New Years Eve is always a strange night I find. One always feels they need to make a big deal about it, but all we end up doing is going to extremes. Drinking too much, doing things we would never usually do, sometimes with people we would never do them with, running down the street screaming with sparklers alight in each hand...etc.
But New Years Eve in Buenos Aires was exceptionally odd. All year I had imagined it would be a night of awesome latin fiesta and pizazz, lots of salsa music, dancing in the streets, handsome people everywhere, some tango here and there, beautiful Argentinian wine, and streamers, fireworks, the lot...
But when the three of us left our hostel ready for a night of partying we were met with a strange silence. Our footsteps echoed as we wandered down the empty streets of San Telmo. BA seemed to be dead. The bars were closed, so were the restaurants. What was going on?
Looking back now though the warning signs had been there. Being hopeful Aussie tourists used to a national NYE that borders on the barbaric we ignored these signs or got distracted before we could read into them. We assumed all capitals must celebrate NYE like us Sydney-siders do.
In the lead up to the night my two travel companions and myself had been trying to somewhat gauge how NYE pans out in BA. It was so strange though, we didn't hear about any parties, any major events, no fireworks, no street closures...it was just this strange blank, an absence of information. Maybe these things aren't advertised like they are here in Sydney, we thought. Surely, on the night we will find ourselves swept up into a crowd and carried along where the night takes us. Yeah, exactly, why worry about this absence of information? Oh look San Telmo markets!
The only recommendation we found for a NYE activity was in a Lonely planet guide I think. Apparently an english comedy bar a few blocks from our hostel was really good. We could laugh our way into the new year. Anyway, it was our only option...so we leapt at the opportunity.
As I said before, setting out around 8 to see the comedy, we were struck by how unnervingly lifeless the streets of our usually bustling neighbourhood were. All the ice cream shops, pizza parlours, even the liquor stores were all closed. How strange. We wandered around missing the comedy bar several times, probably due to not only poor signage but to the fact it was closed, more than closed, it was as dead as the rest of the street it was on. The lights were out, the door was locked and there was definitely no comedy on. Our first and last resort for NYE shenanigans had fallen through
Sighing and puzzled we sat on the bars front step, waiting in the sticky heat for our fourth NYE companion to join us, as they were meeting us here, coming from a different part of the city. We joked and mused as to why everything was so dead, was there a secret party underground or something? A secret party foreigners are not invited to? Were we not cool enough?
We were still sitting musing when some drunk men ambled by slowly. I shifted in my seat suddenly feeling uncomfortable under their seedy gaze in the middle of this deserted and dark street in downtown BA. Suddenly a scream was heard from an adjacent street. A woman's voice began hurling abuse in Spanish, evidently directed at a man stalking towards us from this road. The woman pursued him still cursing and yelling abuse. The drunks then stepped into action. I am not sure what crime this man had committed but these drunks assuming role of guardians of BA Street Justice decided he deserved punishment.
One of the drunk men stepped forward and slugged him across the face with a violence that made his knees buckle. He fell to the ground. Before he could get up the same drunk struck again, this time he kicked the man square in the jaw with a force that I am sure must have nearly broken his jaw, some teeth, something. The other drunks moved in.
Watching this from the other side of the street my travel companions and I gasped. The sudden violence of it was harrowing. I closed my eyes, terrified this was going to escalate into something I didn't want to see. Were they going to beat this man to death? In the middle of the street? In front of us? Should we stop them?
Fortunately it didn't. Time which had temporarily stopped, which tends to happen in moments of surreal violence, started once more. The man got up, shook his head as if trying to shake out the shock he absorbed from his jaw and power-Walked away, muttering under his breath. The drunks ambled on, the woman shuffled home. I finally took a breath and realised I was trembling. We then burst into questions. Oh my god, what just happened? I don't know! Were they defending that woman? For a second there I thought they were going to absolutely beat the shit out of him!
Then our friend arrived. Did you see what just happened we asked her? Yes, she did, she saw some of it. It was some kind of altercation wasn't it? Yes, now let's get the hell out of here! But where would we even go? the comedy isn't on, the bar is closed. Get dinner? Yes but everywhere is closed!
Even in the part middle of the city, where our friend had come from, everything was reportedly shut as well. We were going to have to rely on luck trying to even find a place to eat that night, Still a little dazed, we walked back to our hostel, to ask for some advice and we found on its doorstep the most 'happening' gathering we had seen so far, that being five guys drinking beers and chatting casually. Our hostel receptionists couldn't give us any tips. Try the main square of San Telmo?
Once there though our options were limited. We cried out in relief when we saw our first open restaurant But were turned away. People had made their bookings months ago we were not those people. We did a lap of the square but both of the only two options had incredibly overpriced set menus. We ended up going for a bar that from the outside appeared to be serving reasonbly priced food. However things got seriously lost in translation over yet another set menu with the waiter, who also appeared to have a glass eye. He didn't speak english and we didn't speak Spanish.
"So wait, it is 500 soles for the set meal NOT including drinks?"
"No only if you have dessert."
"Wait, what. We have to have dessert?"
"Yes if only 3 of you be eating."
"But can we just have a main course ?"
"No, but you can without wine."
"Then that's assuming we don't want dessert?" Suddenly he looked puzzled.
"What is this about dessert?!"
This went on for a good ten minutes. Two of my companions began itching for a solution. One of them very aptly summed up the mood at the table: " God, It's NYE, all I want to do is get sloshed!"
We ended up sneaking out of the bar when the waiter went to ask the chef whether we could just have main courses with drinks exempt from set price, or maybe it was whether we had to pay full price for just dessert, wine not included, I can't remember.
We finally found a restaurant. It was overpriced, the set menù was uninspiring but hey, at least we would finally get some alcohol into us, we needed it. The peace didn't last long. Soon we were informed by the manager that the table we were at had been reserved. Would we mind taking a Seat at a different table? We obliged, and began what would be a good 40 minute wait for our meals. Our cocktails disappeared into a blackhole and when we left we found the staff gathered around the counter engaged in what looked like a group session of counting up of the dough coin by coin. Money was everywhere. We managed to escape the premises without having to pay the ridiculously expensive bill they were convinced was ours and headed back to the hostel to contemplate our next move.
It was after midnight, we were now in the New Year and we decided that the night would finally kick off by heading into Palermo Soho, the nightlife hub of BA.Surely, surely....
Three of the four of us headed out, flagging a taxi in a deserted street through sheer dumb luck. It was the first taxi we had seen that night, and taxis being the ants of the transport kingdom that is saying something about the state of the BA that night.
Sure enough, Palermo was packed. People swarmed in a tight snail-shell formation wrapped around the central square. There was music, there were lights, there were fancy dresses, long queues, and people spilling out of overcrowded bars drinking on the street. But something was wrong. No one, I repeat no one was drunk. It was a bizzarely sober atmosphere for nightclub central. We were bitterly disappointed.
People seemed to always be heading somewhere, moving quickly, off and away...but to where? As if stunned to find out human activity can be motivated by reasons other than alcohol on nye, we shrugged and resolved to stick with what we knew best and get sloshed anyway.
We tried out a handful of bars that were decidedly deceitful. From the outside they screamed with their packed courtyards, music and flashing lights "Woooo Par-taaay!!!" Inside however people sat around casually sipping drinks as if it was an after-work function on a thursday evening. They were just chilling but soon would have to head off because they had to feed the cat and trim the bonsai.
We got some drinks into us, finally, but were distracted by the little girl and her mother seated next to us. Why take a child to a bar? Is this not a bit improper!? Maybe this is why we didn't seem to fit into BA on the brink of the new year. Because we ask tedious questions like this. But at the same time just want to get sloshed till we are sick and expose the general public to terrible moves on the dancefloor...a tad ironic I admit.
We ended up having a strange rest of the night. I remember some flirty BA teenagers, one of my companions running into someone they knew, and despite searching high and low not being able to fulfil our one and only desire left after a night of systematically lowering our NYE expectations: a good time on the dancefloor.
How a culture revered for the creation of perhaps the sexiest dance in the world, tango, cannot provide even one dancefloor on NYE I will not pretend to understand.
The next day we had no regrets, we had enjoyed ourselves, but were still puzzled. Why no excessive overly expensive fireworks paid for with tax-payers money? Why were no annoying street closures and traffic jams? Why no offensively accessible alcohol suppliers? Why no oppotunities to make a fool of oneself?
Oh well, we will just have to count on another typical Aussie NYE to enjoy these luxuries. And that's the great thing about NYE, there will always be another one.
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