Good Airs

Two days merged into one long one as I boarded a bus in Montevideo at 3am to truck me and a load of others to Colonia, from where it's a ferry ride across the River Plate to the enticing experiences of Buenos Aires, one of the world's most alluring cities. Minor obstacle when exiting Uruguay to enter Argentina as the border official flicked fruitlessly through my passport for my entry stamp. It seems the electronic gates in Montevideo do slip you in under the radar.

Sleep deprivation affected my brain at the ferry terminal. During a bemused exchange with friends at home about why news outlets care what brand of trousers Prince Harry's fiancée is wearing, Clare, also going into labour at this point summed the situation up nicely: 'I literally couldn't give a sh*t what Harry and Markle are up to let alone what they're wearing when they're doing it'. I collapsed in hysterics.

I've wanted to come to Buenos Aires for many years. Prior to this trip the online advice was to avoid it between November and February as it's 'oppressively hot'. This is perfect for my needs. Buenos Aires translates as 'fair winds' or 'good airs', and the early morning felt balmy and wonderful as I entered the city's streets.

Notices on arrival warn travellers that semen is banned as an import, presumably only when externally carried. Many shops advertise opening hours of '25h!' yet seemed closed at 7am. I saw dedicated shops for both Huggies nappies and the Argentine national lottery.

I've resigned myself to needing around one hundred coffees today, thanks to the overnight travel. On arrival I headed for breakfast at a classic saloon bar, which was a perfect slow start with freshly squeezed orange juice, charming service and delicious fare.

Buenos Aires seems packed full of sights that in other cities would be the main show-stopper. As I had to wait to check in I wandered for hours, drinking in the flavour of the city. My feet are weeping rather than thanking me and there was a semi-successful conversation with a pharmacist as I don't want immobility to prevent full exploration of somewhere I've wanted to visit for so long. I've resolved to carry Compeed whenever I travel to such arduous destinations as Buenos Aires.

The number of blond/e people in Argentina is a surprise, and the fact that the look is Southern European on the whole is useful as I can blend in unmolested. Spanish has a great word, molestar, used as the English would use 'bother', not in the more specific ghoulish way that we use 'molest'.

The pigeons in Buenos Aires are huge and the parakeets in the parks noisy. Ninety year old men sit at window seats in old brown cafeterias that have been serving empanadas to the same people for decades.

San Telmo, the district where I'm staying, is one of the oldest, with tramlines decaying into the cobbles. It's renowned for its antiques shops and general tourist draws, which in turn draw waiters who jump out at passersby as they do so skilfully at Greek tavernas.

The image is at the Japanese Garden, an excellent haven in the city where I sat on a bench, contemplated life and enjoyed the innocent excitement of children exclaiming ¡que bonito! about the terrapins and gigantic koi carp.