Buenos Aires

Stepping into El Querandi-San Telmo's beloved, slightly timeworn shrine to the seductive melancholy of tango-is like tumbling through the looking glass, landing squarely in 1920s Buenos Aires, minus the bootleggers (though no promises about shady characters lurking in corners). Housed in a building dating back nearly a century, El Querandi pulses with nostalgia, intoxicatingly bittersweet music, and dance moves that make your best Saturday night gyrations resemble an arthritic penguin. Nab a seat at the late dinner show-around 9:30 pm if you aim to blend with locals rather than jet-lagged tour groups-and plan to secure reservations a week or two ahead, lest you resort to tangoing with a streetlamp outside. Come hungry, as the steak is as velvety and enticing as the dancers themselves, paired best with a potent Malbec (budget around $80-100 per person if you plan on eating, drinking, and leaving a decent tip without scandalizing anyone). Bring a healthy appreciation for drama, skepticism toward subtlety, and perhaps a discreet tissue for shedding manly tears during particularly emotional ballads. Sure, tango at El Querandi gleefully checks all the tourist boxes, but trust me-this densely layered performance of love, loss, and sultry eye contact is worth doing, even if your dance skills remain tragically unsalvageable. At least afterward, you can proudly announce you were once swept off your feet in Argentina, even if it required paying admission.

Ascending Aconcagua isn't just another mountain climb-it's a test of sanity masquerading as an athletic endeavor. Looming at nearly 7,000 meters, South America's highest peak is perched smugly outside Mendoza, known better perhaps for its sumptuous Malbecs than its lung-crushing elevations. History whispers that the Incas considered Aconcagua sacred, likely shaking their heads at modern climbers puffing upward, wrapped like Michelin men, oxygen bottles in tow. If you're serious (or foolish) about tackling this rocky conquistador, plan your expedition months ahead, budget generously-assume at least a few thousand dollars-and pack every layer you own, plus sunscreen and dark chocolate (trust me on this). Early mornings are brutally cold but promise clearer skies; start your climb at dawn to escape the afternoon storms that hit harder than a bad hangover after too many Mendoza reds. Even if you don't conquer the summit-and not everyone does-the stories you bring back will be legendary: frostbitten selfies, existential conversations with your Sherpa, and bragging rights guaranteed to silence every mountain-topping bore back home.

It feels delightfully absurd, stepping off a Buenos Aires sidewalk straight into Chinatown-where red lanterns swing lazily over crowds arguing passionately in thick Argentine accents. Barrio Chino, tucked incongruously into Belgrano, is less a neighborhood and more a culinary curiosity cabinet built from decades-old immigration stories simmered with porteno flair. Come mid-morning with sturdy shoes and a hungry stomach, planning no more than a week ahead because spontaneity breeds a better street-food odyssey. Budget about $20 and expect to leave with a wonderland in your shopping bag: steaming buns stuffed with pork and mystery, jars of seasoning you'll never pronounce correctly, and perhaps that unnervingly vibrant snack that might either make your day or set it spectacularly aflame. Sure, Buenos Aires didn't invent the Asian market-but watching a vendor passionately explain in Spanglish-Mandarin how to best incorporate dulce de leche into fried dumplings is exactly the surreal fusion experience worth savoring, retelling, and shamelessly embellishing back home.

Strolling into Cafe Tortoni is like stepping directly into the caffeine-fueled daydreams of Borges himself, though admittedly, these days you're more likely to bump elbows with wide-eyed tourists chasing ambiance than brooding intellectuals plotting revolutions. Open since 1858 in the heart of Monserrat, this landmark cafe oozes history from its marble-topped tables, ornate stained glass ceilings, and perpetually cranky waiters who seem annoyed they're not serving tango legends anymore. To dodge the selfie-snapping hordes, slip in early morning on a weekday, when the air still feels thick with literary ghosts, and grab a cortado and a medialuna for around 1,500 Argentine pesos (roughly $4 USD, give or take another economic upheaval). Reservations aren't a thing here, but patience certainly is-show up later in the day and you'll linger dramatically in line, plotting existential monologues about life's meaningless waits to your Instagram followers. Pack cash, a notebook to sketch your faux-intellectual epiphanies, and a healthy appreciation for faded grandeur. Sure, it's shamelessly touristy, but sipping coffee at Tortoni makes you part of an ongoing story-a tale of artists, writers, revolutionaries, and now, slightly disgruntled tourists-proving once and for all that sometimes the cliche is worth living out, if only to smugly say, "I've been there."

Standing at Iguazu Falls feels like stumbling onto a lost Spielberg set-nature theatrically dialed up to eleven. This watery behemoth, straddling Argentina's Misiones and Brazil's Parana, boasts over 275 individual cascades, unleashing a symphonic roar that makes Niagara seem like a leaky kitchen faucet. Set your alarm obscenely early-arriving around sunrise rewards you with ethereal mist-laden views minus throngs of tourists jockeying for Instagram glory. Pack an extra change of clothes, bug spray worthy of Vietnam jungle warfare, and consider booking at least a month ahead if you want to snag that jungle lodge straight out of a Graham Greene novel, complete with nocturnal wildlife soundtrack. Budget-wise, prepare to shed around $30 for park entry and a bit more for the requisite empanadas and cold Quilmes after your hike. Is it touristy? Sure. But standing awed and thoroughly drenched on a rickety platform over "Devil's Throat"-the falls' gargantuan centerpiece-is exactly the sort of reckless bonding with nature your grandkids will appreciate hearing about while rolling their eyes.