We bookended our trip to Antarctica with stops in Buenos Aires. On the way to Ushuaia, we dragged our jetlagged bodies out for a bus tour of the city. While on the way back, we accidentally found ourselves at a major social event – the “First Big Party of the Year” in Buenos Aires.
On the road
We were not prepared for the Buenos Aires weather. Our flight left Minnesota in the throes of winter: -25°C (-14°F). Each day we were in Antarctica was warmer than that. Intellectually, we knew it was summer in Argentina. The 26°C (80°F) temperatures were still a shock to the system.
It didn’t help that we still wore our “winter” / travel clothes. Getting to a change of clothes was not a practical option. Our luggage was mixed in with that of our fellow travelers and wouldn’t reappear until our room was ready.
We armored ourselves by thinking “cool” thoughts and found a bus tour of the city – even connecting with a couple other passengers who had the same idea. To be fair, we were hot and tired. At one point or another, each person in our little group nodded off. But it was a good way to pass the afternoon and we saw a lot more of the city than we would have from our hotel room.
“How do you know Javier?”
On our way back, our travel agent booked us at the Recoleta Grand Hotel. It is a former mansion in an upscale part of the city – a bit more posh than our typical digs, but perfect for our sightseeing plans. The staff was wonderful and very patient with us. They even gifted us a box of macaroons when we left (although we are not sure if it is because we were such great guests or if they were glad to see us leave).
The hotel was close to the things we planned to see: the superb Museo Nacional de Bellas Artes (with its collection of Rodin and a favorite of mine: a painting by Ramon Silva) and El Ateneo Grand Splendid (a stunning bookstore built in an ornate early 20th Century theatre). It is also walking distance to the Recoleta Cemetery if one wants to check out Eva Peron’s resting place – we’d seen it on a previous trip and figured she was not going anywhere soon. We were also able to walk to dinner at Floreria Atlantico, a speakeasy hidden in a flower shop.
After walking back from dinner, we decided to stop at the hotel bar for a drink to celebrate our successful trip to Antarctica. The bar area is a two story enclosed atrium: black and white tiles, tall blue water feature, art deco metal work. There was balcony off what used to be the back of the house with a stairway descending to a sunken area where we sat. It was surprisingly empty and quiet, but we had a nice chat with the bartender.
Soon we noticed hotel security arrive to stand by the entryway we took into the bar. Then we heard the rumble of more voices. Then came the flashes from the cameras. From where we sat, we could look up a flight of marble stairs, down a short hallway and out to the street. Men in tuxedos. Women dressed for a big evening out. A velvet rope guided new arrivals to the photo stop and then onto the floor above us.
I asked the bartender what was happening. He said it was someone’s birthday party and there was going to be a lot of politicians, media types and celebrities. The security at the doors gave us a second glance but didn’t ask us to leave. We chose to stay put until told otherwise.
The well-heeled spilled out onto the balcony above. Occasionally one would wave and playfully invite us to join them. We politely declined. While I knew no Argentinian celebrities of any sort, I knew someone who might. I texted my cousin to explain our situation to see if she could help. She asked for pictures.
To be clear: no one would confuse us for anyone on the invite list. We dressed to go out for dinner and Anna looked very nice but I was in a polo shirt, khakis and hiking boots. There is no way I would pass as a guest. So we chose to remain calm and seated and observe the beautiful people without spooking them – like some pop culture Jane Goodall. Soon the party descended the stairs and enveloped us. The wait staff snuck us plates of food and asked if we thought this was exciting seeing all of “this” – with a broad gesture to include everyone in the room. But we had no idea what “this” was.
I pretended to take selfies in order to get pictures of the partygoers. I sent these to my cousin, hoping she could identify someone. No luck. More food appeared – the fact that the party staff were bringing us food instead of us having to hunt for it seemed to annoy the folks seated nearby – which I was okay with. Then we learned our drinks were comped. Yay!
Then the unavoidable occurred. A well-dressed couple sat next to us. Eventually, a conversation materialized. Smiling, she leaned over and asked, “How do you know Javier?” We were honest and said we didn’t. We just came here and the party formed around us. They took it in stride and we had a nice chat – she is in interior design; he is in finance.
Eventually, it grew late and we felt we pushed our luck enough. The party was in full swing but we felt it best to leave instead of getting thrown out. We said good evening to our new acquaintances and retired – armed with a first name at least.
Epilogue
We did eventually learn the name of the birthday boy and sent him a birthday card / thank you note when we returned home. Since we were not invited, we hoped we were at least polite party crashers. He sent a nice reply. I will do my best to remember to send him one in the upcoming years.
As my cousin suspected, the society papers were all over this event. The next morning, armed with details about the party and the name of the host, we hit the internet.
The party was on the front page of ¡HOLA! Argentina. According to the cover, we attended the “First Big Party of the Year” for the Buenos Aires social scene. Early in the story, there is an image of actress and TV presenter, Ginette Reynal. She is wearing a black blazer and skirt with a top hat covered in black feathers. Behind her, the party continues in a lower room with black and white floor tiles. A large blue water feature fills the far wall.
Sitting at a table, dressed in a polo shirt, khakis, and hiking boots – arms crossed – is me.
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