Choose your own Buenos Aires adventure.

A nineteen hour bus ride out of Puerto de Igazu gets you to the capital of Argentina, Buenos Aires. Surprisingly you sleep deep and long on the journey, still shaking off the might of a heavy night spent in perpetual happy hour. The previous evening sits in a hazy corner flashing snippets of stirring conversation between you and an Australian reporter called Jarred. He talks tales of his work life and an affinity grows between you based upon the similarities and differences of the British and Australian nations. He is naturally well read and you share a similar sense of humour whilst getting blasted on Caipirinhas and oversized Quilmes beer.

Your mind snaps back to the Argentinian capital…

A fifteen minute taxi ride gets you to the downtown Millhouse Hipo and you are relieved to find your hostel is bustling with life. The hostel is staffed by a young, smiley, vibrant team who seem to embody an Argentinian spirit, rich in gestural greetings and welcoming cheek kisses between young and old. The light sparse interior is painted brightly to compensate for the lack of windows and a steady flow of travellers invade the halls of the Hipo.

At last your hostel buzzes with life and stories of experiences interleave in and out of your consciousness. An Australian girl talks philosophically of how she was robbed by a ketchup spill scam whilst a group of Irish girls wearily shake off their newly acquired hangovers from a heavy night’s drinking.

Having arrived at eight in the morning, you wait until your room is ready, accepting the offer of breakfast from Mariella at reception. Whilst still being a large spread, it doesn’t compare to Brazillian hostel breakfasts offering simple bread, jam and fruit as the main staple. A few hours of refreshment later, you are revitalised, up to date on Facebook and have updated your blog.

What do you want to do now?

If you want to go to an Empanada making course/Tango lesson/Club 69 experience, go to NIGHT 2.

If you want to go to meet your Danish friends Jacob and Line for an awesome Argentinian steak instead, go to NIGHT 1.

NIGHT 1

The Buenos Aires bustle is equivalent to any major city except here it feels the concentration is placed along the elongated strip of Avenue 9 de Julio. As a pedestrian, the road takes some effort to cross due to the dense number of lanes (six for general traffic and four for buses in alternating directions plus intersecting roads that dice the asphalt evenly). Timers count down how long you have left to cross each section of the road and make the experience frenetic. You decide to take the underground Subte as the buses will only take coins or the equivalent of an Oyster card. Both of these options are ball achingly difficult to obtain. Forget trying to communicate with anyone in a kiosk about Arge-oyster, (Argentinian Buenos Aries-ites are notoriously frosty until you have their trust), your Spanglish questions go answered with a shake of the head and a refusal to continue communication.

Your other option to use coins on the bus is also shut down as many shops refuse to give them to customers (Savvy shop keepers deciding to keep them for their own commute). Legend has it the bus companies make more money by exporting the coins out of the country, melting them down and selling off the metal for a higher price than the worth of the coins.

You descend into the subway, pay 35 pesos to the ticket office and start your journey towards Palermo. The tube is densely packed and you have to squeeze yourself tightly into the carriage. With little space available, you are forced to stand-up-spoon other passengers on the journey whilst the familiar smell of a day’s worth of body odour and diesel fumes attack your senses. Nine stops and a change of line later, you leave the subway noticing the sun has begun to set, signalling the need to get a move on. You discretely check the gps on your phone and walk a few blocks towards the Dane’s apartment.

Buzzzzzzttt.

Line greets you at the entrance and you are welcomed with open arms, blonde hair and big smiles into their apartment. The smell of steak triggers your mouth to start watering and as good guests, you open the litre of booze you bought earlier. A never ending stream of double entendres exchange as you share a joke about a brand of wine you drink called “Colon” (“I love the taste of Colon”, “Colon is my favourite”, “I’d prefer a Colon”…ad infinitum) Jacob demonstrates his cooking skills and delivers a juicy steak worthy of recommendation.

The wine and beer flow like Igazu, numbing and dulling your senses, leaving you near helpless and inept. When a card game of Jungle Uno is played out you flail, unable to make the simplest of decisions to the hilarity (frustration) of your hosts. Your awesome gal Lucy takes the executive decision to sling you in a Taxi, allowing the empty streets and bright lights of Buenos Aries to make their moves and you make it back to the hostel in one piece.

Congratulations! You survived a night in Buenos Aries! Collect 10000000 pesos, 500 XP and a damage multiplier of 7.

GO TO NIGHT 2

NIGHT 2

You decide on a days worth of activities starting with an Empanada making lesson in the Millhouse Hipo social area. By this point your Danish friends have uprooted and have joined you in the Millhouse Hipo. The lesson is busy and you meet a large sociable group of Australian, Irish, Argentinian and Brazillian keen to chat and join in the experience. Here you meet Bobby, Brody and Christine, good sorts from around English speaking isles. The host Mellissa feels stereotypically Argentinian, I.e. dark skinned, large eyed, expressive with her (sometimes flailing) arms and passionate in dialogue. She explains the origin of the Empanada is from the UK, aping a good old Cornish Pasty, which you had already guessed but couldn’t qualify.

Melissa demonstrates the process of folding and moulding the flat dough into the right shape making it look way too easy. You do your best but struggling to manipulate the materials (and your spazzy hands) but produce a right old wonky mess unworthy of the title Empanamda. Melissa makes an example out of you and you high five all the other wonky Empanada producers, relishing in your collective ineptitude.

A competition for the most creative Empanada shape is set and you do your best to come up with an innovative design. A mobile phone with a Facebook web page is all you can muster. You are outclassed by Lucy and Jacob who make an impressive wine glass shape and an intricate rose design respectively. Jacob wins the competition and Lucy comes second. You slug another glass of Malbec slightly jealous of their success but happy that they beat everyone else too.

Later you make your way (slightly reluctantly) to the main Millhouse social area for your first ever Tango lesson. Couples gather together on opposite sides of the room, the men squirming like they are at a school disco. How did you get yourself into this? Tango really isn’t your thing, let alone dancing. Dressed in all black, your very serious Tango teachers swagger through the steps and drip with steamy passion demonstrating their provocative poses and leg rubbing moves. You stumble around for a while trying to emulate the basic square move and eventually manage to synchronise with Lucy. Don’t give up your day job.

After the Tango, a party begins at the Millhouse. What was a breakfast area this morning turns into a fully fledged bar and nightclub. The DJ drops some tunes you know and lots you don’t. You and Lucy socialise and hit some badass shots with the Danes as the hostel starts to pulse with activity.

Just as the party gets going, you realise it’s 2.30 in the morning. Damn. You need to be in Club 69 (not just a clever name) before 3 or you will get stung with paying ridiculous entry fees. You run outside and hastily flag a taxi down. As you all get in the taxi, the driver floors the accelerator and gleefully weaves through the empty streets of Buenos Aeries like he is controlling a speeder bike on endor. He remembers the traffic light sequence but suffers break pedal amnesia in a white knuckle journey to the club. He runs many red lights passing through milliseconds before they change. Your grimace speaks volumes but he gets you to the club in record breaking time.

Your pre-paid wristbands let you skip the queue and you enter Club 69. Entering the venue feels like entering the underworld as trance and electro bass sap the life expectancy out of the club’s P.A. System. By this time the club is packed and the oppressive sting of cigarette smoke stings your eyes. Your eyes dart towards the stage in which a troupe of dancers thrust at the crowd, wearing some next level bondage apparel. Some actually wear very little, and some wear the opposite gender. The apparently transsexual dancers cut their shapes and are propelled around the room on moving platforms to mashup tunes. You dance and sing so loud that by the end of the night you start losing your voice.

Back in the taxi and back to the hostel… you collapse into bed almost instantly pass out clocking up an unforgettable night in B.A.

Congratulations! You survived a night in Buenos Aries! Collect 30000000 pesos, 800 XP and a skill point multiplier of 3.

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