At first sight this plaza didn’t float my boat. No character, I thought. Just a big space with a lot of grandiose buildings. The Casa Rosada presidential palace, the Catedral Metropolitana and the Cabildo to name but a few. Lonely Planet touts it as the city’s historic heart. I couldn’t feel it. But we went back. And then we went again. With each visit we saw something else, felt something else, and now it’s our second favourite plaza in the city. 

In the mornings it’s busy. Office workers and tourists criss-cross each other. Orange-juice and Pope-Francis-souvenir sellers stand on the cathedral steps, and touts from the double-decker tourist-bus companies hug whatever shade the tall buildings cast.

 In the heat of the afternoon it’s dead, but in the late afternoon, when the shadows grow longer, and the heat is less relentless, it comes alive. That’s when we take a seat on one of the concrete benches and watch. People lay on the grass, read, walk their dogs and meditate! Ice-cream sellers push styrofoam cool-boxes on bikes, and circle, shouting out ‘helado’, in more ways than we thought possible. Like salesmen anywhere, they have a patter, a manner. There seems to be no competition amongst them, they often stop to chat to one another. In a city this hot, perhaps everyone needs a constant supply of ice cream. 

Kids ride trikes and run and skate around the pyramid, a white obelisk, built to mark the first anniversary of independence from Spain. One evening, a group of women with flowers in their hair, shawls, and colourful long skirts, twirled and swirled around it, shouting ‘Viva la Frieda’. They were apparently advertising a theatre production but I slid a little further down the rabbit hole of this wacky, wonderful city. 

Of course there is tango. A married couple, she in a wheelchair, he pulling and pushing her effortlessly, beautifully, fluidly. She is passionate, their partnership undeniable. Together, they form a formidable team. To watch them is to be moved and inspired, to be reminded of what is possible in life. 

Sometimes we just sit and watch the huge flag on the giant flagpole in front of the Casa Rosada. There is something about a flag of that size. The smaller one on top of the Casa Rosada can be unmoving, but this mammoth furls and flexes like a ballet dancer, ripples and retracts, showing just a little and then a whole lot, teasing and graceful by turn. At 7 p.m., what I think of as the toy soldiers emerge from the palace to put the flag to bed for the night. It’s gently lowered and packed into a huge wooden case. Pomp and circumstance. 

And protest. The Madres – the mothers of the disappeared, those abducted by the state during the military dictatorship of 1976 and 1983, still gather every Thursday to circle the pyramid, holding photographs of their missing children. And there is a man who often stands in front of the Casa Rosada, in what looks like a blue dressing gown, scrawled with slogans in black pen, shouting for all he is worth. No-one takes any notice. And there have been bigger protests against the new president.  We were in the cathedral, when protesters marching from Congress joined with those on the plaza and the crowd swelled. The cathedral shut its doors for security, but made everyone leave first, which seemed to be a little unchristian. 

The homeless are also everywhere in this city. 40% of Argentinians live below the poverty line. There is a lady who has a ‘living room’ under the colonades near the Ministry of Economics. She lays on a stack of mattresses, her belongings spread all around her. When the cathedral closes, people take shelter on its steps and once I watched kids search the bins for food in between chasing pigeons and dunking themselves in one of the fountains. Carefree and yet burdened. 

Far from characterless, Plaza de Mayo reflects life in the big city in all of its guises; both it’s historic heart, and it’s living soul. 

Practical Stuff. 

 The Cabildo offers great views of the plaza from it’s second floor and has toilets!

Eating. 

The nearest cafe to the plaza is Pertutti, Av. Hipolito Yrigoyen 500. Has the atmosphere of a notable. Does very good lemonade. 

La Puerto Rico, Adolfo Alsina 416 is less than a 5 min walk away. You can read about it here: https://wordpress.com/post/thewonderer86.com/8123

Monastery Santa Catalina, San Martin 705. 15 min walk. Open Mon-Fri 09.00-18.00. Closed weekends. This place is gorgeous, peaceful and a complete surprise. Dining in the courtyard of a monastery. We had fabulous (and huge) salads with avocado and haloumi. I suggest ordering one to share!

Cafe Paulin, Sarmiento 635. 10 min walk. A sandwich bar with ‘flying’ sandwiches. The food is fine, but go more for the experience.