Man, I’m still tasting the smoky paprika from that choripán I snagged near the Mercado de San Telmo. Seriously, I almost missed my flight home just to grab another one. Buenos Aires—the Paris of South America, they call it—but that’s only half the story. It’s got the fancy facades of Recoleta, sure, but the real heart? That’s beating fast in the back alleys of Villa Crespo, in the sweaty tango halls of Boedo, and definitely on those ridiculously packed bondis (buses). It’s a city that grabs you,…

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