viernes

Exploring Palermo Soho I pass all the boutiques who advertise in the glossy Argentine magazines or on billboards strategically placed along the exit road from the airport. Two blocks away the streets are sleepy and slow, but between Plaza Serrano and Plaza Palermo Viejo things are humming. Last night, I ventured out around 11 to find a steak and a beer, and the hum had elevated to a low rumble. The steak came with pepper and papas fritas, the beer came in a pinta tirada, and the people came with more people. They pulled up in black and yellow cabs, and their appetite for conversation tumbled out after them. Walking around the Plaza means walking through the cafes, which gobble up most of the sidewalk, and every outdoor seat was taken. There was no competition for tables indoors, though, where you seat yourself and the servers take good care of you.

In the daylight, everything is fresh and there’s a touch of delicacy to the late summer afternoon. I’m working without a net—looking for somewhere to eat without a guide book—but I execute a quintuple pirhouette with an umbrella balanced on my nose when I choose Freud and Fahler (I was unconsciously swayed by the psychoanalytic restaurant connection), whitewashed on the outside, and separated from a warehouse by a transparent interior partition. In addition to the excellent food (the faina tastes rich as paté), I meet two Stanford MBAs from the next table when I ask them how much I should tip. They’re on their way back to California and leave me with their creased and tattered tip sheet, an email from a local with lots of inside information about the city. I’ve been surprised that many of the people I’ve pegged as North American or European tourists are speaking Spanish among themselves, and they could very well be travellers from other Latin American countries, but more likely it’s a testament to the leisurely way Argentines spend their holiday. With postprandial shots of Absolut at 4 PM, if my fellow diners are any indication.