Days 22 & 23 - Fun vs shit for tourists to do

Buenos Aires in the summertime is a humid, sweaty mess, so we have been spending the large part of most days inside our nice air-conned and fast-wified apartment having quality Katharine and Jeremy time (i.e. sleep, binge-watch Broad City, more sleep), and venturing out only to forage for food. So instead of dying in the daytime heat on day 22, we decided to head out for evening activities (on a Monday, of all days). Apparently the thing to do on a Monday night in Buenos Aires is to go and watch a show called “Bomba del Tiempo”, a drum circle so glorified that it has been seen by over 3 million people. This took place in a sweet outdoor theatre complex/gig venue thingy called the Ciudad Cultural Konex. After emerging from the subway, we easily found the venue by following the crowd of people milling about, the random dudes illicitly selling beers out of chilly bins on the street, and the smell of pot (bloody drum circle hippies…). The crowd at the gig seemed to be ⅓ tourists, ⅓ super young student types (ahh, to be young and out on a monday night…), and ⅓ locals our age and older. This venue boasted a super efficient bar selling whole litres of beer for about $10 AUD, and an amazing bartender that looked like Brett from Flight of the Concords who could pour a litre of beer into a cup without creating ANY head while taking no shits from people who tried to cut the line. The show itself was EPIC. I thought I’d get bored after 2 hours of drumming, but I was entertained the whole time and had a good (mild) boogie. The drummers took turns conducting, and even involved special guests who I assumed were famous Argentine musicians. This was definitely a fun experience as a tourist.

Lights!


Crap photo, good band

On day 23, we finally caved in and decided to check out Caminito, the famous street in the ex-working class suburb of La Boca that features on so many postcards and travel guides of Buenos Aires (see first photo at the top of this post). After walking for half an hour in the horrific sun, we arrived in a picturesque colourful street and were immediately pelted from all directions by tango-dancing touts wanting us to pay to take photos with them or buy their shitty souvenirs. This, plus the oppressive humidity, was way too much for us to handle, so we sought haven in the safety of a restaurant with air conditioning. There, Jeremy was served the worst steak in the world. It was an insult to steaks everywhere, masquerading as a bife de chorizo. We escaped from this shitty suburb without delay after snapping some pictures. In contrast to yesterday, this is the kind of shitty tourist trap that is hardly worth enduring only for a couple of “iconic” photos.

This was not the Restaurant of Grave Disappointment, but I wouldn't be surprised it wasn't great either


Creepy fake pope watches over his tourist trap


At least the colours were pretty...