The first few days

Stepping out of the plane in Buenos Aires came with a very nice surprise - temperatures of 20-25°C after the harsh winter back home felt like finally reaching the bus terminal after a long bus journey with a stretched bladder.

After we had stored our bags at the hostel, Judith & I headed down to La Boca where our friend Esteban prepared an amazing barbecue/asado for us. His place has a truly beautiful roof terrace overlooking the city's skyline and the Boca Juniors stadium. There might be some things Argentines do not do well (like accepting a defeat in a world cup quarter final), but they certainly know how to prepare the best barbecues in the world - apologies to my American, Australian, Brazilian & South African readers. 

The next day, we spent wandering the streets of Buenos Aires, and preparing for the legendary Superclásico football match between Boca Juniors and River Plate. Preparing here actually meant buying a baseball cap to cover my blond gringo hair in the stadium. In the evening, we met up with my parents, whom we were planning to travel to Patagonia with for the next two weeks.

On Sunday, Esteban, his brother Nico, and I finally went to the match. Judith didn’t come along because, well, the Superclásico is notorious for its ‘roughness‘, and years back, some 70 people had been trampled to death in a mass panic. Not so good for the ladies. We spent roughly 2 hours in the rain waiting in the queue in front of the entrance. After passing the ticket and lax security checks, we waited another two hours in the fenced area of the stadium dedicated to the hardcore supporters of Boca Juniors. Waiting actually is the wrong term - we sang, danced, jumped, and consistently accused the River Plate supporters of being sons of women who belong to a particular profession. I’ve been to many stadiums in Europe, but this was a completely different level. The number of chants, the cleverness in finding items to throw at the pitch, the way the pitch was prepared (due to the rain, they actually had a guy with a basket of paint and a brush consistently re-painting the white lines), the age and state of the stadium - something you would never see in the Premier League or the Bundesliga. Fabulous!