best gelato in the city:

Empanadas. Not so much particular to Argentina but popular all over Latin America, these pockets of warm goodness are everywhere in BA. We had our favorite at a bustling restaurant in San Telmo, but even the ones at fast food chain Cumen-Cumen are fantastic.

San Telmo delicousness: (dripping grease, I now realize, is the mark of a fantastic empanada)

Cumen-Cumen:

Hippie restaurants. It’s not as hard to be vegetarian in meat-loving BA as you’d think. That’s partly because of the prevalence of Italian food and partly because of what I dub “hippie restaurants.” They focus on fresh, often organic ingredients and serve up veggie-friendly menus dotted with New Age ambiances. There’s a vegetarian spot called Krishna, which is, I think, run by Hare Krishnas, a pricey organic restaurant called Bio, and a couple of healthy lunch places (bBlue and Baraka), which, unlike the first two, actually taste good.

We loved Baraka’s sandwiches and smoothies. And check out the menu:

Ethnic fare. To be honest, we haven’t ventured far from steak and pizza. Why try Vietnamese food when we’re going to Vietnam next year? Why try Armenian food when we’re…OK, we don’t have a good excuse for that one. But I did have Indian food last week — my Desi blood needed it! — and in the city that hates flavor, it was surprisingly and deliciously flavorful.

And there are, of course, meals we’ve had that don’t quite fit into any one category. Here’s the best of the rest.

Breakfast waffle at Pani:

The freshest fish I’ve ever eaten, at Social Paraiso, which features a well-priced, elegant lunch menu:

Though I usually hate salads, I’m enjoying them as much as possible before we move onto other regions and countries where raw food will be an issue. This uber-cheap caprese salad at a grungy local spot is one of my favorites:

And of course I’m cooking, too, but the meals are relatively unremarkable. Think roasted vegetables and baguette sandwiches. Still, it’s a great way to save money and keep our sodium levels in check.

Tomorrow, a special focus on my favorite Argentine food tradition — the merienda!

There are a few day trips everyone recommends you take when you get to Buenos Aires: Montevideo (the capital of Uruguay), Tigre (a delta city north of Argentina) and Colonia del Sacremento (a charming small town on the western Uruguayan coast). (There’s also Punta del Este, a beach town in Uruguay that becomes super sceney for the holiday months of January and February. Sounds fun in theory but is probably more like the Hamptons meets Miami a.k.a. ego meets flash.)

Everyone — from our friends to our landlord — raved about Colonia, so on Wednesday Eaman and I got up bright and early to catch the hour-long ferry to the coastal town.

My only lasting memory of a ferry ride is the quick one from downtown Manhattan to Governor’s Island, which happens to be one of my favorite day-trips in New York City. Theirs is a small, nondescript vessel, so you can imagine how ecstatic I was to walk onto the Colonia-bound Buquebus (pronounced book-e-boos) and see this:

Once we set foot on Uruguayan soil, we understood what all the fuss was about. Colonia is a former Portuguese settlement dating back to 1689 with a historic center dubbed a World Heritage Site by UNESCO. It’s filled with cobblestone streets, Spanish roofing, strikingly bright flowers and a sleepy beach side. And the people are some of the nicest; drivers stop in mid-traffic to let you pass!

We met this jolly Uruguayan man there and weren’t sure if he worked at the restaurant or was one of those old folks who, with age, has earned the right to plop down in any spot he pleases. Either way, he looked mighty happy drinking his mate (a very traditional herbal tea drink) and chatting with us.

At the restaurant, bottled Pepsi… never gets old:

There were two dilemmas that arose from renting an apartment in Buenos Aires: How would we meet people and how would we improve our Spanish (with the growing number of English-speaking expats with meet each day).

Since Peru, my Spanish has gone from rapidly improving to virtually nonexistent. I credit that decline mostly to the different variation of Spanish here, known as Castellano. (As I mentioned, portenos use different vocabulary, speak with an Italian-ish accent and talk much faster than Peruvians.) Perhaps it was because my Spanish was already shaky, but when faced with the new linguistics challenge, I basically threw my hands up in defeat.

As terrible as it sounds, I began to question how much I cared to really learn Spanish. As much as I love traveling, I’m not one of those people that picks up languages easily, so speaking a foreign tongue is always an uphill battle. But to put it more simply, I got lazy. One day in a boutique, a shopgirl asked me a question, which was probably, “Can I help you with anything?” and not knowing how to respond and too nervous to even say, “gracias,” I pretended I didn’t hear her and walked away. Not my finest moment.

I knew this was a slippery slope, and thanks to Eaman’s desire to actually improve his Spanish, which he constantly practices with any local he meets, we found a solution to both the friends problem and the language barrier.

It’s called Spanglish, a language exchange and happy hour combo event started by an American expat living in BA. (The organization has gotten so big it runs six nights a week in BA and has expanded to Spain and the U.S.) Non-native Spanish speakers get paired up with locals for five rounds of 10 minutes each; they speak five minutes in Spanish and the other five in English. It’s speed dating for travelers.

The added bonus of Spanglish is the social exchange. The people who come to Spanglish aren’t just looking for language help; they’re also the kind of welcoming folk who like to meet people. (Portenos are lovely, but some of the 20-somethins are a bit clique-ish.)

We started Spanglish last Tuesday, when the organization had its weekly beerlingual-bilingual trivia night. A sucker for random facts, I didn’t actually care that I had forgotten almost everything Rosetta Stone taught me. But I figured I should be able to say something before the event, so Eaman and I sat in the park and rehearsed lines:

I am a writer. Soy un escritor. I am from New York. Soy de Nueva York. I like movies and the park. Me gustan las películas y el parque. Hey, I didn’t say I’d be reciting Shakespeare!

But as it turned out, the trivia night was more of an exercise in Scott Baio knowledge–with a couple questions about Spanish leaders thrown in–than Spanish linguistics. (Not complaining!) So we hit up Spanglish’s Thursday night event last week for full-on language exchange.

When I sat down with my first partner, he started in English and asked me questions like, “Where are you from?” and “What do you like to do for fun?” ack! After exhausting all my practiced lines just in the English portion, what would I say in Spanish?

But that’s what I needed: pressure. Suddenly, I dusted off words and phrases I used before, and put together sentences that actually somewhat made sense. It helped the Spanish speakers were really patient, just as they want you to be with their English. I don’t want to give you the impression that I was reciting epic poems and talking slang with the best of them, but I was getting by, albeit only with present tense, and that was a lot better than ignoring a shopgirl.

I don’t expect to become proficient in Spanish, even by the end of our time in South America, and a part of me would much rather focus on Farsi–Eaman’s mother tongue that I can speak decently so far–because that’s a language that’ll have longevity in my life, but I do understand how important language is to feeling immersed in a culture.

That being said, we’re headed to Spanglish tonight. It’s trivia night, baby!

Update: I realized last night that Spanglish isn’t just like speed dating; it IS speed dating. The ratio of local men to local women clocked in at 8 to 0 yesterday. So, with each new male Argentine speaking partner, the first sentence out of my mouth always involved Eaman to set my status straight from the beginning. And there I thought these guys wanted to improve their ingles…

Some stories aren’t worth entire blog posts but that’s not to say they’re not worth mentioning. Here, a few vignettes from recent Buenos Aires life.

There is a homeless local man who has set up shop on one particular corner on the edge of our neighborhood, Palermo. But he is the most hooked-up bum I’ve ever seen. His nook is outfitted with two twin-size mattresses piled atop each other and a working TV, which he’s always watching when we pass. If he gets HBO, I might just complain to our landlord about our lack of channels.

Petty crime is rampant in Buenos Aires–I never leave my purse out of my vice-like grip–but it’s the blue collar kids who seem to instill the most fear. They frequently nag patrons sitting in al fresco areas of restaurants for money or just for fun. In the U.S., that would never (be allowed) to happen. But here, the locals seem hesitant to mess with these kids, so they put up with it. Example: Eaman, our friend Christine and I were having a merienda (tea time) outdoors when, all of a sudden, a rowdy little girl said something to us quickly in Spanish before usurping the squeeze bottle of dulce de leche from our table and downing a good portion of it. Our waitress meekly told the girl, “No, that’s not for eating.”

I love Buenos Aires and I love slow-paced life, but for the love of god, BA, can you please speed up the lines at the grocery stores? It doesn’t matter what time you go; 9 a.m., 3 p.m., 9 p.m.–it’s all painful.

If you follow us on Twitter, then you know we joined a gym to stay in shape. You may be wondering how we manage to take classes in full Spanish. Well, it’s a combo of becoming expert hand gesture intrepreters and being corrected a lot because we don’t know what they’re saying to correct us to begin with. When we’re not intensely studying hand motions or listening for “arriba” or “rapido,” we’re learning a lot about the Argentina gym system. For starters, classes rarely begin on time. Senor instructor arrives when the class is actually supposed to start and begins only after giving most of the class-goers a hello kiss. (At today’s kickboxing class, the instructor came up to me before we started, and it took what felt like five whole minutes to realize he was giving me a kiss hello.) While we’re on the subject of Spanish-speaking instructors: It’s hilarious to hear them sing along with the songs in English. It may have something to do with my kickboxing instructor, Andres, singing Paramore tunes. Last point: Girl who I saw working out with her trainer recently, lace tops have no place at the gym.

Of all shows for Argentina cable networks to play on repeat, why must they be Law & Order, Gossip Girl and The Big Bang Theory?! How about more than just one episode American Horror Story for a change? Or if you really want to get on my good side, some Parks and Recreation?

On Monday night, Eaman and I partook in a porteno (slang for Buenos Aires locals) tradition and hit up the weekly percussion jam session known as La Bomba de Tiempo. The 17-member group, whose music sounds like a mixture of Latin, African and dhol music, plays in an open-air space in the city with a new special guest each week. We were lucky enough to come on a week when the group welcomed Brazilian beat-boxing, rapping, melodizing sound machine Marcelo Pretto.

Before we decided to travel to multiple countries in this year, Eaman and I had first planned to leave New York to spend a year in just Buenos Aires. It sounded dreamy, but we actually didn’t know much about the city except that it’s big on steak and red wine and that it’s known as the Paris of South America. Now that we’ve been here for almost two weeks, we can confirm both those things. But we also learned some new things about life here.

I think the best way to describe BA to my American or American-loving friends is that it’s the best combination of New York City and Los Angeles. (The romance and architecture gets it the nod to Paris.) It has the buzz of a city that never sleeps but manages to stay laid-back and relatively quiet (except on the major avenues). There are rows and rows of cafes straight out of the East Village, Nolita or the Lower East Side, but to balance it out, there’s greenery and wildflowers to have you thinking you’re walking down Melrose. And much like both cities, there are certainly those places to see and be seen, but if you wander slightly off the beaten track, you’ll find underground spots.

In general, we love it and our ‘hood seems to be a perfect fit for us. Of course, there’s plenty more to discover, but here are some interesting aspects of culture that we’ve stumbled upon here:

Argentine Spanish is nuts. It’s like a different language. ‘Yo’ becomes ‘sho,’ ‘tu’ becomes ‘bos’ and all sorts of other crazy word switches applicable only to BA. But the bigger issue is the accent and similarity to Italian–with the fervor and hand gestures to match. (Many Italians immigrated to BA long ago, and most locals, known as portenos, are equal parts Spanish and Italian.) They pride themselves on their dialect, and yes, it’s beautiful, but please slow down. I have no idea what you’re saying!

Girly cafes. This mainly applies to our neighborhood of Palermo, but there is certainly no shortage of cutesy, uber feminine tea parlors and panaderias here–outnumbered only by clothing stores for trust fund babies. It’s seriously outrageous just how many there are. Now, I live for dainty macaroons and Rachel Ashwell shabby chic interior design, so this is my personal heaven. Eaman, on the other hand, is forced to sip coffee from this mug in a cafe that plays Madonna’s greatest hits:

(I keep telling him his search for bars that’ll play Oklahoma football games is all but useless.)

Water. We can drink it from the tap and eat salads. Rejoice. Yay!

Dogs. They’re everywhere, and much to my good fortune, many–at least in our neighborhood–are golden retrievers. (Unlike NYC, BA doesn’t seem to have a love affair with small, yappy dogs.) Gentle, loving and well-groomed, they’re a target for petting (by me.) (Note to self: Find dog walking gig.) But with dogs come dog poop, and BA certainly beats out NYC in terms of lazy owners. We now know uneven sidewalks aren’t the only concern during our daily strolls.

Scene from a typical Sunday in Palermo…babies, dogs and cafe-ing:

Refrigeration policies are rather lax. It’s totally normal to find milk and even eggs in the regular aisle. We haven’t gotten sick yet, so I guess it works.

The mannequins are frightening. Same goes for Peruvian mannequins, but what is with these? I don’t want to buy your store’s clothes; I want to run far, far away!

Cubierto. This means “service charge” at restaurants and they’re not talking about tip. Basically, you have to pay for sitting down and being waited on. The charge has ranged, for us, from 4 to 8 pesos; it’s such a rip off, made even more irritating when a waiter explained that it covers the ambient music and bread basket. Wtf?

The coffee culture. It’s amazing. Since Argentines eat dinner so late, they need a late midday snack, known as a merienda, to hold them over to the next meal. The m.o. is cafe con leche with 2-3 medialunas (croissants), and there’s usually a deal at cafes and restaurants between 4 and 7 p.m. To top it off, the coffees almost always come with a shot glass of sparkling water and cookie.

I have a whole post on our food adventures coming up, but I had to share this image from today’s merienda:

Many more updates to come, including our first trip to a local soccer match and our almost sick addiction to food, food, food, and more food.