So my plane left at 6:00 pm on my last day (Sunday), and I wanted to get in as much of Buenos Aires as I could, so I was determined to get up early and spend the day out in the city.
PLUS, there is a HUGE antiques market down in San Telmo on Saturdays, so of course, I was plotzzing in my pants to get down there with enough time to leisurely peruse the stands.
They close off one of the old streets and it basically becomes a huge pedestrian bazaar. I was pretty happy… but before you get to the main square, the wares aren’t as exciting… lots of chackis and, like, tango dancers made out of bottle caps and shit like that.
THEN. Then, you get to the main square, and it’s like antique heaven. There were SO MANY STANDS. I got lost at one point.
Anyways. I happened to have a shopping chaperone who was annoying me because he is not an antiquer and doesn’t understand my orgasmic love of old shit. It put a bit of a damper on things, so we grabbed lunch.
The concierge recommended this restaurant that is really hard to find – it’s basically up some secret stairway on the street. But then, when you get up there, you realize it has the best location in the neighbourhood – basically DIRECTLY ABOVE the antique market. We sat on this smallllll tinnny balcony that was just barely big enough to hold a table and two chairs.
STILL PALER THAN A PORK SAUSAGE.
Anyways, once lunch was over, it was time to check some more shit out. I stumbled by this huge store that was clearly more professionally maintained and curated than any of the other antique places there. So much awesome stuff. I didn’t even look at the prices because I’m fucking poor.
OH WHAT? No big deal:
Stuff and stuff and stuff. Bought my gaucho belt and skeleton keys and native necklace amongst these stands.
Sigh. And then my trip came to an end. As I was leaving the market on my way to my LONG AND EXCRUCIATING fourteen hour overnight flight, Mr. Tango Man tango-ed me out of Argentina: