Buenos Aires, Argentina
Recoleta Cemetery is a city of the dead. But if it’s any consolation for the dead here, at least they will never ever be lonely or be forgotten. The good sum of money that they had paid to secure their resting spots in this particular cemetery also comes with complimentary daily visits of hundreds of trigger happy tourists.
The most famous tomb, although interestingly enough, not at all the fanciest, is that of Evita’s. If you folks don’t know much about this lady save for the fact that Madonna had played a role as her and had belted her lungs out singing “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina” on a balcony, here’s a Wiki entry link.
On certain days, there are free walking tours inside the cemetery. It is an excellent way to get to know the deads here. While it’s fun to simply wander around the alleyways of this cemetery and do an unapologetic voyeurism into the deceased’s mausoleums, nothing beats a good ol’ horror story in a cemetery.
This particular girl “died” on her birthday. She actually suffered a coma and was buried alive. Cemetery workers heard screams from the tomb a couple days after the burial. When they opened up the coffin, they found scratches on the girl’s face and the coffin lid. The family rebuilt a mausoleum for her.
From Recoleta Cemetery, I went off to San Telmo. The area is sort of like the Williamsburg of NYC. Supposedly on weekends, the main square here turned into a massive flea market.
Only yesterday I mentioned about how Argentinians like to go on strikes. Tonight I experienced it first hand. I was bound for Puerto Iguazu on a night bus, but upon arriving at the station, I was told by a lady that all buses stop running. With my limited Spanish, I couldn’t make out the reason behind it. Finally, I found a person who actually spoke English and told me that there’s a strike. Annoyed, I jumped on the local bus to head back to Pedro’s. On it, I met an American man, Jun, who told me he just arrived at the bus station after a 5 days 4 nights bus ride from Lima, Peru to Buenos Aires. Loco! And what’s more, he lost his back on the way. One of the bus he took left without him. For all the he had gone through, Jun was still in a really good spirit. He was the second person I met who lost his entire backpack and told me it’s a liberating and emancipating experience.
Day 222: Dead Cities, Red Seas and Lost Ghosts
Buenos Aires, Argentina
Recoleta Cemetery is a city of the dead. But if it’s any consolation for the dead here, at least they will never ever be lonely or be forgotten. The good sum of money that they had paid to secure their resting spots in this particular cemetery also comes with complimentary daily visits of hundreds of trigger happy tourists.
On certain days, there are free walking tours inside the cemetery. It is an excellent way to get to know the deads here. While it’s fun to simply wander around the alleyways of this cemetery and do an unapologetic voyeurism into the deceased’s mausoleums, nothing beats a good ol’ horror story in a cemetery.
This particular girl “died” on her birthday. She actually suffered a coma and was buried alive. Cemetery workers heard screams from the tomb a couple days after the burial. When they opened up the coffin, they found scratches on the girl’s face and the coffin lid. The family rebuilt a mausoleum for her.
From Recoleta Cemetery, I went off to San Telmo. The area is sort of like the Williamsburg of NYC. Supposedly on weekends, the main square here turned into a massive flea market.
Only yesterday I mentioned about how Argentinians like to go on strikes. Tonight I experienced it first hand. I was bound for Puerto Iguazu on a night bus, but upon arriving at the station, I was told by a lady that all buses stop running. With my limited Spanish, I couldn’t make out the reason behind it. Finally, I found a person who actually spoke English and told me that there’s a strike. Annoyed, I jumped on the local bus to head back to Pedro’s. On it, I met an American man, Jun, who told me he just arrived at the bus station after a 5 days 4 nights bus ride from Lima, Peru to Buenos Aires. Loco! And what’s more, he lost his back on the way. One of the bus he took left without him. For all the he had gone through, Jun was still in a really good spirit. He was the second person I met who lost his entire backpack and told me it’s a liberating and emancipating experience.