From National Geographic Traveler, October, 2010
NOW AND THEN, in Buenos Aires, I have the urge to rub against a man I’ve never met. 
When that occurs, I usually go to La Boca, the barrio that throbs with afterglow of Italian immigrants who poured brilliantly colored paints over their drab tenements in the early 20th century. This afternoon, I find my guy near El Caminito, a pedestrian way where the polychromatic huies are even louder than my pink high heels.READ MORE