I feel absolutely cream crackered by the time I get through customs at Jorge Newbury International and decide to make life easier for myself by taking a 'transfer express' to my hostel. This is a glorified taxi service organised by the airport for tired and clueless individuals who don't feel in any fit state to take two or three different buses to their final destination.
My driver is smartly dressed in what appears to be his own version of a uniform and drives me past the Art Deco style Costanera Norte pier, explaining what he can about the sights we pass in English and Spanish.
The slums adjacent to the railway track look rough, tough and must be a terribly difficult place to live. The rest of the Buenos Aires I see from my window is far more welcoming. I like to make quick, initial comparisons of new places while the initial sights and sounds are fresh. To me, Buenos Aires has something of Valencia and Belgrade about it. You have probably never heard the Belgrade comparison before for the Argentine capital, but the mix of the garish brand new and the crumbling Old World, together with the smartly dressed and decidedly middle-class city folk going about their business on the streets of Recoleta and Retiro, are more than a little reminiscent of the Serbian capital...with a Spanish twist, of course.
Once in the hostel all I feel like doing is sleeping and chilling in the bar with a cafe con leche or two. The real Argentine adventure will begin tomorrow when I'm not wandering around like a zombie...