sábado 17.05 --- La confusión --- Confusion

Once again we arose later than intended. The night life in Rosario (or in Argentina as a whole for that matter) is well known for its ability to push into the early hours of the morning. And last night was no exception. Argentine youths crept back into the hostel as late as 07:30 this morning. Their clamoring up the hostel’s stairs served as an early wake up call, yet we were unable to move from our beds due to fatigue. This is not a complaint, solely an observation in the difference between American and Argentine lifestyles and partying hours.

We were out of the door by 10:30 and were in search of Ernesto ‘Che’ Guevara’s house of birth and brief residence. The guidebook said it was a must see, so the hostel worker, Martín, showed us on the map where to find it. We came to the block where it was located but found nothing. There was a small plaza with a picture of Che. Steven and I were confused and disappointed. With the warm sun beating down on us, we pressed onward towards the Río Paraná. We were met with many stray dogs (the entire country is filled with them) and a beautiful riverside view. We scaled the river and eventually came to the Monument of the National Flag.

Lounging along the Paraná.

Some 200 years ago, Manuel Belgrano (Argentina statesmen and freedom fighter) designed the simplistic yet symbolic national flag. The monument itself was a bit of an eye sore at first. It was mostly a large obelisk of unpolished marble. After surveying the grounds, however, the monument wasn’t that bad. To the rear of the towering obelisk stood some impressive fountains, sculptures and Roman columns. Underneath the columns sat an eternal flame for fallen soldiers during the country’s independence wars. We were originally fearful that the stairs would go on for ever and we’d be drenched in sweat by the time we reached the top. This was not the case as we were greeted by an elevator attendant who saw us to the top. We entered the monument, read the sacred writing explaining its history and climbed the stairs which took us to an elevator to the top.

Steven in front of the "Cradle of the National Flag"

The Río Paraná from the top.

The view from the top was breath taking, as we tool our obligatory pictures. We could look out all four faces of the monument; it required some shuffling past other tourists in a very small hallway. We came back down and saw a park, some mounted howitzers/cannons, and several artisans setting up shop along the banks of the river. We proceeded to the tourist information, still in search of Che’s house. They kindly aimed us in the right direction. We found the apartment complex which is still in use today! There is no exhibit or museum, only a small, red flag that flies over one of the windows that reads casa natal de Che Guevara, and an adjacent plaza with a small mural. We could have kicked ourselves for missing it the first time. Disappointed, we didn’t even take a picture to log our visit to the revolutionary’s house.

Steven at Che's plaza with a friend.

Instead we went to lunch. We went to a restaurant named El Mejor or The Best, which lived up to its expectations as its name would suggest. We both had entrecot (a steak) and went back to the hostel to freshen up. We picked up some warmer clothes in anticipation of the weather getting colder and headed to Plaza de la Independencia. In search of a garden we never found, we settled for a long stroll in the park which was very reminiscent of Madrid’s El Retiro (not to be confused with B.A.’s bus station). I say this because the park was a family setting, filled with football games and paddle boats in its man-made reservoir. It was as large and beautiful as its Spanish counterpart too.

We departed and sought out the city museum for some history. We did so only to be snubbed again and found no museum, nor any pedestrians who knew of its whereabouts or in one case its existence. I do not respect the city with what I am about to say, but Rosario is not a tourist friendly city. The people are friendly, but that is it. If you don’t know where you’re going, chances are you won’t find your destination. We caught a cab and drove up lengthy Oroño Boulevard and found the modern art museum that had been recommended to us by various sources.

Plaza de la Independencia.

We arrived at the museum and were impressed by its outside. It looked like an old refinery, with six tanks panted in vibrantly different colors. The inside proved to be another disappointment on the day. Perhaps it’s because I’m not a big fan of modern art. Or maybe I don’t get it. Whatever the reason, the museum did not sit well with me. I found the lack of variance in pieces boring and some pieces too droll to be called art. The highpoint for me was seeing a digitally modified shot of El Prado and a motorbike race taking place inside. This day had me thinking of Madrid and how I must go back. Even the lookout over the city wasn’t anything to write about (even though I’m mentioning it now). We left the museum and browsed the artisans fair but found nothing.

The Modern Art Museum.

We walked along the river again and encountered a myriad of football games. We found a small café, had some Quilmes and relaxed a bit. After being mercilessly attacked by mosquitoes, we retreated to out hostel. The cockroaches on ground and sidewalks throughout the city made our flight form the park a slow one. Rosario is not a very clean city, and I began to wonder what I was getting myself into. We had dinner around 21:00 and retired for the night. Tomorrow our bus leaves in the early morning and will last for seven hours. What a confusing city this is.

Dapple, Sancho, and I.