From Pizza To Peron

After only one meal in Buenos Aires, Karen and I were already feeling the meat coma setting in. Something had to be done. We couldn't overload on steak. We had to keep the beef buzz going over the course of the next week!

So, after a paradilla lunch at La Cabrera, we settled on another classic Argentine fare for dinner - pizza.

We hailed a Radio Taxi from our uber-hip Palermo Soho district hotel and for a mere $5 US took a 20-minute ride to one of the city's favorite Italian hot spots, Filo. It wasn't fancy in the least, but frankly that was just what we wanted.

And so was the lightly dressed salad, followed by a small thin-crust pizza topped with a brightly acidic tomato sauce, anchovies, olives and mozzarella cheese, as well as another pie graced with tomatoes, artichoke hearts, slivers of proscuitto and melted mozz.

It was all delicious. Still, we couldn't finish it.

BA was wiping us out for the count. But we persevered. We made our way back to Palermo Soho for a pit stop at Bar Uriarte for a couple of cocktails and the chance to flirt with the restaurant's muy guapo DJ, who was spinning Motown in our soulful honor.

With the strains of the "Jackie Brown" soundtrack still running through our heads, we headed back to Mine Hotel and slept the sleep of exhausted turisticas.

In the AM we were ready to hit the town once again. First up, the flea market in San Telmo, chock-a-block with handmade ponchos, old seltzer bottles, antique silver sets, jewelry from someone's abuela and an amazing selection of gaucho leather gear, including heavy duty bolos.

Karen and I weren't swayed by the bric-a-brac (although there was an undeniable appeal to the bolos). So, we marched on. This time in search of contemporary culture at one of the city's finest museums, the Malba. A modern gem, brimming with Latin American art, we took in works by artists that ranged from Frida Kahlo to Fernando Botero -- with a stop for Cafe Con Leche thrown in for good measure.

We had one more museum to hit before we could call it a day.

Yes, we went to the Museo Evita to view the history, wardrobe and propaganda that was Eva Peron.

We didn't exactly leave humming "Don't Cry For Me Argentina," but somehow we were feeling like that evening we might just be able to handle another steak dinner, preferably bloody rare and with a side dish of adorable waiters.

Clearly, here in BA, there would be no need to cry for us.

Comments

[joaquin ochoa]

I love that about Sur America...their pizza is a bit more rustic. Look at those olives...they are just thrown on there in no particular order...holla!