Its almost the start of a joke, but not quite....just the beginning of another mis-adventure in Argentina. Except replace "into a bar" with "aimlessly wandering and lost around the graffiti riddled streets of Buenos Aires at 2:00 in the morning". Starting from yesterday, here's how it went....
D's Theory of "Self Selecting" in Adventures
Stealing the words of my fellow adventurer "D", the most awesome character trait about mis adventures (whether they're camping trips, backpacking trips, or hostels) is the "self selecting factor" that keeps them interesting. By this, I mean most situations in life appeal to a certain type of personality. The more off the beaten path you get, the more eccentric the personality usually has to be to take part in the madness. This becomes awesome when you enter a fairly eccentric situation because it tends to bring in the same type of people creating an insane dynamic. It happens all the time...on sports teams (jocks) in science classes (nerds) in San Diego (hippies) and in Venice Beach (crackheads.....just playin). Eventually, if you're doing something you're truly drawn to, you'll end up surrounded with people that have more in common with you than not. For my situation here in Buenos Aires its no exception...here's why...
And I accidentally picked one of the top 10 worst places in the world to try and be sober....
I'm staying at the Millhouse Hostel. In my frantic last minute planning, I actually did something right (completely by accident, mind you). If you google "Millhouse Hostel Buenos Aires" you'll find that it is listed as one of the top 10 party hostels in the world. I definitely didn't realize this planning. Now that doesn't mean everyone staying here is a party junkie (only about 96%), it does mean they're adventurous. The Aussie fella next to me just finished talking about how he had food poisoning twice in one week, but he thinks its because they went a bit off trail in the Amazon. That was in addition to alcohol poisoning, but he'll still be at the Tango lesson tonight. Pretty much every personality here is like that. The conditions here aren't the best, but the bar is fully stocked, the Spanish music is playing 24/7, and the board of non-degenerate activities is constantly being updated. Most of the people here are studying Spanish and Portuguese in their few free minutes, and everyone was out and about by 12 today even though most didn't stumble in until 7 AM this morning. There are a ton of solo travelers who decided to quit their jobs back home and made this trip some kind of phoenix re-birth. The hostel itself is interesting on its own....the city of Buenos Aires is a whole different beast that I'm just scratching the surface on. It feels like a cross between the raw, gritty nature of Eastern Europe combined with the passion, culture, and style of the Spanish and Italians. The food is amazing. The women are beautiful. The ambiance is great. You NEED to do this. But for now, back to the story.
And MY story continues
It all started yesterday with the idea to take a nap so I wouldn't be outdone by the rhythm gifted Brazilian chicas that litter this place. As I walked up stairs I could hear the music, the crowd getting louder, and realized that NO ONE was in their rooms. As one of two Americans here....I couldn't be "that guy"....and I'm not about to be outdone by any Brits. I showered up and headed down to the in hostel bar/lounge area to rejoin the other American fella hear and a cute French girl who'd joined the group. While we're swapping stories another girl from Brooklyn who'd just flown in sits down with the group, as did a model-esque looking German girl. All of which happened with in minutes....self selection in action. The chatter went on until we realized it was time to leave now and eat before the wine started flowing at the hostel (every night at around 8:30, the first floor of the hostel turns into a club, unless some other event is planned), or just go with the flow. The final verdict is have our first experience at an Argentinean Steak House and then come back and join the party. This little trek started at around 8:00.
The other American guy is a zealous one. Talkative, very energetic, and has a slight case of ADD. By slight, I mean a s#*tload. He swears up and down that he knows exactly where this place is....I smell the calamity cooking, as do the girls, so we let it ride. Now, one side note. I read in the guidebooks that one should avoiding walking around Buenos Aires after dark, avoid dimly lit ares (common sense), places that locals avoid at night and various barrios. Fast forward to 15 minutes later. So, the 4 of us are walking down a long stretch road.....which for about 3 blocks has all the streetlights out. I make a comment to the people walking with me that I've got a general rule of not being the only one walking on a dimly lit street riddled with graffiti in a foreign country when I don't have anything to protect myself with. (Which was exactly what the situation was).
The Jewish girl pipes back that "if anything happens, we're running".
I give a surprised look and say "haha, so you think you can outrun a bullet or something?"
Her response, "No, WE're running....you have to stay back and fight of the guys. You're a Marine right?"
"I said I WAS a Marine once upon a time. I'm just a backpacker, plus I didn't drag us into this shady neighborhood...and what about him?"
"Look at him....do you really think we can expect him to help? We'll just make him an honorary girl....you're stuck."
This conversation was stopped when our French girl randomly walks up to two guys hanging on the side of the dimly lit street to ask directions. At this point I remember how interesting it is to be that one unpredictable one in the group....but when the entire group is unpredictable, this is really new territory. And this was supposed to be a slow night. After a couple minutes of waiting by just in case things got sour too quick, the French girl comes back explaining that one of them was actually a cop and that she layered on the accent, cranked up the flirtatiousness, and gave the "pour little French girl" routine to get them to write out our directions home. Apparently she uses that tool a lot, and it worked pretty damn well....looked like something from a movie. I'm not even mad....I'm kind of impressed. So, that good idea changed the entire direction our night was taking us in (which come to find out was actually opposite of where we needed to go and towards those barrios that the guidebook warned about).
The walk home was fun. A few exchange of thoughts and stories. Apparently, these kind of adventures are common for most of this group...and the rest of the hostel. I think I have new recommendations for the "Scumbag Council" upon return. Sometime in this whole adventure, we made it to a restaurant and had fairly decent yet cheap Argentine steak served by an extremely animated waiter that reminded me of actors from the "novela" soap operas on telemundo. The American couple that sat next to us told about how they were pick-pocketed today by two motorcycle riders working together who nearly ran over the wife, then helped her up and simultaneously pick pocketed here. We added a bottle of wine to our meal for good measure. Remember how we left at 8PM? By the time we got back, it was going on 3AM and the remnants of the hostel party were all of the place. Straws and alcoholic mud and glasses all over the floor. I think a pair of shorts too...I can't remember. The left over Brazilians were singing national songs at the top of their lungs. Most of the hostel was standing in front of the hostel (in the middle of the street) hailing taxes to head as a group to the club. The odd part.....this was a Monday. Monday is the slowest night of the week for these people. Apparently Tuesday is the wild...and dangerous day. Today is Tuesday. I think things might get interesting...again. And I planned for this to be a mild night, so at least I got that. As for the night, I was wiped, so was the rest of my hodge podge group....so we swapped email addresses and all called it a night. Most of us hadn't slept except for a few hours on a flight the night before....and the French girl was supposed to fly out at 5 AM, so she was just trying to stay awake. And that was my first day in Buenos Aires. Tonight....free Tango lessons at the hostel at 8:30, then most of the hostel is migrating across town to the sister hostel for a pre-party....and at 2:30, the night begins....again. I think I'm really starting to like this city.
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