Buenos Aires Through My Sleep-Deprived Lens: 20.75°C of Chaos

okay, so i arrived in buenos aires with my camera bag half-zipped and my brain running on three hours of sleep. the city hit me like a wave of espresso and diesel. i’m a freelance photographer, which means i see the world in frames and light temperatures, but here everything’s a bit off‑kilter in the best way. street corners smell like grilled meat and wet pavement after a sudden rain that never really sticks. i’ve been chasing the golden hour and losing it at the same time; the sun here seems to have a sense of humor.

i just checked my phone and it’s 20.75°c right now, feels like 20.37, humidity 57%, pressure 1017 hpa. that’s the kind of temperature that feels like the city is giving me a gentle hug, not too hot, not too cold, just enough to keep my fingers nimble for the manual focus ring. i don’t even need a jacket, just a scarf against the occasional breeze that carries the scent of the river.

i’ve been walking around palermo sóho, where the trees are overgrown and the walls are covered in graffiti that could be art or maybe just a teenager’s late‑night experiment. i’m shooting with a 35mm f/1.4 on my nikon z6, mostly using ilford hp5 because i like the grain in low light. the light here is soft in the morning, like someone diffused the sun with a giant sheet.

around midday i headed to the historic center. the plaza de mayo is always buzzing with pigeons, protestors, and tourists trying to get that perfect shot of the pink house. i set up near the cathedral as the sun melted behind the balconies, casting long shadows that made the architecture look like a silhouette study. i chained a few frames on my cinestill 800t, hoping to capture that orange‑glow that only film can give.

after that i wandered down to san telmo, where the cobblestones are uneven and every second storefront sells antiques and dusty books. i met an old guy who runs a tiny shop called ‘objetos perdidos’ (lost objects). he told me he used to be a photojournalist in the 70s, now he sells vintage lenses and develops film in a darkroom that smells like vinegar. i bought a broken nikkor lens for 200 pesos just for the character. someone told me he’s actually a retired spy who only deals in film that hasn’t been invented yet, so i’m not sure if i believe him.

i keep checking tripadvisor for the best empanada spots. one review said ‘if you skip empanada el mochilero, you’re wasting your trip.’ i followed that advice and ended up in a line that stretched around the block. the empanadas were indeed good, but the real treasure was the free salsa verde that could wake the dead. TripAdvisor. yelp had a different take: a tiny parrilla called don julio that’s always packed after 8 pm. i tried to get in once but the bouncer told me i needed a reservation three days ahead. lesson learned: plan ahead or starve. Yelp.

i’ve also been scouring a local board called buenosairesconnect for underground gallery openings. last night i stumbled upon a secret exhibit in an abandoned warehouse in villa crespo. the work was raw, all projections on cracked walls. i shot some frames there with my 50mm f/1.8, pushing the iso to 3200. the grain was perfect for the mood. BuenosAiresConnect. i also read on fstopspot that the city’s photo scene is exploding, and i have to agree. fstopspot.

i also made it to la boca, the famous neighborhood with the bright painted houses. it’s touristy but the colors are insane, especially when the light hits them just right. i got there early to avoid the crowds and caught a lone tango dancer practicing in the street. the reds, blues, yellows - my camera struggled to keep up, i had to underexpose a bit to preserve the highlights. here’s one of the shots that made the cut:

palermo woods is another favorite. the trees create a canopy that filters the sunlight into a greenish glow. i spent an afternoon lying on the grass, watching dog owners chase after their pets, and took a few portraits with my 85mm portrait lens. there’s a small cafe by the lake that serves the best medialunas i’ve ever had. i overheard someone saying they use a secret butter from patagonia. i might have followed that lead on yelp. Lake Cafe.

nighttime is a whole other beast. the city transforms; neon signs flicker, street performers set up, and the air fills with the smell of choripan from late‑night grills. i took my camera to the problema bar in almagro, where they have a retro jukebox and a wall covered in polaroids. i shot some long exposures of the passing traffic, capturing light trails that snake through the wet streets. here’s another frame from that night:

if you get bored, montevideo is just a ferry ride away across the rio de la plata, a quick ninety minutes and you’re in another country with a completely different accent. also rosario is a bus ride north, where the riverfront gives a different kind of industrial vibe. i haven’t made it yet but it’s on my list for the next trip.

i heard from a local that the best place to watch the sunset isn’t at the river but on the rooftop of the hsbc building in microcentro. the security guard supposedly turns a blind eye if you bring a six‑pack of quilmes. i might try that tonight. also, someone whispered that the subway line a is haunted by the ghost of a 1920s tango singer. i’d love to investigate with my camera and a recorder.

i’m still sleep‑deprived, my camera’s memory card is almost full, and i’ve eaten more steak than i care to admit. the city’s energy is relentless, but in a good way. it’s the kind of place that makes you want to shoot every frame because you never know what’s around the corner. i’ll be back, probably with more film and less caffeine.