Calonia ~ crumbling quaintness and McCain Super Fries

Across the river from Buenos Aires is Uruguay and the town of Colonia del Sacramento. Long a favoured getaway for portenos, Colonia boasts a population of around 25,000 and a laid back atmosphere quite unlike anything in BA.

We travelled to Calonia by the BuqueBus rapid ferry. The 52 km journey takes about 55 minutes. At Uruguay Immigration there was a discussion, in Spanish of course so I'm not sure of all the details, nor to what I might have agreed, about the fact that my passport photo does not match the present reality of my appearance. The result of three months in the Yukon perhaps. In the end there was a smile by the officer and I was allowed entry.

Calonia is famous for its historic quarter, which is now a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Our inn, Posado Plaza Mayor, a highlight of our stay, is located in the quarter and was built in 1860. Unassuming from the street, it boasts charming rooms and a beautiful courtyard, to which our room opens, complete with limes and grapes.

Founded by Portuguese in 1680, Calonia changed hands between Spain and Portugal a number of times. The cobblestone streets and buildings date, in many cases to the 1600s.












Calonia is beautiful. It is also a tourist town. There are many, many restaurants, all serving McCain french fries. In fact the dining situation in the barrio historico is terrible. While it is nice to sit outside and view the crumbling quaintness of the town, eating anything but the most rudimentary of food for the masses is almost impossible. This is a problem. In that sense I suppose it isn't unlike tourist towns the world over, but with the serious dining habits of Argentinos, the town's main tourist market, this doesn't make sense.

A popular restaurant across from the Basilica is El Drugstore. In the evening it boasts live entertainment. The singer presents all the Broadway hits from 1920 to 1950. She sings with great flourish,and wearing a headset, to canned music. In a brilliant grand finale, she stands on a chair, which wobbles a bit on the uneven tiles, and sings Don't Cry for Me Argentina.

Meanwhile, inside the Basilica, and down some dark and uneven stairs, is a strange nativity display with spot lights that flash so quickly your eyes hurt.















We did find one restaurant that potentially offers an actual dining experience beyond Super Fries. The Art Gallery Restaurant is small and inviting. We managed to get there for a late night cafe con crema and brandy, and to watch a stunning full moon. When we returned for a meal the next night, it was unexpectedly closed.

In the end, sometimes a person just has to give in. Here Sherry enjoys a cool drink at a cafe, and watches as a busker auditions for the cafe's owners. He was actually quite good, no classic hits, just a simple guitar. And no, we didn't have any fries.

Early morning

It is cooler at 4:30 in the morning. The air is fresh and the sky clear.

There are hundreds walking. Going home? Walking like me?  Hundreds more at a disco club located under an overhead rail line. The bass beat throbs through the area.







The moon is full and bright and a few stars can be seen in the darkness above. Buenos Aires lives up to its name with little in the way of obvious pollution. The winds take it down into the valley where it becomes someone else's problem perhaps?

An early morning busker plays in a subte station. Is he on his way home, or has he just arrived? His music echoes through the tunnels.

Afer 6:00 the sun begins to rise  and the heat with it. The parks, quiet before,are now filled with the sounds of a million birds.  

By 6:30 the avenidas fill with traffic. The city, never fully at rest, begins another day. 

And I return home, and to bed.            

         

Watch your step

Sidewalks can be a problem in Buenos Aires. They are often cluttered with all kinds of things, or in some sort of disrepair. To be fair, some of these same problems can be seen in other cities too, but I've never seen anything quite like what I've seen here. And to be clear, I love this city, and not all sidewalks are terrible. Still, it's best to keep one eye on the ground while walking.




Cars get to park on the sidewalk, for brief times, though no one knows what that means.

Of course you can park your motorcycle on the footpath too. Sometimes it's even okay to drive your bike down the sidewalk to save a little time.

Tree branches get cut and never seem to get taken away. Card board boxes appear, as do other things. Sometimes they stay where dropped for days.

Garbage accumulates on corners through the day and does get taken away during the night. For the most part.

It's the general disrepair that is most noticeable. There is much construction going on in this city and sidewalks are not a priority. I wonder how persons in wheelchairs, or those visually impaired, manage to get around. Or do they?



There is immense beauty in this city. In spite of the potential pitfalls, that beauty is all around us, and one of the best ways to see it is to simply walk. Carefully perhaps, but walking nonetheless.

And every once in a while, while walking on a sidewalk in Buenos Aires, you will come upon something perhaps unique to Argentina. The remembering of someone who mattered to a community. A tile carefully prepared and placed in the sidewalk, and protected day to day, by people who care.

Here lived Eduardo Goldar Parodi.

A popular activist for the public good.

Arrested and disappeared by state terrorism.

September 9, 1977

Neighbourhoods for Remembrance and Justice.

We should all care.