A Final Return to Buenos Aires Pt.1

Despite the fact that we were ready to do the final section of our journey south, a part of me still didn’t want to go to Buenos Aires. We stopped off one night to break up our drive in Carlos Keen once again and then reluctantly headed to the city.

Several things required our attention. One of our front tyres was down to the canvas, so we needed a new tyre as well as a wheel alignment. Before dealing with the boring stuff, we decided to stop at Chinatown on the way in for some fun food shopping. We had had a great time buying tofu and hot sauce last time we were in the city, and we decided it would be a great place to stock up on hard-to-find ingredients before heading south. We had heard that it could be difficult to buy certain things down there.

We were planning to park nearby, like we had previously. However, when we arrived in the area it turned out there was a football game on. Because of that, most of the car parks were full, and the ones with space were charging nearly $10 an hour. We certainly weren’t paying that, so we kept driving until we reached the park in the city centre where we had stayed overnight before. Once we pulled in here, we had barely turned off the engine when some boy turned up trying to charge us to park there too. We told him that was nonsense—we had stayed here for free before—but he wasn’t having it. Once again, on principle, we left.

We parked a few minutes away by the Planetarium instead. From here we could easily cycle back; the city has plenty of cycle lanes and it was only about a ten-minute ride. We could also leave the cats in the shade as it was a hot day.

We unloaded the bikes and set off around the park. On the other side, we were met with another surprise. If it hadn’t been enough to bump into Carlos and Marce at the VW meetup the other day, we now saw even older friends. The last time we had met was back in Campeche, Mexico. We had a broken gearbox and they had a dodgy carburettor. Now, after three years and again with no planning at all, we bumped into them here in the capital city. Of course, we stopped to say hello. Like most travellers we meet these days, they were heading south, so we imagined our paths would cross again soon enough. Then we headed off to the supermarket.

It was an easy ride down, though we had to keep an eye on our budget once inside. We stocked up on soya pieces, a huge bottle of sweet chilli sauce, and plenty of tofu and cheap seeds. As we were browsing the aisles, I suddenly remembered that I had left the van keys on the bike rack, like an idiot. It was a busy day in town and Ruby was parked right there, with the keys available for anyone to grab. Our only consolation was that we had left the WiFi on, and the supermarket had WiFi too. We logged in and checked our camera. Thankfully, both cats were there and no one had broken in, so we hurriedly packed everything, jumped on our bikes, and cycled back to Ruby as quickly as we could. Lee made it before me, and I could tell from the look of relief on his face that we had got lucky.

Several other travellers appeared to be staying in the park that night, but after being there before we decided we didn’t want to try it again. We headed towards the district of San Isidro in the hopes of a quieter night. On the way, we stopped to drop our laptop off at a repair shop. Hopefully we’d have more luck here than in Uruguay.

Our chosen spot for the night was near the yacht club. San Isidro is a nice part of the city, on the banks of the Rio de la Plata, and dotted along this huge river are various boating clubs. We hoped this would mean fewer late-night parties, mopeds, and early morning workout classes than in the city centre. To get there, we drove through one of the rougher areas. Ruby crept down a narrow street lined with lean-to shacks, piles of rubble, and doors patched with tattered fabric. We inched around a large hole in the road, not really wanting to stop. Locals watched us silently from behind broken windows and makeshift fences of corrugated iron and pallets. As suddenly as it had appeared, the slum was gone and we turned into pretty paved streets lined with trees and expensive-looking houses.

The yacht club was at the end of a small dirt road. A large stretch of grass served as the car park, with the river just in front. It looked like a great spot, and we hoped no one would mind us using it as a base for the next few days.

The first thing on our list was sorting the tyres and finding someone who could reline the rear brake shoes. We tried a few shops without much luck before ending up at Goodyear. They agreed to do the tracking for $15, which seemed more than reasonable. Despite my trust issues when it comes to Ruby, we left her on the ramp and let them get on with it. I showed them how to adjust the camber and they were happy for us to make sure the correct data was used on the computer. They were also happy to let us watch, which made me feel better. Our tracking was nearly 9mm out of line—no wonder the camper had been pulling so hard and had shredded a tyre. Now we were back within tolerance; getting camber angles right on Ruby is always a pain. We paid up and drove out. They said they could look at the brakes, but not for a few days, and we knew they couldn’t do the full job anyway. What we needed was the specialist workshop that relines brakes, but we didn’t even know what it was called.

We continued on, stopping wherever we could, asking for recommendations or finding likely-looking places on Google. Eventually we arrived at a brake shop, and after explaining the situation, the mechanic understood what we wanted. He gave us the name of the specialist place that relines brakes. He said that if we were happy to bring the parts ourselves, we could just take them there—or they could do it for us. There seemed no point in getting someone else to do something we could manage ourselves, so we made a note of the shop and decided to come up with a plan later.

The weekend was coming, so we decided this would be a problem for next week. In the meantime, we hung out at the boat club and enjoyed the sun. It had turned out to be an excellent place to stay. Even over the weekend it was relatively quiet. We had one run-in with a neighbour because of Lexi—she ran into the long grass behind her house, which isn’t fenced off and is just the edge of the car park. We were both there peering in when she came back with her daughter. She was a little short with us at first, obviously wondering what the two weirdos were doing behind her house, but once we explained she warmed up and was friendly. The same house also let us use their outside water tap, so we could stay longer and even wash clothes over the weekend. We also popped down to the local pub and spent a breezy afternoon watching windsurfers out over the bay.

When the new week rolled around, we got ready to finish a few bits and pieces.

Fixing Ruby’s minor issues wasn’t the only thing on the list. We also decided to take our drone in for a service. As you can imagine, it’s not common to find places that do this, and about the only time you get the chance is in a capital city. We headed to the only place listed and spent a while trying to park. After ditching Ruby in a probably-not-allowed spot in the pouring rain, we dashed inside, only to be told we were in the wrong place. With the correct address, we went and dropped off the drone.

Next was the tyre. With the front tracking re-aligned, Ruby drove like a different vehicle. All we needed was a replacement for the shredded tyre we were still using. This proved harder than expected. Our size wasn’t available anywhere, and after asking around I resorted to Facebook Marketplace. Eventually I found one response. For around $200 they had a new tyre. It wasn’t the same brand, but it was all-terrain and would do the job. It was still expensive—about double the price in Chile—but with the spare also very worn, we didn’t have much choice. It was a long drive, over an hour despite being in the city. I arranged to meet the seller, and he agreed to fit the tyre and dispose of the old one in the price.

This was in the north-west of the city, so we decided to combine it with a visit to Tigre. We were determined to do at least some of the touristy things this time—we had done so little on our previous visit. Tigre is a famous part of the city, a suburb along the river that offers boats and water taxis into the delta. This vast river system is home to many houses, hotels, and restaurants, all accessible only by boat. It seemed like something different, so after picking up the new tyre we went and camped by the river, ready to head out the next morning.

TIGRE

We had a surprisingly loud night. Two locals set up camping chairs directly behind us on the riverfront and began fishing at around midnight. We listened to their unsuccessful attempts to the sound of 80s synth music until I dragged myself out of bed at 3am and drove a few hundred metres down the road for peace and quiet.

The next morning, despite being tired, we walked down to the boat terminal. You can either catch a local “bus boat” or a taxi boat. We didn’t really know where we were going, so we picked a place called Tres Bocas mainly because it appeared on the map. Then we walked several miles to the terminal. The boats run at least once a day, so you have to make sure you get the right one at the right time. You also have to stand in the correct queue for the correct window, as each serves a different route. After a while of studying the screens, we eventually got the right ticket. The ticket didn’t even state where or when the boat departed. After more detective work, we found what we assumed was the correct jetty and confirmed on boarding that it was indeed the right boat.

After an hour bouncing along the waterways and passing expensive homes with private boat ramps, we arrived at our destination. We were the last off the boat. From there we wandered along the river and then back along a smaller channel. There wasn’t much to do except explore, so we did that for a while before heading to a restaurant for food.

We ordered two fillets of what I think was a type of sole, and two beers to wash it down. Then we sat in the sun watching boats go past. We asked about the return boats and got mixed information, so we made sure we left enough time. When we saw one approaching, we quickly finished our drinks and hopped on board. Being stuck overnight in the delta was not an option.

Once we got back, we decided to drive back to our familiar boat club spot. The girls wanted to go out, and we didn’t fancy another night of 80s synth.