Mi Matute

After 13 hours of travel, nuestra grupita arrived in Buenos Aires proper at 6:30pm. We checked into our hostel, Tango Backpackers, in Palermo--an up-and-coming neighborhood that kind of reminds me of a grimier Russian Hill.

The hostel desk guy gave us a quick tour of the place on the way to our separate rooms, and that is when we realized that Hostelworld.com reviews can't always be trusted. Highlights:

+ built by connecting two or three old houses together = character
- that means that doors don't shut properly and everything leaks
- showers had no curtains, so you would've had to shower next to a rando
- bathtub (stained, blood on the wall) also had no curtains, which led to a huge moldy puddle
- peeling paint, grimy everything
- stained towels and linens
- no soap in the kitchen dispenser "because it leaks, so we just don't re-fill it"
- cockroaches

So after we carefully lock up our stuff (as best as we can), the girls and I headed out to find some empanadas for dinner. We hit up a fancy one on the main drag which had cold empanadas and facturas (sweet pastries, sometimes filled with goodness), but then we found a hole-in-the-wall on Thames called Pizzeria Mi Matute. With crappy lighting and one single dingy table, we knew we had hit the empanada jackpot.


There were 12 kinds of empanadas, all with different folds and nubbins to differentiate between the flavors. After we ordered one each, the greasy cook picked up pre-folded pies and tossed them carelessly into the oven. They came out piping hot, but we all went for the first bite at the same time... and the counter guy died laughing when moans of joy/yelps of burned tongues filled the tiny front room. And then we went back and ordered a second round.


Back at the nasty nast hostel, we spent two hours looking for another place to stay. We visited another hostel in Palermo which proved that there were better places in the area. With every hostel booked, the girls and I decided to give up for the night.

I made the mistake of trying to take a shower in the least disgusting bathroom--the one with a tub, no curtain, and moldy puddle. It took forever and a half because I had to try not to touch anything, and I had to take off one item of clothing and carefully replace it in a plastic bag that I hung precariously between two cabinet doors. That's when I noticed the splotch of blood underneath a rusty/falling toiletries rack... and ran the hell out of the bathroom for good.