I had heard

I had heard that Argentinos, especially porteños (the citizens of Buenos Aires) were snobs. That they all considered themselves European and therefore better than the rest of South America. I had heard that 97% of Argentina is considered "white" or of European descent, making it the least diverse city in the Americas.

I had heard that they didn`t even make women`s clothing sizes above a two and that women in Buenos Aires were insanely small due to a large occurrence of eating disorders and super model syndrome.

I had heard that there were more psychoanalysts per person in Argentina than in any other city in the world (outside of New York). I had heard that apart from NYC, Buenos Aires has the largest Jewish population living outside of Israel.

I had heard that even the Spanish in Argentina was different, that the people used vos instead of tú and that any y or ll was pronounced as a soft j sound, making the Spanish sound like a cross between Italian, Portuguese and the Castellano it actually is.

I had heard that Porteños cued for everything and that a trip to the bank, post office or phone company could be an all day affair.

I had heard that Buenos Aires wanted to be Paris or NY or both. That it felt it didn´t belong in South America. Frankly, before arriving to the capital of Argentina, I wasn`t sure I was going to fit in, let alone want to fit in to this snobby, neurotic city of people.

But like all information received second hand, it is meant to be investigated and examined first hand, and when I did finally arrive to the hot city of Buenos Aires on the first day of summer, I realized that what I had heard was going to be challenged by what I would see, taste and hear once I was there.

That is not to say that I can challenge the statistics that Buenos Aires has a large Jewish or psychoanalyst population. I cannot speak to either of those statistics. (Incidentally, I wonder if those two stats are related, given our propensity toward guilt, self-deprecation and martyrdom.)

And certainly the statistic that you must stand in long lines for any type of bureaucratic business I found to be true with my new cell phone, that unfortunately can make but not receive phone calls. After three phone calls and four visits to the telefonica/movistar office in both Buenos Aires and Mendoza, I realize that it is true that standing in lines is a way of life in Argentina and despite the heat and the seeming ludicrous nature of all the standing around to be told where to stand next, for the most part, it is an accepted part of life, and most people accept this colossal time suck as an inconvenience one must endure. (While standing in one of the three lines that day, images of angry New Yorkers kept popping into my head. There they would be, standing in lines for hours on end just to be told to stand in a subsequent lines, and the riots that would logically ensue from such bureaucracy. I was also reminded of the social security office I recently visited with my grandfather when I was in Brooklyn last, where clearly you expect to wait, be mistreated and subsequently misinformed about what to do, where to go and who to contact. This has been my experience with the cell phone. And don`t bother calling yet, it still is not accepting incoming calls!)

But line standing aside, walking down the busy main streets in the center among outdoor cafes, clothing shops and a plethora of outdoor restaurants and bars, I was struck by its uniqueness. Buenos Aires has nothing to do with Lima or Quito or any other Latin American city. Indeed there are moments where you really could be in Manhattan or Madrid or Paris. And other moments where you know the only place you could be is exactly where you are, Buenos Aires, the capital of Argentina.

The restaurants fill at 3 in the afternoon for lunch and again at 10 at night for dinner. The bars, open all night long, serve liters of Quilmes, the national beer, wine by the gallon and petite cups of espresso to the throngs of local and international patrons. The shops offer all the latest fashion in sizes that range from 0 to 20, so yes, while they do have sizes for people that are for all intents and purposes starving themselves to death, they are not the only, nor the most prominent sizes around. And while there does seem to be a preponderance of beauty salons and hair removal facilities for women, the women for the most part, seem to come in all shapes and sizes.

Riding the metro from one end of the city to the other, I was struck by the extreme whiteness that surrounded me. Unlike while traveling in Ecuador, Bolivia, Peru or even the Dominican Republic, I do not stick out like a sore thumb in Buenos Aires. I am just one more young, fair skinned citizen with blonde hair. Sure my eyes and my extremely large backpack give me away, but not quite as quickly or as easily as my skin anywhere else in Latin America.

In Caminto, a neighborhood at the south end of the city, you can dine while watching the tango, and expression of Argentinean art and suffering. Formerly a dance done principally by sailors and prostitutes, the tango has become an icon of the Argentinean soul. And as the fancily dressed couples engage in the vertical version of a horizontal expression, they wear pained expressions; heads held high, the music filled with the suffering of the Argentinean history.

In el jardìn botànico and the jardìn japonès, you can wander for hours lost in green space, oblivious the city of 13 million inhabitants around you.

And as you make your way down any street, prepare to be accosted for money or food from the less fortunate children of the city. Juggling barefoot between the cars, dirty hands outstretched, your heart will break as you do or do not hand over the spare peso or medialuna from your breakfast plate. Like all major cities in the world, Buenos Aires has a homeless population . . . with a very young face.

Of course if you are a woman, you will have the unfortunate experience of hearing at least one whistle, smooching sound or piropo, a comment made by a man of any age supposedly designed to "honor the beauty of women" but actually just an expression of extreme machismo or sexism. Yes, surprise surprise, machismo is alive and well in Argentina and depending on how much you feel like arguing with strangers, you could spend quite a bit of time retorting to these sounds and comments as you make your way around town.

Buenos Aires and as I continue to travel, Argentina, like all places has a reputation. Just like all Californian women have blonde hair and everyone in the Bay area grows marijuana. Just like the Irish like to drink and the English all drink tea. Just like New Yorkers are rude and southerners slow, the reputation is what you hear before you visit an area in the world. Reality is what you discover once you go for yourself.