So the 15 mile day begins like most else, except we don’t have breakfast and I wear my approach shoes. We started off by heading for LV Studios where Holly was going to sign up for spanish classes, but we go to the wrong place, have to return home, look up the address, and head to the other side of the city. No problem, easy enough. We get there no problem, sign up for class, fork over the $1200 pesos for the week, and head on our way with hopes of returning later for a mix and meet social kind of thing with other people learning spanish, etc etc. We leave with the remaining $100 pesos that we had after paying for Holly’s class and head on our way. We didn’t really think much of it because we had our subway card and didn’t want to spend more than that on dinner or whatever so we go on with our day and headed east towards the water. By the time we actually get there, my feet already hurt simply from the way my shoes are. I knew they weren’t the most comfy when I decided to bring them, but I figured they would break in more as I wore them and were light for actual hiking, yadda yadda yadda, I regret it. Anyways, so we get to the water, offically Puerto Madero, decide to forego street food thinking we would pick something up a little closer to our destination, and begin our walk south to La Boca. Now both Holly and I had read plenty about La Boca and heard mostly that it was a great little spot with colorful buildings and a rich history and that, so naturally it was on our list of places to see. When we finally hit the south end of Puerto Madero, we had to do a hop/skip/step under an interstate and down some train tracks to get into the northern part of La Boca proper. It turns out that the North East corner is the nicest part. After the train tracks, we found ourselves among a bunch of high-rises that seemed to be fairly new and were painted all different colors, classic Boca, with streets that were well maintained and commons areas that were pleasant enough. As we continued on, we found ourselves in a different place. Soon enough, the newish high-rises melted into a crappy-ish looking neighborhood that reminded us of our least favorite places in the city. We passed a harbinger baby of doom that someone felt appropriate to leave out on the street in a stroller while going about their business in a little super market, but hey Argentina is a different place and who are we to judge. After consulting the map a few times, we finally hit the streets were looking for and made our way down towards El Caminito, which is the classic street in La Boca that draws all of the tourists. Before we get there though, another harbinger; we pass these two guys on the street who say, “welcome to La Bocaaaaaaaa” in the way that you would expect from someone who knew better than you about where you were going. It was like, “Going to hell? You’re gonna love it ; )! ” So after not getting mugged, we finally made it to El Caminito and for a second I thought it was going to be awesome. There was music and 100 times more people than we had seen all day and it showed promise of being fun. We looked at each other and smiled as if to say “we finally made it;” but that was interrupted by some jackwaggon trying to get us to take pictures with his tango dancers. After kindly refusing, we moved along the little road to find that the only people there were also jackwaggons. Every step we took we seemed to encounter someone touting their business or offering picture opportunities with authentic tango actors. Holly and I still haven’t eaten, my feet are about to fall off, and we are terribly grumpy. All we want to do is sit and have a cheap meal with the $100 pesos that we have left and get out of there. We finally allow a jackwaggon to get us a table at a quaint tango bar. I wish I had a picture of how bad it was. He sat us right next to the stage, and a couple of italians. While sharing the table with these Italians, I had the feeling that everyone in the dining area was totally disillusioned and was buying into this supremely fake area of Buenos Aires and having a great time. I couldn’t tell if I was jealous or disgusted. We left regardless and decided to leave La Boca without eating. After dodging a couple more sketchy/terrible street corners and vendors, we passed a perfectly terrible looking indoor market and decided to wander in and see if there was any cheap quick eats. The only place with people was a little parilla in the back corner. Short story short, it was pretty bad but we were so hungry by that point it didn’t matter. The chorizo was dinky and as bland as the chicken and Holly found the vacio exceptionally chewy,* but the Quilmes was cold and that’s all that really mattered at that point. We paid, left, and never looked back. We did get to pass by the Futbol stadium which was as massive as the high-rise slum/projects surrounding it. It was terrifying to think about where we were, so we got the hell out of there while the sun was still up. Our return home was just as long as the journey there but much more pleasant with full bellies although my feet were still throbbing.

Battery is about to die. stay tuned for part 2.