'Just Don't Think About It'

If you look for it, there is green stuff here in Buenos Aires. Parks do exist. One probably wouldn't think that by walking the streets, but it's true. I suppose that it does not help that it's winter and all of the trees around the city are bare, but all in all big parks are definitely a minority. However, there is a sizable nature reserve out to the east of the center of town, and we decided to rent some bikes and cruise through it yesterday. It was a great ride. The reserve is huge; we spent two hours on the bike and didn't quite go everywhere. We finally saw the Rio (de la Plata), as well as some extremely colorful birds scattered among all of the bushes and, well, not too many trees. It was nice to get away from the hustle and bustle of the city for a little while. We really could have been anywhere though; riding a bike there felt like riding along the path in Alameda to the ferry. There were even sailboats and container ships out in the Rio to prove it.

Some may question our judgement to ride bikes in this city, but we safely made it the few blocks to the waterfront without incident. On our way we passed a small flea market, and what do you know but one stall was blasting 'The Heat Is On' straight out of Beverley Hills Cop. I couldn't resist riding over, throwing a few fist pumps and belting out a few notes. I instantly made a new friend in the shopkeeper.

Right along the waterfront is a string of parilla (barbecue) stands that stood out like homing beacons for a couple hungry cyclists. We took a break in our Tour de Puerto Madero and all got some choripan at one of the stands. Choripan has to be one of the best creations ever. It is what it sounds: chorizo and bread, but it is one of the tastiest meals that anyone could have. This stand had a table full of condiments, from fresh vegetable salsas to chimichurri sauces to mayonnaise to barbecue sauce. Just buying choripan from this street vendor made me a little nervous, and the fact that the cook's hands were black from who knows what didn't help. I was a little skeptical of the condiments, but I couldn't help but put some of the chimichurri sauce on my choripan. It was phenomenal. It was the best choripan yet, and I've had it a lot. I got back up to get some more chimichurri sauce, but the condiments table was busy with winged visitors. Yes, pigeons were eating the condiments. I turned around and pretended I didn't see that. One of my friends sitting at the table with a mouthful of choripan and some concoction of condiments could only say, 'Just don't think about it.' I could only laugh, because at this point I was committed.

Needless to say, I survived the night. Today saw me cruising through the Sunday Feria in San Telmo. This is the biggest flea market I have ever seen. The main section is in the little plaza towards the southern part of San Telmo, but just about every street in the barrio is lined with vendors. Just about everything you can think of has a price tag; padlocks that weigh several pounds, old license plates, matchboxes, jewelry, knives, leather working tools, you name it it's there. There were musicians galore, and even a TV from 1958 that boasted 3-D and HD abilities. Most of it is clutter, but every now and then there is definitely a diamond in the rough.

Instead of choripan today, I indulged in some empanadas at a busy little kiosk in the market. Everyone was more interested in watching the River game (River is one of the major football teams) on the one TV than eating or serving. Could it be any more authentic? Empanadas, a football match, in the middle of a market? I really don't think so.