Buenos Aires Brain Fart: Lost in Translation (and a Whole Lot of Empanadas)

okay, so where do i even start? buenos aires. just… buenos aires. i’m still trying to process it all. i landed here with these two seemingly random strings rattling around in my head: 3429652 and 1032535314. no idea what they mean. maybe it’s a grocery list? a code? honestly, it felt like a cosmic dare. the weather? i just checked and it's… a humid hug, the kind that makes your clothes stick to you but you don't really mind. a little unsettling, but hey, it’s argentina.

i’m a freelance photographer, mostly shooting street scenes and architecture. trying to capture the energy of this place, but it’s like trying to bottle lightning. everyone moves with this effortless swagger, and i feel like i'm constantly playing catch-up. the humidity makes my camera lens fog up, which is not ideal.

i spent the first day wandering around *Palermo, getting gloriously lost. the streets are a maze of colorful buildings, tiny cafes, and vintage shops overflowing with amazing stuff. i swear i could spend weeks just browsing those shops. i’m pretty sure i spent more on a pair of leather boots than i should have. whoops.

“Don’t trust the pigeons in Plaza de Mayo,” a woman at a cafe warned me, stirring her mate. “They’re watching. They know things.” I'm not even kidding.


okay, maybe she was just being eccentric, but it added to the whole…atmosphere. i’ve been trying to eat my way through the city. empanadas are basically a religion here, and i’m participating wholeheartedly. i also tried locro, a hearty stew that’s apparently a winter staple. it was good, but i’m not sure i’m a winter person. maybe i’m just not a stew person.

Recoleta Cemetery was… an experience. it’s less a cemetery and more an elaborate city of the dead, filled with ornate mausoleums and statues. it was a little spooky, but also surprisingly beautiful. someone told me that Eva Perón's tomb is always surrounded by flowers - a testament to her enduring legacy.



the locals are… interesting. everyone is incredibly friendly, but there’s this underlying layer of something else, something i can’t quite put my finger on. they’re passionate about football. seriously passionate. i even saw a guy get into a heated argument with a street vendor over which team was better. it was… intense. and someone warned me about scams near the tourist spots - said to keep a close eye on my belongings.

i'm staying in a little guesthouse in San Telmo, a historic neighborhood with cobblestone streets and tango halls. it's a bit gritty, a bit charming, and definitely authentic. the walls are covered in murals and street art, which is awesome for my photography. i found a great little cafe there that serves the best coffee. seriously, the coffee is on another level.



“If you want to see a real tango show, skip the tourist traps,” a bartender at a dimly lit bar said. “Go to a milonga. But be prepared to be swept away.”


so, yeah. that’s buenos aires so far. a whirlwind of sights, sounds, smells, and a whole lot of surprises. i'm finding it hard to even summarize. i’m thinking of checking out a tango lesson - maybe i’ll embarrass myself spectacularly. Or maybe i’ll actually learn something. who knows? i'm also planning a day trip to El Calafate - apparently, the glaciers are breathtaking.

oh, and i heard that the prices at Don Julio Parrilla are outrageous, but the steak is worth it. i should probably make a reservation. and definitely check out this helpful guide on TripAdvisor for recommendations. seriously, the food is amazing*. and if you're looking for a good hostel, check out Hostelworld. also, for some more in-depth travel tips, you can look at this Lonely Planet.

i’m going to go grab another empanada. wish me luck. and maybe send help deciphering those numbers.