Week 118 to 120 - Buenos Aires Grand Finale with Overlander Friends!
- Suzie Prevett
- 5 days ago
- 6 min read
The journey began pretty much with the Gualeguaychú border, the meeting point of Uruguay and Argentina. TIPs checked, papers stamped, the kind of bureaucratic ritual that marks the start of a new chapter, but this time it was the final land border crossing of our two (and a bit) year South American adventure.
The town itself, nestled near the Gualeguaychú River, is famous for its Carnival, but in early December, it felt sleepy. We found our hostel, and the dog gave us a look that said, “You’re not my favourite guests,” and we laughed. Hunger led us to a humble burger van, literally the only thing open, but that greasy bite tasted good to our hungry tummies. We’d have to get used to the Argentinian meal times again (similar to Spanish…too late for us Brits, ha ha!).
The next morning brought warmth in the form of Javier and Sandra from Dakar Motos, over a riverside coffee. They were seasoned travellers, and our chat drifted to shipping bikes, which is what their business entailed. We’d received several recommendations from other travellers to use them to ship our bikes, so although maybe a little more pricey, we wanted things to go as smoothly as possible, so we opted to work with them.
Three nights later, we rolled into Buenos Aires. The ride was smooth, traffic fast, and the wide avenues felt like a grand welcome. Yet the city’s contrasts hit hard: the opulent Four Seasons hotel standing almost shoulder-to-shoulder with a slum area, a stark reminder of Argentina’s layered realities.
Puerto Limón Hostel became our base. We parked the bikes out back, drawing curious stares as we made our way through the hostel doors on the bikes, and lucked out with a big room we kept for the entire stay. Around the corner, an empanada shop became our go-to snack stop. Those flaky pockets of joy were a prelude to the culinary adventures ahead.
Sunday was San Telmo day. The market was a riot of antiques, street performers, and aromas that told stories of old Buenos Aires. San Telmo is the city’s bohemian heart, where tango was born in the late 19th century among immigrants and working-class neighborhoods.
We tried to find an Indian festival rumoured to be nearby, but the endless queues sent us instead to a cozy Indian restaurant...comfort food with a twist. We went there more than once, it was soooo good!
The following days blurred into explorations: the port area with its makeshift homes in buses, smoke curling from BBQ pits; the nature reserve offering a breath of green amid urban chaos. One evening, we met Jyl and Chris, some fellow travellers on Harleys, for drinks and steak in a lively square, tango dancers spinning under fairy lights. We stayed until the music faded and the waiters gently ushered us out, then wandered to another café-bar, savoring the city’s nocturnal rhythm, and sampling a lot of what the bar had to offer!
When Michnus and Elsebie arrived, it felt like a reunion of kindred spirits. Empanadas, laughter, and later, a British-Indian mash-up dinner that defied expectations, spicy, hearty, and unforgettable.
But beneath the joy, a shadow crept in: colds, stomach upsets, and the quiet anxiety of transition. The trip’s end loomed, and sleep became elusive for Suzie as the mind raced through lists of things to organise, and the inevitable reverse culture shock.
Still, we squeezed in more adventures: La Boca with its riot of color and tango heritage, Plaza de Mayo, the stage of Argentina’s political dramas, and Café Tortoni, where poets and artists once lingered (though the queue was daunting). These places weren’t just sights, they were stories etched into the city’s soul.
Our final week unfolded in an Airbnb kitchen after leaving Limon Hostel: cooking feasts, sipping Amarula (a South African liqueur gifted by Michnus and Elsebie), making bracelets, and sharing films. Bobotie, a fragrant South African dish, became the centerpiece of a dinner with Jyl and Chris. It was a melting pot of cultures, friendships, and flavors.
Then came the practicalities: bikes to the airport, paperwork with Javier and Sandra, as we watched the bikes get wrapped up in what looked like cling film on their pallets. Packing was bittersweet, and the farewell to Michnus and Elsebie left tears in its wake. A taxi whisked us off to the airport, and after a smooth flight, Kelvin’s brother Darren was there at 4 a.m., to take us 'home' to Kelvin's parents house. The scramble for £1 for a luggage trolley felt like our adventure’s final test!
So that was it, 27 months of South American Motorcycle adventure done...and what did most people ask?! (unless they were another traveller): "How was your holiday?" (with the expectation of a maximum 1-2 minute overview). Ha ha...roll on the Overland event in a few weeks!! Lots to do before then though!!! (See the coming home blog for prep and a few reflections).
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