Don´t cry for me Argentina (tho´ technically now in La Paz)

So before I forget it all, end of Buenos Aires. I´ll admit it, I did sort of fall in love with BA, despite the rough start. Reassuringly european in style, some beautiful buildings, and that certain vibrancy people try to describe about places that´s difficult to understand unless you´ve been there. I definitely intend to go back before I´m too old to enjoy Milhouse Avenue, and use it as my starting point en route to the penguins in the south.
After about 2 days in BA, we´d got our days down pat. Hit breakfast if possible by 10.30, amble out of the hostel by midday. Pick a district, roam around til our legs hurt, then head back for siesssta time. All walking accompanied by extensive discussion of home celebridee gossip. At last! Someone to discuss Wagner/Cher with! We also try to explain to the Aussie girls the wondrousness that is the iconic Cheryl Cole. The girls remain confused. We tell them to watch *that* documentary. Grab some supper around 9ish, hit the bar around 11. Repeat. Ad nauseam (quite literally, for some...!)
The night post trip to the Boca district was arguably the Wolf Pack´s finest. Purchase of 17 peso illicit contraband vodka fuelled a lengthy preparation session. Hairdryer AND hairstraighteners, music blaring, almost the best part of the night. We head down to the bar and tuck into the extended happy hour drinks. Iguana Skin a firm favourite by now (by the way if I´m repeating myself I´m sorry, can´t remember what I´ve written before), closely followed by the Long Island Ice Tea if one only feels like spending 10 pesos on an entire night´s alcohol consumption. The bar obligingly plays the Flo Rida / club can´t handle us song. I obligingly flail around grinning at the ceiling and thinking of everyone at home. Not moronic looking in the slightest. I swear. We then head to a nearby club and dance until about 4. The heels finally are worth the packing. HA!
The following day the entire hostel is subdued, everyone hungover en masse it appears. We go to the botanical gardens (distressingly banned from lying in the grass. Stone benches just don´t aid hangover recovery the same way lying horizontally does) which are as beyootiful as expected, and then on to the Evita museum. Highlight of the day at this point the sandwich shop we discover just round the corner, selling thin white bread sandwiches (crusts cut off Daddy) with ham and tomato layered between them. Mmmmm.
Museum is an education. I had no idea how much Evita did for Argentina, and finally get why she´s an icon. From what I remember of the movie, her extensive works for the poor aren´t really enlarged upon much. Or maybe I was concentrating too hard on Antonio Banderas. The museum itself is a blissfully cool quiet building, scented with rose petals (deliberately?). There are numerous relics from Evita´s life. Favourites include the childhood pics of her and siblings dressed as clowns and looking unimpressed by the whole thing, her stunning, stunning dresses (we all fall in love with a high necked long sleeved black jersey one that falls into an enormous circular train) and the footage of the children in the orphanages she helped set up. The closing video and accompanying voiceover from her sister is dignified but incredibly moving. She describes the mutilated state of Evita´s body when returned to her family, saying finally that she believes were Evita alive, she´d simply say "Forgive them, for they know not what they do".
On then, to Palermo to hunt round the boutiques. Some frankly hideous outfits (man made fibres are popular round here) in large quantities, by the end of which we´re all flagging. We head back by the Metro to the Avenida de Mayo. We get out in a rainstorm and run all the way home.
Supper that night is steak - sadly we are thwarted in our attempts to reach La Cabrera and steak-nirvana and settle instead for a steak house round the corner. The food once again is delicious, but the ambience somewhat heavy and subdued, the restaurant empty. We try not to notice the buzz around La Cabrera when we walk back past.
So, onto the last day in BA. Mostly spent chilling with girls, looking for Christmas presents for Clara/Eimear, and, um, eating empanadas. But of course. Waving a fond farewell to the girlies I then head up to my room to siesta, before meeting the Laconic Frenchman in the evening for drinks. Dancing at Milhouse Avenue ensues, a fitting end to my stay in BA.

So - La Paz. Well, other than the painful bus journey here I haven´t written much down yet. Will do that now in the diary and then relay. Tonight, on to Potosi and then Uyuni and the salt flats, hopefully a highlight of my trip.