Saints of Buenos Aires

We found ourselves in San Telmo. Hallelujah! Back in BA, we were keen to meet up with Sir Gringo, my brother- a true force to be reckoned with- and his wild woman, Miss Chelle. The two were en-route from Australia to Ushuaia in Argentina’s south, where they would then set sail to our planet’s most southern desert, Antarctica. What legends. Entrepid travel does seem to run in the family. Given this wild adventure was nigh upon them, it seemed fitting to spend these precious pre-sea voyage days in San Telmo, the barrio named after the Patron Saint of Seafarers. Arghhhhhh!

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To be honest, the seafaring-ness of San Telmo wasn’t starkly obvious to me. Besides the drunks who wander its cobble-stoned streets and stagger with sea-like legs, San Telmo is more of an inner city enclave than anything oceanic. It’s a beautiful, ageing beast. With a grandeur that has long since faded, its impressive architecture and weathered walls draw crowds of tourists and artists to its quarters. We loved this place.

Our home was a a reformed warehouse with huge timber slabs for floorboards, kitchen surfaces that were once carpenters’ workbenches and the high walls, decorated with cinematic artwork, made it all the more funky. It was a space spilling with natural light and somehow, its 4th floor windows were wrapped up in greenery and vines. A soothing touch to contrast those industrial edges.

Suffice to say, when we were done wandering miles of markets or admiring tango dancers as they busked in the plazas, this arty loft gave us cool, air-conditioned refuge from the hot streets of San Telmo.

We nailed a few on-foot adventures through various barrios like the famous La Boca, and we loved our trip up to Tigre with its Venice-like canals, but truth be told, our AirBnB home was where it was at. The city’s sights were great, but it was the second time my brother had spent time with his nephew, and the first time Miss Chelle got to fall in love with our little saint. While we are often marveling at the sights, sounds and flavours of these places we visit, the truth is, there is still so much marveling of young Atlas to be done. To share his smiles, chuckles, cuddles and ever-growing personality with family, well, that is a journey in itself. And so it was: steak feasts at home were the flavour of the week, uncle Gringo took Finn on magic carpet rides across the slippery floorboards and off course, Witty taught Finn to dance the puppet tango.  When in San Telmo…

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