Christmas day saw us out in the sun in the big local park intent on visiting a rose garden however defeated by a park keepers padlock we with other visitors wend our way back home for a restful evening after last night's late meal. We hadn't counted on Eloise's enthusiasm; she and Maria's granddaughter were going to another Milonga; 'You simply must come, they give a lesson in the tango style you will really like' We agree, again at the due time Eloise in laced up top and granddaughter in shiny hot pants come to call; this sole male being some 90 years, combined, the senior of our two young lady friends. Lesson received from somewhat portly Argentinian tutor, not much different from usual and this venue still reminiscent of Cheam Baths. About 12.30 we leave the younger generations to the continuing night-life. A fast eratic taxi ride home. Boxing day saw us arranging a trip out of BA. The bus station defeated me at first attempt as in excess of 300 differing bus companies vied for trade over what seemed the whole of South America. We opted for a cruise to Uruguay on Tuesday next with a 07.30 start. The bus trip will perhaps be for another day. Today saw Irene going off on her own whilst I visited a big shore line nature reserve. That was interesting with my first view of native animals in the wild. I got back about 2.30 Irene followed shortly thereafter. She had got thoroughly lost! I'll let her tell that tale herself. After booking our awayday cruise we bumped into a couple from the MSC cruiser who recommended A JAZZ CLUB not too far away so that presently is on our agenda for tonight. That was our second chance meeting in Buenos Aires that Boxing day!
Irene here and they say it's a small world! At Buquebus Terminal booking for Uruguay someone suddenly said "oh an English voice" to which we learned not only did she live in England but she lived in a road near sister Viv in Enfield.
My lone excursion today was to the area abutting Faculdad de Medicina where all the bead and fabric shops are situated. Yes fabric shops - I have never seen so many in one area. However on closer scrutiny they sell every kind but the cotton sadly is mostly of inferior quality. People are seen weighed down with great rolls of the stuff obviously taking it to the sweat shops for manufacture. I walked down streets full of hat and sunglasses shops, then others accommodating nothing but toys, then beads, then hair accessories, followed by clothes and underwear shops. I did so much window gazing by the time I stopped I was completely disorientated. Eventually I realised I was going in the totally wrong direction and not one to admit defeat and jump in a taxi I used the Subte (metro) which took me on an unfamiliar line. The carriages must have been the originals with slatted wooden seats and all the inside timber and mirror. If the sliding doors didn't open you had to prise them apart and then jump off when the train was still moving. I avoided this as I had visions of me rolling along the platform. There obviously is a knack - the one you used to alight from a roundabout! The stations were obviously the original 1930s with old white tiling, enamel signage and best of all, ornate wrought iron ticket offices. Although slight panic arose now and again it was well worth it!
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