Here are some details.

Spent the day outside of the narrow strip of Centro Buenos Aires that I had gotten accustomed to in my previous days here. I took Av. Florída all the way to its end, which led me to a large park-ish area called Plaza San Martín. A sloped grassy hill with a lot of people on top of it (a few of them coupled and making out, which is a common thing to see in parks and sidestreet enclaves here - but not as common as it was in Mexico); a little plaza area with statues featuring your typical BA fare: heroically-posed men with or without horses, or Greek/Christian figures; a recycling bin that had the mulched-up pale-multi-colored look that recycled material itself has, quarter-full with plastic bags; a huge Claro! building (Argentina´s main cell-phone service provider, they even advertise on top of the street signs here) in front of me, and a majestically-built cathedral behind with a homeless man between its gated entrance and some portal that led underground. Took a left and walked down Av. Santa Fe, which led me into the heart of Recoleta - the uppity portion of BA. Immaculate hotel lobbies, rows of private mansions, and ultra-botique clothing stores (as opposed to the standard clothing stores in this city, which are boutique, and the thrift clothing stores, which are used boutique). The street emptied out into a quaint and (thankfully) unpretentious little crafts fair, selling yerba mate cups and Cuban cigars and animals made out of folded-up subway passes. When I found the sidewalk again I walked through gates which said ¨Rest in Peace¨ in Spanish above them, and I was in a cemetary unlike I had never seen before: about two square blocks full of sarcophagi of immense sizes and elaborateness. The paths were paved with tiles and the tombs themselves were made of stone, with sculptures of their inhabitants and Christian iconography abounding. It was simultaneously disgusting and fascinating - never had I thought before that a house of the dead coud feel so much like a shopping mall, what with crowds of people looking through the individual sarcopho-windows at what´s keeping the coffins company (a closed shopping bag here, a painting of an apostle looking upwards there) and taking the occasional chat-break while sitting atop a slab of marble. Evita is buried there, I didn´t see her. I did see a massive bust of an old Argentinean general that was surely once a pure and glistening bronze but now has rusted his face to a pale white, with patches of a sickly-green running down his eyes. The word ´´Argentina´´ comes from the Latin word for ´´silver´´, and the people who named and then conquered this area of the world certainly got what they came for. But I suppose many of those faces from the past haven´t aged as handsomely after death as they might have hoped. At least not in my mind. So then I walked back through what looked like an elementary school getting out (which I think are called ´´collegios´´ here, which is confusing but also pleasantly reminds me of those beautiful, juvenile, ´´oh-god-do-i-have-to?´´ sentiments that bond students of all ages to their institutions, to some degree at least). I took the subway back to the Primera Junta stop in the Caballito barrio, where I´m staying with a immensely kind man named Federico who teaches economics and plays the djembe in an Afro-Brazillian workshop band. A little girl handed out what my friend Amanda said are called´´valentines´´ in Spain, which are cards that ask for a little bit of money to help her eat; she then goes back around and collects the cards, which gives you the choice of either consciously handing her nothing or giving her a few centavos as well. After collecting every card I saw without any coins, she went to the back of the train and watched the subway tunnel fly behind us into the same darkness. She giggled. I was hungry, I got back to Federico´s apartment, I am still hungry, and now I will make myself a cup of tea.