Dad came back with me to La Casa Naranja (as I call the orange-painted house I live in) to see where I've been staying. Not much to see, but it was still fun showing him my Argentina life. Then he set off on a run and I headed towards the subway to go downtown.
|I don't think I've seen a non-graffitied subway here|
The tour was at noon, so I sat in the cafe and enjoyed the coffee and wifi for an hour. The tour was excellent, teaching me wonderful tidbits like that the tiled floor is made of two million individual tiny pieces, and only the people who buy the most expensive tickets get to enter through the main doors. Poor people come in through the sides and are shepherded straight to their seats, not even getting a glimpse of the grand lobby.
|The guide telling us there are two million of these tiny pieces in the floor|
|The first floor is architecturally distinct from the second because the first architect died suddenly only six months into the project.|
|This painted ceiling is painted cloth, supposedly, and the gold molding is real gold.|
|Box seats in Teatro Colón|
Léa met me at the cafe, then we walked together to Palacio Barolo, a super cool building based on Dante's The Divine Comedy. The first floor represents hell and is decorated with evil-looking serpents and birds of prey, and firey tiles on the floor. The 16 or so floors in the middle are offices, representing purgatory. And then there's a lighthouse tower on the top, representing heaven. We got to go to the very very top, where the light is. It was kind of terrifying, even for me (I love high places) because it was a tiny space with glass all around. I was afraid of the possibility of someone falling through the glass. But regardless, it was a rejuvenating top-of-the-world feeling.
|In "heaven"! On top of Palacio Barolo, downtown Buenos Aires. With Léa and her friend from Boston College.|
|Why I was afraid: the guide told us to sit on these glass window panes!|
|Pretending we work in this 1920's office in Palacio Barolo|