Last Tango in Buenos Aires

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It’s a testament to my party week in Buenos Aires that I don’t recall a whole lot of what I actually did. I know I arrived by night bus from Bariloche, and that the bus featured a god-awful movie with Phoebe from Friends and a less famous Wayans brother, the combination of which seriously made me want to use the escape hammer to smash a window and jump out onto the highway. So I put on my headphones, listened to a Jon Stewart rant on my iPod, avoided the worse-than-airline food, and breezed into the capital of Argentina trying to forget all the hype.

After speaking to dozens of travelers making their way south as I made my north, it would seem that Buenos Aires is made up of 14 million beautiful girls who all eat large slabs of meat, and want nothing more than to make out with gringos. B.A, I was told, is the colour on the wings of South America’s famous social butterfly, the heart of passion that beats zest and fire throughout the veins of the entire continent. Buckets of hype all this, and we all know that avoiding expectations is the secret to happy travel. Still, I arrived at the Milhouse HIN Youth Hostel somewhat apprehensive, even a little nervous, for the week of debauchery I was told to expect ahead. Good instinct. It was 9am in the morning, and The Milhouse was throbbing with energy. Music blaring (the ubiquitous Kylie Minogue), dozens of scruffy youngsters beaming with their strapping backpacks, handsome orange T-shirted staff screaming and bopping - it was like walking into a Coca-Cola commercial. Other residents were also arriving, hollow-eyed and zombiefied from the night out. I half expected someone to yell “Toga Party!” and John Belushi to come flying down the stairs, except it would have to be Jim, because John is busy partying in the big Frat Party in the Sky. Unlike most youth hostels, The Milhouse makes you pay upfront because they don’t really know how many people are in the place at any one time (”between 130 and 150,” says Carolina), and set a 2 week maximum stay because otherwise they wouldn’t be able to get rid of you. Centrally located off the 16 lane main drag on Ave 9 de Julio, next to a suspiciously low-key porn theatre and opposite a goth-techno club, The Milhouse provides just about everything a traveler could want: Daily activities; free Tango and Salsa lessons; a cheap, 24-hour bar; DJ’d parties twice a week; great-looking friendly staff; free Internet; clean toilets; laundry; in-house tour agency; shuttles to the best nightclubs - you can see why there’s no reason for travelers to go anywhere elseÉthat is, unless they need sleep. Exhausted from my night bus, I stumbled across the technique that allowed me to survive, barely, seven nights at The Milhouse. Sleep in the afternoon, because you’re not going to sleep at night.

Later that evening: We ran out the strip club, laughing nervously, craning our necks to see if any meatheads with double-barreled necks were following. Fortunately, the cab was there, but as soon as we jumped in, he jumped out, and something smelt rotten in Denmark. “Let’s get out of here,” said Mathilde from Holland, so we jumped out and hoofed into the deserted streets, giggling at the lunacy of it all. We also shared the sudden realization that we had left Jody from New Zealand at the mercy of a bloodsucking lap dancer. Should we never see him again, at least it was with a smile on his face. It started innocently enough, a few beers, a few pitches, a few tequilas for ANZAC Day (courtesy the shiny-skulled Jody), and a cab ride to “somewhere cool”. It was Monday, the slowest night of the week, and while the majority of cabbies are honest and helpful, this guy was on the take. He dropped us like sardines in the mouth of Willy - a dodgy strip club waiting to prey on innocent gringos. After five minutes, the heavy-set owner wanted $50US for the two beers they insisted we have gratis when we arrived, and without Mathilde’s no-nonsense Spanish and big blue eyes, I’d probably end up like Jody, who got back to the Milhouse at 2pm the following day, having been fleeced for $150US. Buenos Aires welcomes Modern Gonzo.

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