Buenos Aires

Buenos Aries has to be a favourite city after the most positive border control experience ever. The immigration officer was looking in our passports for a place to put his stamp when he got all excited - he showed us our exit stamps from 5 years ago, with his signature on it. I don't know who was happiest about the coincidence, him or us, but it certainly was a nice welcome.

Our hotel here is extremely modest - we have to edge our way around the room sideways. But the upside is that the reception staff are so helpful and they suggest modestly priced activities. They directed us to a shop where we could get a good exchange rate - there is some financial problem just now with the official rate from the banks at only 9 pesos per $US, whereas the shop gave us 15 pesos. We then walked to the Buquebus office where we bought our SeaCat trip over the River Plate to Uruguay tomorrow. It was a lot more expensive than we expected, but the estuary is almost as wide as the English Channel, and the journey is fast, only an hour.

Reception found us a tango show with dinner for tonight, with transport, for half the price we'd seen on line and on the street - it goes on till after midnight so hopefully I can post that tomorrow!

After we'd got all that sorted I wanted to walk to Plaza del Mayo, via Florida, the pedestrian street where on our visit 10 years ago we'd seen happy families wandering watching all the tango dancers. Sadly it has changed. Now there are people touting for cheap burger bars, and instead of tango dancers there are, honestly, no exaggeration, hundreds of cambio - they just stand there, calling "cambio, money change", all the way down the street. (The hotel said they gave better rates than the shop they recommended, and though they were honest, it was dangerous as robbers were watching, so you'd not keep your money for long).

We then headed to Plaza del Mayo where all the demonstrations are held. My blip is of, in the background, the presidential palace where Evita would speak from the balcony, but more importantly for me, in the foreground is the painted headscarf dedicated to the Mothers of the Disappeared. These women came here every day throughout the 1980's, silently, in protest about the fact their sons had been taken by the military junta in the 1970's, and never heard of again. Last time there were hundreds of painted head scarfs here, but now they have worn away, and a few larger ones painted. In the area there were also some crosses and posters demanding justice for the conscripts of the Falklands war who were tortured by their own officers. By the economic ministry there was a demonstration going on - whatever it was about, it sounds a lot more exciting and passionate in Spanish.

We then wandered down by the marina and had a beer in the spring sunshine. It's been a lovely day!