Roaming in Recoleta

I attempt to sleep off the late night, but with six other girls getting ready for the day, I decide that I am probably better walking it off in the city of the dead – Recoleta Cemetary. It is here that Evita and her husband, and former Argentinian president, Juan Domingo Perón have been laid to rest amongst the city’s most affluent families, lawyers, architects, doctors, engineers and military men – right beside a Village Cinema complex and McDonald’s.

Making my way there, I pass by a few men on the way who look like they should be on the other side of the 10m-high red-brick wall, not sleeping on the French-inspired boulevards that are full of pure-breds and their faeces. Statues nosily poke out over the top of the imposing barrier, as if they are still trying to keep an eye on the city they have left, as I trudge around to the entrance.

Once through the imposing Greek gates, I wander through the many blocks of mausoleums and am surrounded by tombs in various aging states, in a range of sizes, colours, and decorations. Jazz music blares through from the nearby markets and a rotten foosty smell follows me down almost every path. And for once Lonely Planet is right when they say to just follow the crowds to Evita – number 57 on the map. The Peron wrought iron tomb door is stuffed with fake flowers and a vintage image of Eva, and surrounded by a line a people wanting their photo with her already decayed remains. A little strange, I think, wanting to be so close to someone so dead.

Outside again, I stroll through the market stalls, passing tarot card readers, statue-performers and lots of photographs of tango poses. Cheese and meats are also on display, as are jewellery and brightly decorated leather satchels. On my way down to the Museo Nacional de Bellas Artes, I stumble across the Cultural Centre, but the only interest inside seems to be the Ticketek office – selling tickets to a dragon show for kids.

I finally decide it is time to eat something, and grab a “pane relleno” from the nearest Mum-and-daughter-manned picnic basket. I really have no idea what it is, with a teatowel concealing its appearance, but reading the list of ingredients, I decided it should be safe. Surprisingly still hot, it is a bit like a pizza pocket - a dome-like mound of bread, filled with bocconcini, tomato and ham. Yum!

Feeling revitalised, I walk down the Paseo de los Artisanias, past a band set up in the park, pounding out their Spanish rock tunes, and over the pedestrian bridge to what I thought was the museum (a large imposing building is usually the key). But I soon realise that this impressive building is actually the Law School of the University of Buenos Aires, and the museum is actually the red building in front.

Not quite the building I expected, with its plain salmon façade, it doesn’t even have a foyer. And as I work through the various rooms, it continues to prove itself an interesting design, with lots of little rooms and small hallway galleries full of an interesting collection of local and international art.

By far the stand-out is the black and white photographic exhibition by Albelardo Morell. His cleverly focussed double exposures pit the contemporary against the historical as we wanders through the collection of the Museo Gardner. His money series also highlights his ability to play with subjects, changing perspectives to make them transcend time and space. Pure genius.