Unexpected Adventures in Buenos Aires: A Travel Tale

Buenos Aires was supposed to be a strong finish to my Sportslink International tour of South America. After weeks moving through Santiago, Córdoba, and Montevideo, this was meant to be the place for steaks and tango, long nights, and wandering the streets. Instead, it became a blur of sickness, room service, and Netflix in bed while my body staged a full-blown rebellion.

The first twinge of something viral hit on our travel day from Montevideo. I didn’t have the usual pep in my step as I strolled through the historic centre of Colonia, our stopover before crossing the mighty Río de la Plata. Officially Colonia del Sacramento, this southwestern Uruguayan city was founded by the Portuguese in 1680. Wandering its charming, tree-lined, cobbled streets, I knew something wasn’t right as I had no motivation to browse the shops full of lovely wool garments and knick-knacks.

We arrived at The Savoy Hotel, Buenos Aires, on the night of August 20th. Apart from a walk across the road to the pharmacy to stock up on everything they’d sell me, I didn’t leave the room again until the 23rd. The intervening days were filled with fever, endless sleep, and, during the rare awake moments, a marathon of Is This Cake on Netflix. I can report that The Savoy’s rooms are very comfortable when you’re ill.

Convinced I was no longer contagious, I hauled myself out of bed on August 23rd for the All Blacks vs. Los Pumas match. Our pre-match day started with lunch at San Albano, a sports club on the outskirts of the city. While it hosts hockey, tennis, and even cricket (a surprise), it’s mostly known for rugby. Set on expansive park-like grounds, it boasts a lovely clubhouse with a bar and restaurant where we had lunch. I wasn’t up for alcohol, so I sipped the red wine provided out of politeness while nibbling the sausages placed before us. We thought that was lunch, but no, an enormous steak with fries followed, and then dessert, which I can barely recall thanks to a monumental food coma.

After lunch, we drove to the stadium and eventually settled into our “seats”, a generous term, as they were uncomfortable, narrow and were squeezed together, with thin aisles for vendors to dash up and down, heedless of anyone they bumped on their way. The rugby didn’t go our way, but the spectacle was brilliant: marching bands, lots of singing (mostly taking digs at the English, which we’d have missed without our guide, and hey, we aren’t English…), and ecstatic home fans celebrating their first victory over the All Blacks in Buenos Aires.

The next day, the group headed to the Tigre Delta. My stomach, possibly still recovering from mega doses of vitamin C, begged to stay behind. By lunchtime, I felt well enough for a walk. Buenos Aires, known as the “Paris of South America” for its architecture, wide boulevards, lush parks, and café culture, has one thing Paris doesn’t: tango. On a sunny winter Sunday, I stumbled across dancers performing for fun, promotion, or busking. I meandered to San Telmo Market, browsing without buying anything, then decided to keep going to La Boca, which the group had visited while I hovered between life and death.

I vaguely remembered my husband warning me that La Boca was “a bit dodgy” and something about football, but after 24 years of marriage, not every word sticks. Google now confirms: La Boca is generally unsafe, though Caminito, the main tourist area, is relatively safe during the day, thanks to crowds. Petty crime and scams are common; avoid straying from Caminito, especially after dark, and use rideshares and don’t walk in from another area.

Walking in from another area, I focused on the bright blue and yellow stadium that seemed to guide me. The scent of asado, Argentinian barbecue, wafted from street-side grills, mingling with crowds of people milling about. Soon, police on motorbikes appeared, steel barriers were moved across side streets, and football fans in matching blue and yellow began to emerge. I started to feel nervous, did a quick “fit check” to see if I’d inadvertently picked the opposition’s colours, and plugged Caminito into Google Maps, trying to look as harmless as possible while navigating closed-off streets away from the stadium.

Caminito is a visual feast: brightly painted houses, performers, and street artists everywhere. I wandered, taking it all in while keeping a wary eye on my belongings. Exhausted from both walking and hyper-vigilance, I finally called an Uber back to the sanctuary of The Savoy for our group’s final night dinner. Did I get the best out of the city? No. Am I glad it gives me a reason to return? Absolutely.

The end.

Did you know I also write romantic comedy travel fiction? You can grab a free novella, A Brief Tale, to give it a try: Click HERE

A BRIEF TALE

Lost underwear. A locked bus compartment. And a hangover that could kill an elephant. Just another day managing tours through Europe’s most romantic destinations.

Waking up at the magnificent Château Vin Rouge with a killer hangover is just the beginning of Sharon ‘Shaz’ Green’s problems. As she pieces together the events of last night – including her embarrassing bar-top dance performance – this quick-witted Kiwi tour manager discovers she’s caught the eye of the devastatingly handsome Roger. Between managing her rowdy tour group and fighting off the effects of French wine, Shaz finds herself drawn into a passionate encounter in the most unlikely of places. But when morning comes, she realises that what happens on tour doesn’t always lead to happily ever after. If she can’t keep her heart in check, this summer romance might cost her more than just her dignity.