baiafa, argentina: where ruins meet my bad life choices

i woke up feeling like a toddler who missed their nap and then tried to sleep in a puddle. it’s not a good combination. but here we are, in baiafa, argentina, which is basically a town that forgot to exist. i checked the weather and it’s like 23.33 degrees, which is either a cozy hug or a mild insult from the sun. i don’t know. the feels_like is 23.39, which sounds like a bad decision by a thermometer. pressure is 1010, which i assume is the atmospheric equivalent of someone breathing really slow. humidity at 64% means the air is trying to blend in but failing. sea_level and grnd_level both 1010 and 1007, so maybe the ground is confused about its own altitude?

the place is quiet, which is both a blessing and a curse. you hear the wind whispering secrets about my existence, and the neighbors are either pretending not to notice or actively avoiding me. i heard that once someone told me the local market sells cheese that’s literally aged in a sock. i didn’t buy it, but i also didn’t lie. maybe it’s true. who knows?

i almost took a photo of a random bus stop, but then i remembered i don’t own a camera. i’m a vintage clothes picker, not a photographer. i wear things that are 20 years old and call it a day. today’s outfit included a hat that probably saw the cold war. it’s functional, i guess. practical. also, i found a button that said ‘1032997137’ on it. is that a serial number? a password? a cry for help? i don’t judge.

the weather is… there right now. hope you like that kind of thing. i mean, it’s not volcanic or anything, but it’s also not a tropical paradise. it’s just… there. like how my motivation is. sometimes it’s there, sometimes it’s not. today it’s there, which is good. i might have a story later. or maybe not.

if you get bored, la paloma is a short drive, but don’t let it fool you. it’s still just concrete and regret. i heard that the hostel there has a bathroom that doubles as a dance floor. i’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. probably both. i also heard that the café on Main Street serves coffee so strong it could wake a stone. i’m not sure if i trust that. i’m also not sure if i trust anything anymore.

someone told me that the ruins here are actually from a failed utopian project. i don’t know if that’s true, but it sounds like a good excuse to walk around in ruins. i did that. i walked around in ruins for three hours. it was fine. i didn’t find any ghosts, but i did find a squirrel that looked like it was judging my life choices. it was very judgy.

i tried to take a selfie at the ruins, but the light was bad and my hat kept falling off. i ended up with a photo of my hat in the dirt. it’s a masterpiece. i uploaded it to instagram with the caption ‘i’m not a tourist, i’m a failure with a hat.’ it got 12 likes. which is either a lot or a lot. depending on your perspective.

i also found a local board online that says the best way to experience baiafa is to ask a stranger for directions. i did that. i asked a guy who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. he told me to follow the smell of baked bread. i did. i walked for 10 minutes and found a bakery that sells bread so good it could make you cry. i bought one. it was amazing. i also bought a bottle of wine because why not. it’s 2 a.m. and i’m in a bakery with a bottle of wine. this is how i roll.

i included some photos because i’m a vintage clothes picker and i think photos are just clothes for memories. here’s one of the bakery:

another photo of my hat:

and one of the squirrel:

i didn’t find a map, but i did find a link to a tripadvisor page for baiafa. it says the town is 90% ruins and 10% people who don’t care. i’m here to confirm that. also, there’s a yelp review that says the wind is a person and it’s named bruno. i don’t know if that’s true, but i’m taking it as a metaphor. bruno is probably my inner critic.

if you’re thinking of coming, don’t. or do. i don’t care. just know that the weather is there, the neighbors are weird, and the reviews are probably lies. i heard that the local diner serves tacos that are 50% cheese. i didn’t eat them, but i’m not saying you shouldn’t. maybe bring a towel.

there’s also a link to a local blog that talks about the history of the ruins. it’s probably not accurate, but it’s free. i’m not lying. the url is http://example.com/baiafa-history. don’t click it. probably.

i left baiafa feeling like i missed something. or maybe i didn’t. it’s hard to tell. i have a long list of questions about the 3433359 and 1032997137, but i’m not waiting for answers. life is too short for that. next stop? who knows. maybe a place with better weather. or worse. who knows. i’ll find out.

p.s. if you’re reading this, thanks for not being a tourist. you’re just here because you heard about the hat. or maybe you’re here because you saw the squirrel. either way, welcome to my mess.

baiafa, argentina: where ruins meet my bad life choices

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About the author: Sebastian Blair

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