People used to be easily amused. A ride on a painted horse in a circle could’ve been a high point of some Midwestern kid’s year. The sights, the sounds, the smells of carnival rides became the cherished memories people carried through their lives. Even I remember when a carousel ride wasn’t lame, but, of course, I am much older than my physical age.
So I am standing on the corner of Westport Rd. and Pennsylvania, minding my own business, when KC Mayor is walking across the street, without a posse. Then his wife finally caught up with him, because he makes giant steps and she has to run just to keep up, and they walked into Harpos.
I bet you didn’t know that the famous song “Don’t Cry for me Argentina” had more lyrics than the title. If Argentina had a peso for every time a tourist quotes this song, no one would ever have to work for living there. But until then Argentina just charges Americans $140 to cross the border and lets them walk around all day humming this song off-key for no additional charge.
After this trip to Argentina my non-existent bucket list got a lot smaller:
If you are looking for a an interesting destination and don’t mind paying the price, Argentina might be a place to consider.
Contrary to multiple tour guides and websites, nothing in Argentina is an extreme bargain, except for the public transportation. Your meals will probably cost you about the same as here, maybe slightly cheaper depending on the restaurant. Clothing is more expensive, and although you can find high quality leather products, a good leather jacket starts at $250. Vodka and vine cost about the same as here. Electronic items are significantly higher but most of them are unusable here anyway. I have no idea how much precious stones cost in this country, but I’ve been told that they are cheaper in Argentina where many of them are mined.
Speaking about food. Although I’ve never seen a similar density of cafes, restaurants, coffee shops, sandwich stores, ice cream places, chocolate stores and whatever food establishments one can imagine, food was somewhat a disappointment for me. Not because it was bad – it wasn’t – but because it was so ordinary and somewhat bland. I was shocked to discover that Argentinians are not fans of spicy food. Their famous grilled meats served in omnipresent parrillas are usually just seasoned with salt and lemon juice. The quality of meat is excellent and the servings are huge with beef, chicken, pork, several kinds of sausages including blood sausage, chinchulín (chitterlings) and mollejas (sweetbreads) served in one huge pile on a plate.
