Into La Boca

Just to the south of San Telmo where we are staying in Buenos Aires lies La Boca, one of the traditionally poorer areas of the city. Unlike San Telmo however, Boca is in no immediate danger of gentrification and indeed tourists are warned not to wander away from the safe area around El Caminito, the quaint street of coloured houses in what used to be a fishing village where the small river Riuchelos flows into the giant estuary of the River Plate.

Here bus loads of tourists arrive to photograph El Caminito and to have their photo taken with locals dressed as tango dancers before being whisked back out of danger.

It is a bit of a theme park but worth the walk from San Telmo to see.  We came on monday evening for the other local attraction - to see the world famous local football team, Boca Juniors, play an Argentinian league match against the wonderfully named Gymnastic and Fencing Club from the nearby city of La Plata.

The opposition and the result (a draw) were however irrelevant.  The entertainment here was the home crowd who, literally, made a spectacle of themselves. For the whole 90 minutes they maintained an anstonishing level of noise, singing rather tunefully along to the drum beat and all the time jumping up and down and waving their arms in unison. There was ticker tape, blue and yellow flares and various antics that would have a UK health and safety inspector closing the place down.  As the game wore on the decibel level rose and they were not even silenced by the late equaliser their team conceded. A shame because if the fans had the team they deserved, they would be world champions.  A world away from the polite applause that greets a goal at Arsenal.

Having enjoyed the show, the next morning we walked back down to La Boca to see El Caminito and find a traditional Italian eating place (the community and football club were founded by poor Italian immigrants).

Bizarrely, after opening the door to what seemed a humble Italian restaurant in a back street near La Bombonera (the chocolate box) stadium, we found ourselves not in the company of tourists or impoverished locals, but tables of men in suits. Since most looked like current or former footballers and yesterday was the last day of the season, we concluded that the constant ringing of mobile phones was down to ongoing negotiations of contracts and transfers.

Despite pretty much everyone else being smart and us being dressed shambolically to avoid being mugged, we decided to tough it out and sat down for a rather enjoyable lunch featuring some of the best home made pasta that we have ever had. After ordering some reasonably expensive wine the waiter started to take us seriously and we crossed our fingers that this would not be the day that the bank decides to block the credit card after a series of transactions in South America.