Buenos Aires - Day 8 (El Fin)

Unplanned last lesson with maestro first thing after we woke up. I wore sneakers and sweatpants for the first time in the history of my tango lessons. While one was having a lesson, the other packed. To save that precious time that was already racing... Then ready to go out for a nice lunch and some last minute shopping at the street market in Palermo on Plazoleta Cortazar.

We had caught a glimpse of a charming restaurant with a beautiful chandelier on the way back from Bar Uriarte in Palermo a few days ago and meant to go back, so we figured now might be a good time. But on the way there changed our minds on a whim and decided on Olson, as we never made it for brunch there on the weekend before. Amazing! The place was so nice, modern Scandinavian theme and food. We were seated on a very low and comfy leather couch in front of a Scandinavian open fireplace (not working on such a nice summer day, thankfully), which was perfect, as we were really tired from last night and needed to relax. I then spotted the bartender preparing this very soft green smoothie-looking drink. Since Olsen is known for its over 50 vodka selections, it was not hard to guess what was in it. But we had to have our champagne first and get into our usual giggly mood. Sure enough, we hadn't so much had a few sips each, when it started. We couldn't stop laughing. Again. Our cute waiter (they were ALL cute) tried his best to help with the food selection, but his looks were far better than his English, so we were still in the dark when we ordered - I decided on something with eggs and shrimp, and Eva chose some kind of chicken dish. But when the food came (by which time we were getting progressively merrier and more relaxed and were almost lying on the couch) - it not only had great presentation, but was absolutely delicious! Crispy potatoes, eggs and shrimp bruschetta (who thought this could taste so good?!), chicken milanese, chicken salad with walnuts, and fresh bagels. After this feast, it was time to try the green drink. Some back and forth with the waiter later (I was trying to explain that we want to try the bebida verde!), it came and let's just say it was so strong that it got both Eva and I pretty tipsy in no time! We started on our laughing kick again, and this time there was no stopping us. We let ourselves be in this wondrous oblivion for a while, savoring our last Buenos Aires moments...

We left Olsen and tried to find the market. Not easy. Try to sort out where you are going on a tiny map after champagne and green vodka drink... We couldn't really focus on the task at hand and kept walking in what we thought was the right direction. All of a sudden Spanish was pouring out of Eva, it must be true that everything you learn does come through at some point! She was naming whatever we saw on the way, including a homeless dog - not without a significant sense of revelation she exclaimed "Pero!!". We couldn't really walk, we were laughing so hard. We almost lost one of her flip-flops, twice. Then all of a sudden, we found ourselves in front of the chandelier restaurant - Bardot! Snapped a picture of the cross streets, why bother remember… We will definitely come next time. Wandered about a bit, then finally saw the market. We did pretty well for the 20 minutes we had left before we absolutely had to head back to the apartment to meet Eugenia and leave the keys.

We did the last bit of packing left and Eugenia came. She said “You tried our ice-cream, no?” No. We hadn’t gotten to that, there is only so much time in the day, you know... So she suggested we go get some from Persicco across the street to eat on the way to the airport. We had to! The best ice-cream in town. I ran over there while Eva was taking care of the last details with Eugenia. Little did I know what I was in for. This has got to be the biggest ice-cream shop/cafe I have seen. With countless flavors and unknown to me rituals. Some of which I was just about to learn. The hard way. Somehow I managed to pay for a quarto of helado and was then pointed in the direction of the counter where they prepare yor order. You take a number and wait for it to flash on a screen. Who said that ordering ice-cream would be easy? I patiently waited browsing at all the flavors listed (most of which I was clueless about) but was confident enough as I knew we wanted dulce de leche. Simple enough, you would think. The second I pronounced dulce de leche (I must have said it the Italian way ) the guy who was serving me looked at me with disbelief, then burst out laughing uncontrollably. He had to then go and tell the rest of the guys working there what he had just heard, by which time I was beet red with embarrassment and lost every hope that I will actually walk out of there with what I came for. So they had a good laugh and still giggling he started to ask me a series of progressively harder questions - nuts or no nuts, brownies or no brownies, more flavors, strawberry with cream or strawberry with water, cover or no cover, should he pack it with dry ice if I was going far, spoon, how many spoons? I wanted to scream 'Just give me the damn ice-cream and let me go!', but I couldn't so much as shake my head for a yes or no in response. I must have had the most bewildered look in history. He must have taken pity on me - on my way out I noticed he had actually given me a much bigger box that I had ordered. Lesson learned - I have to learn that language, there is no way around it. If nothing else was a motivation strong enough, that did it. I have got to be able to order some ice cream without being utterly embarrassed! Granted it's a ritual over there, but still!

Eva was already waiting in a cab in front of the building (poor thing had to lug down my enormous suitcase too), wondering what happened to me... Hugged Eugenia good bye and got in the car, holding the precious box of ice cream, starting to feel sadder by the minute. We rode in silence, eating dulce de leche con nueces, strawberry and lemon ice-cream as we were watching neighborhoods change on the way to the airport. Sad. Really.

We got there on time, unfortunately. As we were waiting in the check-in line, I turned to Eva and said, "I wonder why there isn't a milonga at the airport - in some small corner, while waiting for your flight, you could go for a last tanda..." Everyone else would of course have marvelled at how one can come up with something like this, but Eva simply looked at me and whispered, "I was just thinking that."