Won't cry for you, Argentina

When I first visited Vienna in 1976 as a student, it seemed gray, noisy, and unattractive. Fifteen years later, I moved there from Maine - and have loved the city ever since. Similarly, my Buenos Aires permière is no love on first sight; it is affected by windy and damp winter weather, a lingering cough, and of course the fact that I have no friends to visit here. But I am happy to have finally seen this bubbling mixture of Italian (people), Spanish (language), Portuguese (pronunciation), British (tea leaves and a sieve!) and other influences (only - where are the natives?). One of the funniest combinations to watch are Italian tempered passengers queuing up diligently at bus stations, while honking cars pass by doubling up in lanes... The cafés are legendary, and Tortoni is wonderful indeed, while Iberia is a tad more modern, with power outlets in addition to wi-fi, and a waiter who shakes hands on my third visit. I spend mornings there, hiding from the wind and catching up on some work that doesn't wait, and enjoy afternoon excursions to Caminito, Santelmo, and especially Palermo Viejo. Hotel Central, right next to Congreso (at Solis 192), costs a mere 28€ a night and is one of these charming, but rapidly disappearing simple pensions with a rattling elevator and a padrone watching kindly over his guests.