[The street where the artists sell their…art. Photo is mine]

Is it me or is the temperature 90° F?

~~Patrick Egan (January, 12, 2025)

“Oh, you simply must go to the Flea Market at Plaza Dorrego in San Telmo,” said our landlady, Flor. She has an appropriate tat on her right forearm. It’s a beautiful flower. At first I thought. she worked at the Botanical Garden. But she doesn’t.

The Uber pulled over across Defense Street. I knew we were here because of the hundreds of people who were gathering on the corner. A street Dixieland-style band played at the corner. This was the place where the San Telmo Flea Market unofficially begins. It was a Sunday afternoon. And it was hot.

[The band. The street corner. Video is mine]

I was looking for some sort of memento, an item to hold in my hand and recall this visit to Buenos Aires. It didn’t have to be something large like a gaucho’s saddle, or a meat grinder for their legendary beef. Or something rare and valuable like a 19th century copper-framed mirror or a bust of Elvis. Nor could it be something small and easily misplaced in our apartment back in New York, like a 1930s pocket watch or a even a fob for said watch. No, I was looking for something edgy, unique, interesting like…a gaucho’s knife. Or a set of Bola Balls.

I looked over the knives carefully. My interest was piqued by a handsome one with a horn handle. I checked on that again when we walked back to where the Uber would take us home. Then I saw the Bola Balls. I once owned an original Frisbee (until a neighbor’s dog chewed it up). But a real set of Bola Balls. Now that would look grand on our wall.

[The Bola Ball set of my dreams. Just in case you’re unfamiliar, these are used in hunting and capturing four-legged beasts, wild and tame. Saves on learning the lasso thing. Photo is mine]

We walked on, with Mariam helping me from falling on the mean cobblestone street. My foot, remember.

Music drifted from blues bars on the second floor above cafes. If you paused for more than thirty seconds at a booth, a thin aged man with chin stubble or his weary wife would come to you, eager to let you pick it up, try it, touch it and, hopefully buy it. The younger men were more aggressive in their approach, almost taking your arm, leading you toward more goods in the boxes at the back end of his table.

We walked on. On to Plaza Dorrego. More booths, A hundred more booths. The items for sale numbered in the thousands. I wanted all the beautiful little things, and I wanted none of them. I only wanted what I had set out to get.

And original art was one of those desired items. So we looked, we bartered, we walked away and came back. Did they take credit cards? Only cash? No thank you. We finally settled on two pieces, one with the watercolor paint almost, almost still wet. The cost to us? About $40 USD. A good deal as far as I’m concerned.

[Video is mine]

By that time of the day, I had lost seven pounds of body moisture through my pores. The SPF on my arms had melted away an hour ago. We were both a little peckish so we took an outside seat at a cafe and ordered classic lemonades for both of us. We ordered french fries. The drinks came and we waited for the fries. And we waited and waited, like the poor people in Casablanca, waiting and waiting for the letters of transit. As we sat, the hot afternoon sun crept higher in the sky and slowly toward the two of us huddled against the disappearing shade against the wall of the restaurant. Finally, just as the Infrared and UV rays reached the pepper mill (my lemonade was next!) our fries arrived. Just in time. I was about to phone the American Embassy over on JFK Avenue.

This blog site of mine is not TripAdvisor or Yelp, so I will make no comment about the fries. We ate most of them and left.

Back at the Plaza Dorrego, in a corner of the park where there were no booths, a small speaker was playing the music that I recognized.

Then the couple, a dark and handsome man and his partner, a black-haired woman of rare beauty, her earrings black and matching her clothes…began to dance.

Here they are: And I will be back soon with another episode…

[The Tango Dancers in the Park. Video is mine]