Tango in (the) Paris (of South America)

Buenos Aires has been roasting so far. I am nearly willing to concede to the earlier snippet about the heat here being 'oppressive'. Then I remember the alternative of Cambridgeshire in January.

However I will admit to being drained by a day of exploring this excellent place. The city flicks rapidly between opulence and destitution. Expensive boutiques with the homeless sleeping on the steps are nestled alongside derelict buildings. The imposing hulk of the Boca Juniors football stadium sits within a poor barrio (district). The differences in wealth and the striking difficulty of some people's lives, while nothing like many Latin American cities, is more confronting than in the much more pedestrian Montevideo. I read about Buenos Aires once being termed the Paris of South America, for its grand boulevards. This description is so common for cities that I challenge readers of this blog to identify a place that hasn't received the title 'Paris of [insert geographical reference area]'.

Because it's hot but not cheap, I am needing to spend about 25 quid a day on refreshing drinks. When I stopped for a coffee in a traditional-looking café, I was more taken than seemed necessary with the cute way it was served, along with a cup of sparkling water and a plate of small sweet snacks (which were kind of like brownies made with dulce de leche).

I have much admiration for Argentine family outings to the heladería (ice cream shop). It's heartwarming to see multiple generations going en masse and eating together on the pavement. Most of all I love seeing old ladies, shopping trolley with tomatoes poking out, rewarding themselves with a cup of ice cream on their way back from the verduria (vegetable store). Eating ice cream anywhere and at any time of day needs to be made more socially acceptable across the British Isles.

The city is noticeably 'non-insecty' except for the odd cockroach on the pavement. However there are warning signs about dengue fever, which struck a chord given my recent brush with it.

The afternoon was spent in the Reserva Ecológica Costanera Sur, a nature reserve that buffers the city and the huge River Plate estuary. It's a great example of plunging into relative solitude so close to a huge metropolis. I walked some of its paths at around 1 kilometre per hour, to limit sweating, and then dozed under a tree.

Elsewhere I noticed many women wearing chunky cork-soled shoes, tourist tango displays in plazas, a homeless child studiously working through a puzzle book and many peeling shoulders, indicating that Argentinians also overdo it in the sun. Other reminders of home came in the form of red pillar boxes on street corners, discarded bottles of alcopop and a squat Argentinian Mr Bean lookalike.