The Paris of South America

The last hour of the day, sitting at a café table on Calle Chile, the street that separates the barrios of San Telmo and Monserrat. San Telmo is the quirky, fancy, used-to-be-bohemian neighborhood where I’m staying; Monserrat the city center, which gradually shades from residential to urban and federal. Calle Chile is a relatively quiet street, more foot traffic than cars. From looking at it, you wouldn’t know that it separates anything other than one side of the street from the other. The establishment under whose drooping green awning I am sitting is called Café La Poesía, and as I was wandering around looking for a place to have dinner I came across it several times. The first time I walked by I was initially intrigued, then skeptical. The second time I went in, looked at the menu and thought it had promise. I was disappointed to see that the inside walls weren’t covered with books — in fact none were visible —how could a Poetry Cafe not have books? But it did have that old-fashioned literary feel, and wouldn’t be out of place in North Beach, San Francisco. The third time by I was just hungry and tired of walking. <a href="https://medium.com/the-great-southern-migration/the-paris-of-south-america-620a1bd475c4">Read More</a>