There is the steaming mate (tea-- but so much more) that is constantly being passed around. The artsy neighborhoods, sources of great local pride. Those grand Colonial-era buildings that infuse the city with charm of another time. The Italian touch, from last names to pizzerias, that remains a testament to their waves of emigration. But also those distinct, more Latin, qualities. Like the lovely twenty minutes you sometimes spend awaiting your waiter, your food and your bill. The frequent and vociferous complaints about politicians (well, perhaps that's universal. But definitely amplified, and more humorous, in the Southern Hemisphere). And, of course, an unparalleled devotion to futbol.
Buenos Aires, as the country in general, is extremely hard to place culturally. Today, I saw Peruvian immigrants playing flute in the street for a few pesos. Walking by were busy workers streaming by with briefcase in hand, possibly heading to one of the many skyscrapers that line the city's horizon. Here are a few snaps of this varied, thrilling place.
From Plaza de Mayo.
People cross a street (newsflash, I know) of the famed Boca neighborhood.
Plaza de Mayo.
A bus in the Boca neighborhood.
The modern district-- Puerto Madero at sunset.