Domingo, 13 de Abril

Just when I thought the Alvear breakfast offered every gastronomic delight possible, came the Alvear Sunday brunch. Brunch, took the “basic” Alvear breakfast buffet and added to it, oysters, caviar, and endless glasses of Malbec and Champagne, plus much more.

Two hours off gluttony and I was ready for a walk. Jack took Babette and I for a walk along Av. Libertador, passed the Museo de Bellas Artes, the "Floralis Generica", a giant metallic sculpture of a flower that opens and closes with the sun, and the Buenos Aires zoo. Our destination was Buenos Aires’s annual design fair, Puro Diseno,. One of Jack and Babette’s friends had jewelry on display at this giant exhibit of all things design related. There was clothing, handbags, and architecture. But the thing I was most interested in was the muebles, or furniture. I wandered through endless stands of modern furniture design, gathering business cards, and envisioning different designs for our store. One thing I had already become aware of was that Portenos were design fanatics. Every restaurant and boutique in Palermo featured different design twists. Of the nicest hotels in the city only the Alvear featured classic design. Down the street from the Alvear was the Hyatt. While housed in an old Porteno Palace, the interior of the Hyatt was cutting edge modern design – metal, glass, and black couches with lots of form but no function. Buenos Aires most recent five star addition is the Faena Hotel and Universe, a nouveau riche, boutique hotel by vogue, French designer Phillip Stark.

Finding a good dinner on a Sunday in Recoleta is difficult. We ended up wandering into a modest Argentine establishment, that was either a tourist trap, or a cheap local joint. It had a food menu the size of a double issue of Vanity Fair, and only a few other customers. There were seven of us and we agreed to order provoleta to start. “Just one,” Jack told the waiter, who tried to communicate that one would not be enough for everyone. “OK, a few then,” Jack said. “Yeah. Para la mesa,” I said, to indicate to the waiter that we wanted the dish as an appetizer for the table. Apparently, that didn’t translate, as five minutes later everyone at the table was treated to their own pizza size plate of cooked provolone and spices.

After dinner a couple of Jack and Babette’s friends who were tango fanatics, took us to a milonga, or tango bar. The milonga we went to was over a hundred years old. A classic two-story building, decorated with marble. On the second floor a live band played solemn tango tunes. Although the club was sparsely populated on a Sunday night, the setting and atmosphere made for a beautiful experience. The couple we were with explained the history of tango: a dance that was spawned by the largely male immigrant population in Argentina, originally danced by males with female prostitutes, the sadness of the songs reflective of their longing for their loved ones back home. Due to the sexually charged history of the dance the military government in Argentina had outlawed the dance during the 1960’s and 70’s. But through all that the milonga that we were currently in survived.