**Sorry for the lag, ya’ll! I know none of you are exactly waiting with bated breath for these newsletters, but I have dropped off in the last month, and I apologize! Will try to make up for it in the coming weeks :)**

On the hunt for that BCE

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. I’m a city girl, tried and true. But very soon after embarking on this journey, I realized that cities were not going to be the main attraction on my trip. That’s not to say I haven’t appreciated the many capitals and urban centers I’ve been to down here … it’s just that I know no city in South America will ever hold a candle to mine. 

Or so I thought. At three months in, I was beginning to miss New York. Enough time had passed to make the little luxuries of home seem quite distant, and I noticed the first signs of withdrawal starting to come on. But thankfully, my symptoms had a cure: Buenos Aires. 

This city may be called the “Paris of South America,” but it reminded me just as much of NYC. Because, like the Big Apple, Buenos Aires has that same big city energy (which, for the purposes of this blog, I’ll call BCE 😉). I started to feel it one night at a bar in the trendy, graffitied neighborhood of Palermo. Skimming through a menu of high-end cocktails amidst old-time, apothecary-themed decor, I could easily have been in the East Village. The energy only grew stronger when I visited world-class institutions like el Museo de Arte Lationamericano de Buenos Aires (MALBA) and Teatro Colón—establishments that are right up there with the Whitney and the Met Opera House. And a few days later, the BCE became completely undeniable as I strolled through the Battery Park-esque Puerto Madero. Walking by the inviting cervecerias and waterfront restaurants, and watching the many runners, rollerbladers, couples, and kids enjoying the day, I had an overwhelming feeling that I was back at home, meandering down the West Side Highway. A few minutes later, a saxophone-playing street performer confirmed it—bursting into a soulful rendition of “New York, New York” at the exact moment I passed by. I could have cried from happiness. 

So, where does it come from?

The BCE that exists across both BA and NYC can be attributed to a few key factors. First, like New York, the city of good winds is incredibly cosmopolitan, attracting people from different cultures and countries. At its height of immigration in the 19th century (which was encouraged by a wealthy oligarchy), 52 percent of the city’s population were immigrants. A majority came from Italy, but there were also other Europeans—like the Spanish, Irish, and Germans—who made the voyage. And today, Buenos Aires continues to attract people from all parts of the world, including many South American countries, too. The result? Buenos Aires is essentially a melting pot … a place where this super white, dirty-blonde traveller finally flew under the radar (one woman even asked me for directions, as if I were a local!). After sticking out as a very obvious gringa in nearly every other country I’ve been to, blending in was a beautiful thing.

Now, let’s talk transportation—a key ingredient in any serious city. Out of all the stops I’ve frequented in South America, Buenos Aires has the best transit infrastructure by far. First things first, there’s a metro (which some major capitals, like Bogota and Quito, lack … crazy!). And while the system isn’t as extensive as the NYC subway, the trains are prompt and clean … which, for this New Yorker, felt like a real upgrade. But what if the subway doesn’t go to a certain neighborhood? Fear not. The bus has you covered. Unlike in La Serena, Chile, where I waited at unmarked bus stops and flagged down drivers from the side of the road; or in La Paz, where 1980s vans-turned-collectivos run chaotically with written destinations instead of numbers/routes; or in Santa Marta, Colombia, where pasajeros squished like sardines hang out of the open doors of moving vehicles, while a ticket man squeezes through to take your cash—the buses in Buenos Aires feel organized, safe, and manageable. Plus, there’s the ferry that takes you to nearby Uruguay, and a domestic airport that’s less than 20 minutes from downtown (along with an international hub farther out, as well). Whether by land, by air, or by sea—Buenos Aires’ transportation is truly top-notch.

And then there’s the architecture. Buildings that rival some of the prettiest in Europe. Detailed facades that will make your neck hurt from always looking up. Structures that stun and surprise at every street corner. There’s Greek Parthenon-like churches. Ornately decorated office buildings commissioned by Italian businessmen. Apartments with Art Deco designs. Oh, and you can see French style everywhere. Like the population of the city itself, Buenos Aires’ architecture is a patchwork of influences and eras. On any given calle, there could be a depressing eyesore from the 1970s situated right next to a beautiful, grandiose hotel from the 20s. My tour guide called it “eclectic.” I call it BCE.

Just like home

Of course, it wasn’t just these three factors that made me nostalgic for big city living. There were also little moments that I didn’t even realize I had missed. Here, I had my first bagel in more than four months (and stocked up on sushi, too). Here, I visited real grocery stores, instead of buying produce at vibrant (albeit questionably clean) markets. Here, I could exercise without feeling like I was the only jogger on the sidewalk (… even though I never did).

But the one thing that made Buenos Aires truly feel like home? My mom. Having her here with me for a week (and another in Chile and Mendoza) was like a much needed dose of medicine. Her visit made time irrelevant, turning the past three months into three minutes. It was like I was back in Summit (or Morristown, now)—but with better dining options and less English. Everything was just as it’s always been. We laughed. We fought. We explored. We relaxed. Through it all, my mom was an A+ travel companion, always up for anything—whether it was an eight-hour bus ride through the Andes, a day trip to a new country (Uruguay), or a (boozy? just kidding) bike ride down a busy road to visit various vineyards. And at the end of the day, it’s not really about the places—it’s about the people. My mom made Buenos Aires feel less like another pin in the map and more like a place that I could grow roots … at least for a week or two. 

Hard to leave

Actually, I spent almost three full weeks in Buenos Aires. It felt immediately comfortable—and that made leaving infinitely more difficult. But still, part of me missed the rush of the unfamiliar, the new, the unknown. After all, that’s what makes travel exciting … and sometimes addicting. So where to next? In a few days, I’ll swap South America for Southeast Asia. Headed to Thailand via London on November 3rd. If you need to reach me, I’ll be on the beach.

Con cariño,

Caroline