Katfish Blues: Days 20 & 21

I went there. I actually went there. The internet-famous (and possibly other types of famous also) bookshop Ateneo Grand Splendid. It was indeed both grand and splendid.

Even the ceiling is magical!

So many reading lights!

Jeremy had been feeling a bit under the weather since yesterday, but he was determined to hit up the beers later on as it was a Saturday, so he stayed in to try and feel better while I went out exploring on my own. THB I think he just wanted an excuse to spend a whole afternoon playing with GarageBand on my iPad while I was out. After nerding out at the (Guardian ranked) second most magical bookshop in the world, I wandered down to the Saturday markets in Recoleta. These markets turned out to be smaller and pricier than the Sunday San Telmo market. On the other hand, I did get to see a lady selling a batch of kittens out of a cardboard box, and watch customers carry said kittens around while shopping (I was sorely tempted, but didn’t think that the nice Airbnb lady would approve of us keeping cats in her apartment, no matter how cute).

Once the sun set, Jeremy had recovered miraculously, so we headed out to check out the craft beer scene in San Telmo (our idea of a good night out, as we’re too old and not shitty enough to be into the oonce oonce scene). There are plenty more craft beer bars in Palermo, but because we were lazy, we decided to stick to the neighbourhood we were in so we didn’t have to try to Spanish our way home after several beers. First up, we hit up Bier Life for their happy hour. This place was incredible, with 30+ beers on tap, including those brewed in-house, locally by others, and international yumminess (Trappist ales ftw!). It works on a chip system like in a casino - you buy a chip for 65 pesos ($5.50AUD), then each chip gets you either a glass of beer or a tapas plate. Because it was happy hour, we got to claim another beer for free after we finished our first (making it effectively $2.75 per delicious glass). I had a creamy porter and a whiskey something-a-rather which tasted baconey, while Jeremy had the porter and a punch-in-the-face-with-hops IPA. We didn’t get to try any of their food, as we were determined to make it to the happy hour at Sexton Beer Company for a cheap pint + feed combo (for $11AUD). This little place is run by a friendly guy from Colorado who let Jeremy try all the beers he had while I was in the bathroom. Jeremy decided that it was in our best interests to both get the stout (everything else they hadn’t run out of was a bit average), as well as nachos (decent) and chicken wings (average) to share. After Sexton, we thought we had enough time to get to the happy hour at our next destination an “Irish” brewpub called the Breoghan. Turns out your sense of direction and walking speed is a bit affected by how much stout is in you. We got pints ($7AUD) anyway. It was good.

Bier is indeed life. Wow Jeremy's phone camera make me look even more yellow than I already am.

These wise words have so much truth after so much Quilmes

We woke up feeling less seedy than expected on day 21, and decided to go to the San Telmo markets again, as it was just a block away from us. The whole place was much more lively on a non-rainy day, although sweatiness levels meant that we didn’t hang around for as long as the first time round. Important lesson 1 from this day was that choripans make excellent hangover food, even if you’re not really that hungover.

Important lesson number 2 was that children should never be trusted with foam. That evening, we went to check out the Carnaval activities on offer in our neighbourhood. Carnaval in Buenos Aires is fairly different from its more famous Brazilian counterpart, consisting of less women endowed with many feathers and little clothing, and more… drumming and kids shooting each other and everyone else around with cans of foam. From what I understand, each neighbourhood puts together a “murga” team, each with a distinct costume and set of songs. In the weekends coming up to Carnaval, a number teams march around a certain area of the street to the beat of a bunch of marching-band-style drummers while singers on the stage sing what I imagine are things like “our neighbourhood is the best, yours is a bit crap” and thinly-veiled political insults. I went home very foamy, and with the “Murga murga murga” song from one group stuck firmly in my head for days.