A couple of afternoons later, Mick phoned. Me being out at the time again exploring the fabulous beauty of Belle Époque Buenos Aires, the Briton left a message to meet. Not where we’d first crossed. No. At an address I suspected housed some likely blind tiger. One west of my apartment. Maybe it was in Once. All the times I’ve visited Buenos Aires I’ve barely been cognizant of respective neighborhoods. Except for Boca. The locals, especially trendy girls, had such demarcations ingrained in them.

Vast a metropolis as BA is, when done through targeted explorations the city is quite walkable. Its melded blocks contrast nicely against distinct enclaves.

I spent little time nor exerted much effort in government or commercial zones. Not one to be cowed or impressed amid edifices initially erected to serve the people but now exist to make them bow. Continue reading This Is not a Submarine but Scheme-a-Rama →