We boarded an overnight flight from Lisbon in November 2023, hearts full of anticipation for three weeks in South America. Touching down at Ezeiza, we collected our luggage and navigated the steady hum of taxis toward the city’s vibrant core. The transition from Atlantic grey skies to Buenos Aires’s warm light felt like stepping into a living film set—grand boulevards, pastel façades, and the distant echo of street vendors greeting a new day.
Buenos Aires greets you with wide, tree-lined avenues—Avenida del Libertador and Avenida 9 de Julio stretch out like stage backdrops. Towering palms mingle with Art Nouveau details on century-old buildings, and trolleybuses glide past cafés where porteños linger over cortados. Every intersection offers a contrast: modern glass towers beside crumbling neoclassical façades, each hinting at layers of history and reinvention.
At Plaza de Mayo, history feels tactile—Maria Eva’s balcony at Casa Rosada, the bronze outlines of protest under ancient jacarandas. On Sunday mornings, we strolled through San Telmo’s market, where leather artisans and antique stalls spread out beneath colonial arches. Tango dancers paused mid-spin for tourists, and the brassy notes of street musicians rose among weathered cobblestones.
La Boca’s brightly painted houses on Caminito felt like a carnival frozen in time. Here, murals narrate stories of immigration and football passion. We traced every shade of blue and yellow, pausing for photographs against corrugated iron fronts. A midday visit to Boca Juniors’ La Bombonera stadium reminded us that sport and neighborhood pride are inseparable in porteño culture.
By afternoon, Palermo’s leafy barrios beckoned with eclectic boutiques and street art murals. We hunted down alfajores in hidden patisseries and lingered over platefuls of empanadas in sunlit plazas. As dusk fell, we slipped into a tanguería—dark wood, low lighting, and the ache of bandoneón notes. Watching dancers move in perfect tension, our family felt swept into the city’s heartbeat.
Evenings became a ritual of parilla dinners: thick cuts of bife de chorizo grilled over embers, slices of provoleta dripping with oregano. We toasted Malbec under leafy terraces, toasting long days of discovery. Late at night, we found solace in lamplit cafés, sipping dulce de leche espresso while planning the next day’s route.
© 2026 Francisco Morais