The Teatro Colón, bitch. Oh, and Happy Thanksgiving.

It rained in Buenos Aires this morning. Amidst the constant horn honking, music blaring, and people talking, it was a nice addition to what has become my morning soundtrack. At breakfast, I met Ash. A young guy from New Zealand with bright pink hair, he's here to learn Spanish for fun. We bonded over how much we miss vegetables, as the Argentinian diet seems to mainly consist of bread, meat, cheese and pasta.

I wiled away the morning in my room, debating with myself on what to do. Obviously bike riding was out of the question, and Palarmo is too far to walk. Hunger finally drove me outside, where I tried to get into Cafe Tortoni a few blocks from the hostel. A major tourist trap, Cafe Tortoni is, nevertheless, the oldest cafe in the city. Founded in 1858, it still looks brand new. But there was a line down the sidewalk and I decided that I wasn't that desperate to see it. I went to the Cafe across the street, a more modern-looking place with a European vibe. They had a good menu and I got a coffee with cognac, chocolate and whipped cream. A table of three guys next to me were speaking pretty distinctly in English. One took a picture of the other two, and I pounced.

"Would you like a picture of all three of you?"
"Oh, yeah." Said one guy. "You speak really good English."
"I hope so, it's the only language I speak."

They were from Texas and here to hike and drive, in an extreme manner (EXTREME driving is a thing too, I guess). It was nice to speak full-on English again for a while. We chattered, and they left for their flight to the wild, blue yonder.

I meandered, just people watching. It occurred to me that one of the things I really love about this city is the juxtaposition of old and new. Everything is just a backdrop for something else from a different time, and yet it all seems to fit together. It's romantic.



I decided to spend the day indoors and walked to the Teatro Colón. A world famous opera house, the Teatro Colón is basically the entire reason they call Buenos Aires the Paris of South America. Guided tour tickets were a little pricey in my opinion, but my theatre background wouldn't let me back out so I ponied up.

Nauseatingly ornate at times, everything was made of marble and designed to mimic what was happening stylistically in France at the time (1889). Interestingly, the very famous architect in charge of the construction of the Colón was a little too busy, and his wife decided to entertain herself with their valet. Architect comes home and finds them together and, unfortunately for him, the valet was armed. Shot him dead, and the city had to find someone else, which is why it took 20 years to finish the damn thing.

See that? That's all real gold. One woman asked how much the Colón cost. His answer was no one knows. During that 20 years, Argentina went through two major financial crises where the peso fluctuated like crazy and, as a result, no one can calculate just how much money is in that building.

We couldn't take pictures inside the actual auditorium because they are opening Wagner's The Ring in a few days, which is funny because my friend Dave just gave me a Radiolab on The Ring a few weeks ago. They did, however, let us sit for a few minutes and watch the rehearsal. The set was very grey and modern, very Ayn Rand. We were lucky that just as we got up to leave, the orchestra burst into Flight of the Valkyrie. Considering our surroundings, it felt very fitting.

I'm thankful to be here, and thankful to have people back home. I probably love you all. Eat lots of food for me (specifically vegetables), and know that I miss you guys.