El Caminito

They say it’s good luck to carry a sugar packet in your wallet, to make life sweeter or help you out with money I don’t know. “Buscate un buen compañero de viaje antes de buscar la ruta,” says the one from Dani, our waiter in La Boca. I keep it in my coin purse with the one Silvana gave me. I suppose it’s good luck until you reach in your purse for change and find not coins but three packets of leaking sugar. Welcome to the good life. We didn’t make it to ACORN. I guess third time’s a charm. We’ll try again. I’m determined. We did manage to make it out to La Boca, and I saw El Caminito long enough to say I saw it. I hate tourist traps, and this is the king of them all in Buenos Aires. We ended up sneaking into a colorful alleyway along the railroad tracks to take pictures as schoolchildren in puffy coats ran by.

The Yellow Coat Series continues.

And then we had an hour or so before the art class at ACORN started, so we sat down in a café a little of the beaten path (adjacent to the yellow-clad Proa construction site) so I could use the facilities and we could warm up from the cold. La Boca was settled mainly by Italian immigrants, so we figured this Italian place by the docks was a safe bet. A pretty authentic choice. We started out only wanting coffee, even though I had just crushed a cup with Annemarie at Pizza Donna before our bus ride, but Jenny wanted French fries. Our waiter was so sweet but hard of hearing. He recommended the papas fritas criollas cooked with red peppers, onions and lemon juice. Despite the addition of vegetables, Jenny ordered them and they were delicious. Covered in grease though. I only allowed myself one bite. Okay two. The waiter said they were rich enough for a meal; he was right. Since Jenny was ordering food I opted for some gnocchi, it being the 29th and Gnocchi Day. I figured it was wiser to order it now than be running around like a chicken with my head cut off trying to find gnocchi between volunteering and 10 pm drinks at Milion. Annemarie stuck with her coffee and house-made tiramisu. What I didn’t hear the waiter tell the girls while I was in the ladies’ room was that the kitchen wasn’t running yet but that they’d start it up for us. So between that and our deaf waiter, the meal took more time than we had allowed.

Annemarie points out the current River Plate coach among all the Boca Juniors soccer memorabilia

By the time we had finished our plates (the food was delicious. My gnocchi with tucu y crema sauce was very rich. And Annemarie’s tiramisu portion was so huge she split it with me) and paid the bill, it was approaching dark and the ACORN community center would only be open for another 45 minutes. We attempted heading over there by bus (didn’t know which route) and by foot (didn’t know how to get there,) but in the end Annemarie and I decided there was no need to put ourselves in peril by tempting fate in the dark streets of impoverished La Boca. And it seemed silly to show up as new volunteers with only 30 minutes to close. I’m sure they’d love that we were interested, but I’m also afraid we’d come across as a nuisance at that hour. (And I doubt they’d buy the “We got lost” excuse after smelling our garlic breath.) So we roll with it. Laugh it off. We had a nice meal, saw a new part of town. Met a nice waiter who wanted me to dance the tango with him (“One lesson is enough!”) and asked me “¿Sos una modelo? You could be.” So you just take it for what it is. Things hardly ever work out as planned here. And it inevitably takes longer to do things than you’d expect. Annemarie admitted that two months ago, this would’ve really driven her crazy, but now it’s just kind of part of the ride. “We’ll go on Monday,” she told me. At this point I’d like to go at least once. If only to keep Ali and Sara updated on their kids and support all their past efforts.