The next day was unbelievably exciting. Having resolved our business at the embassy, we went back to Giramondo (which has by the way established itself as a truly great hostel) and waited outside by a cafe. Incredibly refreshing agua con gas (by now a staple) gave us relief from the sun as we waited for our new companion, who appeared at last from crowds of meandering Argentines. None other than the infamous Tom Stubbs.
From here our adventures took a dramatic turn that lasted through every moment of the two weeks my dad was with us. Now Casey and I are adventurous, no doubt, but with Tom Stubbs at the helm, adventures take on a fever pitch. With no respite, save for five minute afternoon naps. But I'm getting ahead of myself. We haven't even left BA yet. That first afternoon we had a luxuriant lunch of guacamole grilled chicken under the cool shelter of the trees at las cabras, and then spent the afternoon giving dad a tour of Palermo, our part of town which we now knew like locals. Or at least like moderately well established tourists. In the afternoon we had an abortive attempt to show him the cool shady loveliness of a nap in the Botanical gardens, but were rudely interrupted by a security guard who refused to allow us to lie on the grass. Fair enough, far be it from me to want to relax in a park. So we lay down on the gravel path. Now Tom Stubbs only needs a five minute nap to recover from 24 hours of sleepless travel but before minutes had passed our buddy was back, growling jefe, you must get up. So an attempted nap on a park bench. This was also interrupted and abandoned. Our peaceful haven had been turned into a war zone. But, knowing the strength of the Argentine Botanical Association, we recognized defeat and beat a rapid retreat. We were refreshed by hot showers and a drink on a rooftop terrace overlooking Plaza Serrano, the lively beating heart of Palermo. Afterwards we met up with a friend of a friend of my dads who took us out to dinner. Just so happened this distant acquaintance was a super chic Argentine couple who were world travelers, lived in the fanciest part of town, and only went to the finest restaurants. We were sitting two tables down from the former president of Argentina. Yes, that kind of fancy restaurant. This was our first opportunity for real Argentine Parilla (grill) of the highest order, so we ordered steak, steak, and steak, with a side of malbec (generally regarded as Argentinas viticultural specialty). Incredibly, after a starter of sausage, grilled pork fat, and cheese, the meal arrived an it truly was just a steak. Not steak and potatoes, nor steak and salad but steak, a steak that weighs the same as my little sister and was as big as my head (which if you know is pretty big sometimes). The steak were huge. Eating them was a Herculean feat that required strategy and stamina, and large quantities of water. Little did we know, we would wake up later in the night sweating feverishly and screaming" No More please I just want water". But in fact the meal was excellent, the wine good, the restaurant stunning, and the chic company very entertaining. We slept like the dead that night.