Woke up in the royal bed, a king-sized cloud of comfort where you can stretch out as far as you want without disrupting your partner. We had to be out the door by 10:30am in order to drink my cafe con leche (coffee with milk, or latte), fresh-squeezed orange juice, Jason’s cafe cortado (strong, like espresso), and eat our medialunas (croissants with honey glaze) in time to meet Vale (pronounced Val-lay) at the train station. Within moments of meeting Vale, I loved her. She has a vivacious spark that lights up those around her. She has a great sense of humor and an even better ability to make you instantly comfortable telling her any of your secrets. She ordered the 3 tickets, “Tres a Tigre”, which cost under five pesos total (around 35 cents per person), and we were on our way 28km (17.5 miles) to the Parana Deltas. Fifty-five minutes later, after seeing more graffiti than in all my life combined, we arrived in Tigre. Tigre is on the north side of town and is a popular attraction for local tourists. There are shops organized in large markets (such as the Puerto de frutos), an amusement park (Luna Park), and even a casino. It’s set on the side of a large network of waterways, which start out large, then wind and turn into smaller and smaller neighborhoods for the weekend vacationers. We stood in line for the water taxis, which come by every 10-15 minutes dropping people off and picking people up. Even the locals commute via water taxi for their groceries. We rode the taxi, stop after stop, for 20 minutes or so before getting off near a riverfront restaurant boasting “Quilmes” beer. Vale, being the expert tour guide, chose to bypass the first restaurant and take us on a little hike behind it. We followed a path and crossed a bridge to follow another path, this time narrower and with lush vegetation all around us and various species of birds chirping everywhere. We were suddenly in another world. A tropical paradise. Pretty soon it felt more like an organized city sidewalk than a dirt pathway. We passed by numerous houses (more like cabins), with jetskis flying by on the other side of us, along with small row boats, large row boats, canoes, kayaks, and even the occasional regular boat, though most were tied up to their respective docks at the bottom of the cliff where they met water. For an hour or so, we hiked along the uneven sidewalk, told jokes, exchanged language lessons, and settled in an outdoor patio restaurant covered with a 20-30 year old vine tree that provided shade for at least twenty patrons. We ate chorizo, pommes frites, and milanesa (breaded, deep-fried steak pounded thin with a layer of serrano ham and cheese, topped with marinara). After stuffing ourselves, we wobbled back to the taxi dock and waited for the next boat. Once back on land, we walked around to the various mercados and feria (outdoor market or festival) for another hour or two before heading back to the train station where I was coached by Vale on how to order our return tickets. “Tres a Retiro.” The attendant looked at me with disgust, but not because I butchered my “R” in “Retiro”. Instead her grimace was due to my handing her a 50 peso for a $$4.85 bill. An hour-long train ride later and we said thank you and good-night to Vale, promptly walked back to our swanky apartment, and started thinking about dinner. JG wanted to show me the strip by the water on Puerto Madero, home to the Puente de la Mujer (“Women’s Bridge”, which is rumored to be modeled after the tango.) and numerous restaurants (including another Il Gatto and American TGI Fridays). We chose a fine steakhouse and like clockwork, ordered our dinner around 11pm.
After dinner, we stopped for drinks at a thumping, neon filled bar/restaurant filled with twenty-somethings, where JG ordered a Fernet Branca con Cola and I ordered a strong Caipirinha. His was better.
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