The vibrant and flamboyant Buenos Aires flickers its magical flame under the moonlight to the rhythmic tap-tap of the tango dancers flinging themselves across the plaza. Refreshing wine compliments the tender steaks, whilst laughter and soft music gently saunters through the air intermingling with one another. The duality, however, is stark; vibrant overtones layered atop hardship, but in spite of that rough-edged foundation, there is a city of pride and of purpose.
The hustle and bustle is palpable as you walk the streets. The Casa Rosada gleams brightly in the moonshine as tourists and locals alike stroll past, hoping to catch a mere faint sensation of the powerful words projected from the balcony of Eva Peron, all those decades ago. Children play football in the streets, oblivious to their surroundings as they shimmy and weave between those that pass by, hoping to emulate the footballing icons that every Argentine adores, and far off in the distance, ferries gracefully float across the waters moving between the port cities of Argentina and Uruguay.
There is a coarseness to this city. It’s impossible to overlook it, but ingrained in each and every person is a vivacity and determination that could never be replicated. It is the people of Buenos Aires that ultimately give life to its romantic immortalisation. There will never be another place quite like it.