The Pink House:
Presidential PalaceIn the courtyard.
Palace guards.Eva Peron & Zapata; Latin American heroes.
I downloaded more pictures, but they are lost in cyberspace!
Saturday, Oct. 30
Today is sunny, but the wind is blowing like crazy. I see on the news later in the day that a sign has been blown down from a building and injures some local waiting at a bus stop!
We discover that the included breakfast is a step above what we are used to. There are sliced cold-cuts and cheese, as well as fresh fruit salad added to the buffet spread. Like a good, cheap Canadian, I decide to make this my brunch. Works for me!
We decide we will take the tour bus, but on our way we notice a number pf people lined-up at the gate to the “Pink House” (Presidential Palace). So we wait, and sure enough, at 10 a.m. - almost sharp - they open the gates and the free tours begin. The first stop is a gallery of portraits of famous Latin American politicians, done to celebrate the bi-centennial of Argentina’s independence - 1810 - 2010. We are not disappointed in the grandeur of the place. By the time we get finished and to the bus stop for the tour bus, the line there is prohibitive, so we will return on Sunday.
We spend the day wandering around the Florida Street pedestrian mall, going to the Congressional Palace at the far end of rue de Mayo, and getting some dressier pants for Peter and I so we don’t look like such tourist hicks when we go out to dinner in the city. I finish the afternoon hemming the pants while Peter continues the computer search for places to stay and buses to catch as we continue to travel next Friday.
Now that Peter is better, I have developed some kind of allergy. I have these horrid ably-itchy bite-like bumps on my back, one leg, and one arm. They are blistery, like the ones I got a few years ago when I trimmed the diphanbocia plant. The only thing different is that I have been drinking more wine than usual and eating peanuts. I decide to stop eating the peanuts and get an antihistamine from the pharmacy. Nothing like self-prescribing!
Late to dinner, as usual. We are getting into the S. American mode.
Today is sunny, but the wind is blowing like crazy. I see on the news later in the day that a sign has been blown down from a building and injures some local waiting at a bus stop!
We discover that the included breakfast is a step above what we are used to. There are sliced cold-cuts and cheese, as well as fresh fruit salad added to the buffet spread. Like a good, cheap Canadian, I decide to make this my brunch. Works for me!
We decide we will take the tour bus, but on our way we notice a number pf people lined-up at the gate to the “Pink House” (Presidential Palace). So we wait, and sure enough, at 10 a.m. - almost sharp - they open the gates and the free tours begin. The first stop is a gallery of portraits of famous Latin American politicians, done to celebrate the bi-centennial of Argentina’s independence - 1810 - 2010. We are not disappointed in the grandeur of the place. By the time we get finished and to the bus stop for the tour bus, the line there is prohibitive, so we will return on Sunday.
We spend the day wandering around the Florida Street pedestrian mall, going to the Congressional Palace at the far end of rue de Mayo, and getting some dressier pants for Peter and I so we don’t look like such tourist hicks when we go out to dinner in the city. I finish the afternoon hemming the pants while Peter continues the computer search for places to stay and buses to catch as we continue to travel next Friday.
Now that Peter is better, I have developed some kind of allergy. I have these horrid ably-itchy bite-like bumps on my back, one leg, and one arm. They are blistery, like the ones I got a few years ago when I trimmed the diphanbocia plant. The only thing different is that I have been drinking more wine than usual and eating peanuts. I decide to stop eating the peanuts and get an antihistamine from the pharmacy. Nothing like self-prescribing!
Late to dinner, as usual. We are getting into the S. American mode.
good to hear Dad is better. Let us know when those spider eggs in your back hatch!
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