San Telmo isn’t missing much. An array of antique furniture shops, local parrillas, and of course tourists visiting the infamous weekend feria, fill the cobbled streets all the way to Plaza de Mayo. But in a city that bursts at the seams with evening entertainment, it seems that San Telmo is, well, lacking in this department. Until now that is.

The tour of the Federal Police Museum in Buenos Aires starts as you’d pretty much expect. We are led in to the first room, where various police uniforms are displayed, dating back from as far as 1790. Then we browse at the vast collection of police badges on display, not only from Argentina, but from all around the world. This is all very impressive, but there has to be something more interesting…

Saturday night is Funky 45 night at La Divina Comedia, and it does exactly what it says on the tin (other than the 45 bit – I’m yet to work out what that part’s all about – do feel free to share if you have an epiphany!). So if funk is your thang, then this club is for you. It’s one of the few club nights in BA dedicated to funk and soul music, so there’s always guaranteed to be a big crowd in: Great in terms of atmosphere, not so great when trying to get to the jump…

Buenos Aires – a city so good they founded it twice. Both times, it was founded by Spanish explorers, most recently in 1580, and first time around in 1536 – but the remains were never discovered of the first settlement. That is, not until 1985 when an Argentine private company purchased a 19th century property in San Telmo and accidentally uncovered what is now considered to be the most important archaeological site of the city.

A locked garage door is covered with a painting of a happy and multicoloured face, and has a piece of folded paper attached to the door handle. The hand written message addressed to the owner reads ‘it is a gift of art, I hope you like it’.

We all know that Buenos Aires is a cultural metropolis. We know that it is full of super interesting and creative people that we would love to meet so that they can tell us about their projects, their lives and their particular view of the world. We know that someone exists, ‘lost’ in Buenos Aires, who can open our minds, who can change us, or even, we surprise ourselves upon realising a complete stranger thinks like we do.

It’s a cold winter evening in Buenos Aires. A 20-year-old girl from the US is getting dressed in a hostel room, LovedStoned by Justin Timberlake is playing on her iPod. A 21-year-old Argentine boy is yelling on the phone in the kitchen of his mother’s house, over the sound of the Redondos blaring from the CD player.

Above the doorway to El Galpón de Catalinas, on a scruffy corner of La Boca, spills a riotous depiction of a theatre audience in rapture. Below the scene, a crowd rugged up against the cold mingles over cake and choripán amid swirling parrilla smoke. It’s 11pm on a Saturday and the file along the freezing street shares an inability to resist a basic urge: to know the naughty pleasures of pornographic puppetry.

One might speak of that recurring dream where you suddenly find yourself naked in front of an arsenal of giggling in the most public of places. I’ve never had it, but I think last weekend introduced the concept to me, and on national television.

In various neighbourhoods of Greater Buenos Aires, before the sun has risen and whilst families quietly sleep into the birdsong of a new dawn in sweet suburbia, the day has already begun for Biomás collection workers. Today, like any other day, they will collect in bundles of plastic containers the morning’s harvest: hundreds of litres of tepid urine.