The night life in Buenos Aires is of legend. Some cities like to think that their night life is “legendary” but in reality it’s maybe above average at best. Buenos Aires has a party every night of the week. If you’re bored in this city, you’re doing something wrong. Leave.
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Me: What’s going on tonight?
Miguel: We’re at Novecento. It’s the polo after party. Come on by.
That’s how the night began. I had been out all day searching remote parks and far off barrios for the best graffiti and street art in Buenos Aires. It had been a long day, but the night was young. Lets party.
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I show up at the door around 10:30pm. The man at the gate tells me that it’s a closed party. I text Miguel, and tell him that I’m at the gate. A minute later I’m through. I met Miguel through a mutual friend. He’s a fellow trader, has a brilliant mind, and is extremely gracious with inviting me to all of the great parties that he attends. Every time that he’s texted me about a night out, I’ve gone. He knows where to party, and with whom.
Tonight he leads me to his table in the corner. “Brice, meet my friends. Estefania, Paula, Laura, this is Brice. He’s from Canada.” After introducing me to his three beautiful friends, he takes his leave to mingle with the rest of the people at the party. Everyone there wants to talk with him.
I’m left to chat with his three beautiful Porteña friends. Let the night begin.
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“I hate her, but damn is she giving me a lot of business,” says brash Argentine banker Franco.
“I love Cristina,” I respond jokingly in reference to Argentina’s very polarizing president. Considering the crowd I’m in, it is unlikely that there is a single Cristina supporter.
Franco is one of Miguel’s friends. He’s a banker in Montevideo, Uruguay, and business is going well. Whenever there is crisis, someone is benefiting. With the current financial restrictions in Argentina, Franco is doing very well. We continue to chat about the benefits for his business of a socialist government in Argentina. Argentina politics may be many things, boring is not one of them.
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Fifteen minutes later we’re leaving the city of Buenos Aires for a house party. I say house party, but I had never seen a house party like this. My idea of a “house party” is a bunch of my drunk friends, loud music out of a crappy stereo, and a BYOB policy. That, this is not. There is a DJ spinning the tunes for the night from a stage, a bartender serving whatever your heart desires, servers bringing around hors d’oeuvres, and a massive sparkling clean pool in the center of it all. The mini-mall sized house framed the whole scene.
Shortly after arriving we are greeted by the party’s host; a stunningly gorgeous 30-something year old woman. With a kiss on the cheek, a quick exchange of names, and a warm “bienvenidos” we are welcomed to the party. Franco and I walk around, mixing and mingling with the crowd of beautiful people.
Still in awe at exactly where we are, I was just doing my best to look like I fit in, and to not fall asleep. Parties in Buenos Aires don’t end until the sun comes up, and this one is no exception. Thankfully, the intoxicating mix of beautiful women, and beverages is more than enough to hold my attention until the sun makes its appearance.
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At the end of the night Franco drives me the 30 kms back to my apartment in Buenos Aires. The sun is rising, which is the way any good night out in Buenos Aires should end. We chat on the drive back to the city about the elegance of it all. Our party’s host had most likely spent over $1000 on having a few friends over for a good time after a polo match. This is obviously not the reality that the majority of Argentines experience, nor Westerners for that matter, but it’s a fun world to be invited into.
I’ll have to wait until next polo season for another polo party. At six in the morning, however, I’m just ready to fall asleep and let my dreams take me there.