T-Bones, Tipples and Tango- Buenos Aires, Argentina, June 2008

Treated to Tango

I wouldn’t say I’m a foodie but I love to eat and will normally wolf down anything that comes my way, but nothing fails to excite me like steak and chips.  What more can you ask for than a thick piece of beef, rosy in the middle sat on a nest of thin and crispy fries to soak up all the juices.  If this is sounding like music to your ears then Buenos Aires is the city for you.  In fact even if steak is not your bag Buenos Aires is still the city for you as I guarantee if you’ve tried steak before but haven’t had the connection described above you just haven’t had the right steak and this is the land of the right steak.  We arrived after a 12 hour bus ride and as bus rides went it was pretty luxurious- Argentina is famous for first class overland travel and even if you’re 6 foot you can normally catch some Z’s.  The morning was clear but the streets empty so the taxi drive to the hostel felt like a private tour, colonial buildings with white detail on pastel painted plaster, lined wide tree planted boulevards.  It was like walking straight onto movie set for Dancing in the Rain aging tango posters peeling from the walls of alleys and cafes on every corner. The bustling morning crowd were sat in slivers of pale sunshine peaking round the corners of buildings, smoking cigarettes and sipping espressos. 

La Boca

After dumping our bags we headed out to explore, after the humidity of Brazil this cool, crisp weather was a relief and after wandering for a while you could mistakingly think you were in Paris in springtime.  A visit to the cemetery was spookily interesting, you can easily find yourself void of company, apart from the occasional cat, surrounded by towering mausoleums, some sombre and dark others intricately decorated with gilt cherubs all magnificent in their honouring of the dead.  La Boca, home of the world famous Boca Juniors, really captures the imagination.  The brightly painted wooden buildings looks like a town straight out of the wild west (if that particular one horse town happened to be owned by Willy Wonka) but with a sea side feel, I almost expected to see an olde English tea shoppe selling rock.  Here we were treated to live tango shows and artisan fairs.

Despite the bustling crowds we soon realised this was not a city that showed its true colours until after dark.  This was when the streets really came alive with live bands and artists, bars spilled out onto the streets and the hum of excited chatter was abundant.  And now finally to the steak…   we chose a restaurant off a quiet side street marked out with gilt calligraphy over the door frame.  The interior failed to disappoint and after a brief chat with the waiter we discovered it hadn’t changed since the 1900s.  Every inch of walls were covered in black and white photos documenting Buenos Aires through the last century.  We were seated, heavy candlesticks lit our quiet corner and thick napkins were swooshed professionally onto our laps.  Despite there being a vast array of choices on the menu I know what I’d come for- bife de chorizo- a thick cut of Argentinian beef, served rare with a bottle of silky Malbec from Mendoza and pile of salty fries.  The meat offered no resistance and the knife slid through revealing a blood red interior, no chewing just a glorious melt in the mouth in the mouth texture.  I had never tasted better and to this day have not been served anything that even compares.  Buenos Aires; a steak lovers paradise- vegetarians need not apply.

Chasing the Aurora, Tromsø, Norway, February 2011

Tromso is north, seriously north.  Situated 400km inside the Arctic Circle it boasts so much 'most northern in the world' paraphernalia that would make your head spin including most northern commercial airport and most northern university.  None of this is very interesting and as quaint and typically Scandinavian as Tromso is, its twinning with Grimsby may you give you a clue of its touristic appeal.  And yet tourists descend in their droves on this town.  Why?  The answer, the Aurora Borealis or more commonly the Northern Lights and this was precisely my reason for going. This was not my first chase- the first ending in disappointment a few years ago in Iceland, the weather had been perfect but the elusive solar winds had refused to blow.  This time I had planned everything to a tee.  

The lights are meant to be brightest in the early part of the year- the colder and darker the better but not too wintery as snow would be a risk.  Full moons are bad news too so I settled in the first week in February- conditions should have been perfect.  As the date approached I checked the weather and solar forecasts obsessively.  Clear skies but no solar storms to speak of- in my eyes this was fine, it meant Tromso was due some.  At the airport I was confident, on the descent I pointed out potential clumps of luminescence.  It turned out my eyes were playing tricks on me as on touchdown it became clear we had landed on a runway two inches deep in snow and the flakes were still falling.  This was not a good start.  Unfortunately Jack Frost wanted to stick around- determined to ruin my very expensive holiday.  When the snow cleared every so often stunning mountain scenery surrounded us with treacherous peaks plunging into sapphire waters.  This would be an incredible summer retreat but in the middle of winter in a town where the price of beer made London prices feel like a bargain I was getting cranky.  We checked into the tourist office every day hoping for better news and then it came- a coronal hole (drag your minds our of the gutter it is not a part of your anatomy), on the sun had been spotted which was causing extensive solar activity around Tromso.  The only problem with this being to find the clear skies required driving along icy mountain roads and negotiating two local ferries to get to the Finnish border two hours away.  The decision was easy- rent a car and hit the road, despite having to remortgage my unbought house to do this! 

It was 5^oclock but felt like 10, and pitch back as we alighted the second ferry when over the mountain range in front of us a green haze began to glow- the chase was on!  Despite the aurora being a phenomenon that happens in the upper echelons of our atmosphere, to see it properly you have to basically be right underneath it.  We drove for another two hours, the excitement was wearing off fast I was starting to think we'd either imagined it or again the weather would close in and not only would we be left metaphorically speaking empty handed but we'd also be stranded hundreds of kilometres from the airport and miss our 6am flight home.  We pulled off the main road and into a clearing enclosed in woodland.  There was nothing for it but to suit up and brace the freezing temperatures and started into the sky hoping for a miracle.  And a miracle we got!  One minute you're staring at stars and the next the sky is on fire with mint green flames.  The pattern shifted constantly, pulsating from bright whites to neon green for minutes at a time.  At one point a white band gushed from one side of the sky to the other, oozing a pink sheen like coloured oil dropped into water.  Then, as suddenly as it started it disappears and you return to darkness.  We scanned the skies for clues, vague arcs of light cut across the sky but blink and they were gone- I understood now how they were so hard to predict. 

Driving back took hours as we pulled over constantly to stare upwards, each time as gobsmacked as the first time.  Even at the airport under the glare of street lights we were treated to a phenomenal show.  As the sun rose and we filed onto the plane the mood was buoyant and everyone was chattering like excited sparrows of the previous nights exploits.  As one man commented "swearingly good" and quite frankly I am inclined to agree with him- simply swearingly good.