Having been in Buenos Aires for nigh on three weeks now, I feel confident (or cocky) enough to begin making judgements about the city. Buenos Aires is the 10th (or 11th - depending who you ask) largest city in the world. Growing up I would often watch Hollywood movies where the American actors would get bored of New York City or of a nasty relationship and jet down to Buenos Aires for refuge. The old technicolor images of the pampas, flirty gauchos and sleek polo players intermingled with the wanton abandon of the international gliteratti that called Argentina their playground. My interest in seeing this paradise of pleasure waned until Madonna's ill-conceived turn as Eva Peron in Evita. This time, it was not the life of pleasure that attracted me, it was the lush, dark undercurrent of a passionate metropolis with imposing Belle Époque facades and an ambitious populace trying to hold on to a fading dream. Fast forward to 2009 and the Buenos Aires of my dreams: a city that surprises and disappoints, inspires and frightens.

Buenos Aires has always been referred to as the Paris of the South. Having been to Paris a few times, I feel that I can make a somewhat amateurish yet informed comparison. Many other cities are also referred to as the "Paris" of somewhere with the two biggest claimants being Montreal and Buenos Aires. Although Montreal has more of the cultural feel of Paris with the language and general attitude towards life of the people, I think that architecturally Buenos Aires wins hands down. A walk down the Avenida 9 de Mayo, is reminiscent of a stroll down the Rue St-Denis in Paris...a wide tree-lined avenue flanked by Belle Epoque manses with intricately detailed facades and romantic cast-iron balconies protruding from marble towers. I have only seen a bit of the city: the microcentro and San Telmo, but I am overwhelmed thus far by its architectural treasures. I ended my evening last night sitting in the Plaza de Mayo looking at the sun set over the Casa Rosada (the Argentine version of the White House) and thinking that if I, Eva Peron, Madonna and Cary Grant could sit down for coffee in today's Buenos Aires, we'd all find something we loved about a city that is not Parisian but truly Argentine.