Customer Guest Blog

Some trips start months in advance with spreadsheets, itineraries and sensible pacing.
Ours started the way all great ideas do: three lads talking nonsense on a Champions League away day.

There were three of us on this one — myself, Andrew Handslip (my brother-in-law), and our mate Derry Walton. For years, me and Andrew had been hopping around Europe pre-Covid, chasing football in places like Sevilla and Atlético Madrid. Those early adventures grew into a proper tradition — two Champions League trips a year, one in spring, one in autumn. The kind of little rituals lads cling to because life’s better with something to look forward to.

But every tradition eventually escalates.
And ours escalated all the way to Argentina.

It started as one of those “…imagine going to Buenos Aires one day?” conversations. But the more we talked about it, the more it changed from fantasy to plan. The kind of plan you book before common sense catches up.

So we did it.
Flights from Heathrow to Buenos Aires via Rio — a route that cruelly taunted us by landing in Brazil without letting us off the plane. (A crime in itself.)

Only after booking did the penny drop: we’d chosen an international break week.

All that way.
Zero football.

The panic set in, the way it only can when you’ve spent real money on a bad idea. We checked fixtures properly and immediately rebooked for late September. It cost more, but it saved the trip. A lesson in always double-checking the calendar — something we clearly didn’t do.

What we did know was Buenos Aires has 16 Premier League stadiums in and around the city. Sixteen. A footballing universe in one place. Our goal? See as many grounds and games as humanly possible in five days.

That turned into 6 matches.
6 stadium tours.
4 days of madness.
And one of the most intense football experiences of our lives.

Argentina doesn’t run fixtures like England — nothing’s confirmed until two weeks before. Tickets? Forget it unless you’re a club member. For normal tourists, it’s a mix of reseller sites, blind optimism, and a company called Homefans that basically babysits you through it. Pricey, but worth it. Some venues are in areas where having a guide isn't a luxury — it's self-preservation.

We didn’t go to Argentina to look at pretty buildings or sip lattes.
We went for football, steak, and chaos.
And the city gave us all three in their purest form.

 

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Day 1 — Touchdown, Finding Our Feet & The First Legendary Steak

After 17 hours of being folded into an economy seat via Rio, we touched down in Buenos Aires, grabbed a taxi and checked into our central apartment. The location was chosen for strategic football reasons — like command centre access to all 16 clubs within an hour.

Jet-lagged, buzzing, and slightly on edge, we wandered the city to get our bearings. Buenos Aires has that effect on you — vibrant, gritty, unpredictable — and until you’ve settled into its rhythm, you walk with one eye scanning the streets and the other imagining the next steak.

And what a steak.

We found Huacho, an Argentinian steakhouse cooking over open fire. The kind of place that ruins every steak you’ll ever eat again. With a bottle of Malbec to soften the jet lag, it was the perfect first chapter.

Early night. Big days ahead.

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Day 2 — Boca Juniors: The Bombonera Pilgrimage & First Matchday

Our first full day began with the hop-on/hop-off bus — the easiest (and most touristy) route to La Bombonera. As we approached Boca’s neighbourhood, the streets slowly transformed into a sea of blue and yellow. Doorways, lampposts, murals, even stray dogs seemed on theme.

Walking into La Bombonera — even from the restricted museum terrace — was one of those moments that hits you in the chest. You see this stadium your entire life on TV, on posters, in documentaries. Then suddenly you’re in it.

Like stepping onto a film set you’ve watched since childhood.

Inside the museum, we killed time with 100 years of shirts, trophies, and stories — including my favourite: how Boca’s colours came from a Swedish ship whose flag was the first to sail into port that day. Pure chaos decision-making. Completely iconic.

Later came our first game:

Game 1: Platense vs San Martín

• Away from central BA

• Half-full stadium

• Ultras band never stopping once

• 2–2 draw, with a 94th-minute Platense equaliser

• Atmosphere pounding even without beer (it’s banned, and for good reason)

We celebrated with the locals like we’d supported Platense all our lives. A chaotic, brilliant introduction.

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Day 3 — River Plate Tour, Picante Neighbourhoods & San Lorenzo Under the Lights

The rain arrived, which meant the open-top bus to River Plate wasn’t the smartest plan—but we did it anyway.

El Monumental

The biggest, most modern stadium in Argentina. Recently renovated. 85,000 capacity.
It felt like stepping into a European super-stadium, except for the old-school terrace ends.

River Plate’s average attendance?
Just shy of capacity.
The highest in world football.

After the tour, we raced back for an early kick-off:

Game 2: San Lorenzo vs Godoy Cruz

Our guide Deborah warned us:

“This neighbourhood is picante… stay close.”

She wasn’t wrong.
The streets outside were lively in a way that focused your senses.

Inside, 35,000 fans roared their team to a 2–0 win. A proper atmosphere — louder, sharper, more aggressive than the Platense game. Proper Argentine football.

That night, we did something deeply predictable.

Huacho. Again.

When you find greatness, you don’t wander. The staff recognised us, the Malbec flowed, and the football chat carried on late into the night.

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Day 4 — The Derby of Derbies & A Race Across the City

We woke with a mild Malbec fog, grabbed shirts and lunch in town, and then saw something surreal — Racing Club’s squad loading their bus outside a hotel a few doors down.

But that was small talk.
Today was the big one.

Game 3: Racing Club vs Independiente — The Avellaneda Derby

Second only to Boca vs River.
Possibly fiercer.
Their stadiums are closer than Forest and County.

We had no guide. No hand-holding.
Just our wits and our willingness to blend in.

Walking toward Racing’s ground, we hit a ring of steel — armed police, riot shields, barriers everywhere. Independiente fans are banned, and now we understood why.

Once inside, we grabbed beers (alcohol-free, naturally), took in the atmosphere, and wandered into our section…

…only to realise we’d accidentally bought ultras end tickets.

Every other guided game put us safely far from the ultras.
This one? We were in the belly of the beast.

What followed was indescribable:

• 50,000+ Racing fans

• Tifos dropping from nowhere

• Flags over our heads

• Blue and white smoke

• A drumline that didn’t stop for 90 minutes

• The ground literally vibrating

The game was a 0–0, but no one cared. The noise, the intensity, the pure devotion… unforgettable.

We survived it.
Loved it.
And realised we could handle basically any football cauldron on the planet now.

But the day wasn’t finished.

Game 4: River Plate vs Deportivo Riestra — Across the City in 60 Minutes

Taxi. Traffic. Stress.
Straight to El Monumental again, this time full to the brim.

River used facial recognition to enter — no tickets at all. More high tech than half the Premier League.

We’d unknowingly bought corporate seats, but after the derby chaos, a padded chair and a bit of air-con was a glorious relief.

River lost 2–1 but the stadium, roaring and packed, was worth every mile we’d run that day.

Afterwards, we decompressed with burgers outside the ground and stared into space like men who’d just lived three days in one.

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Day 5 — The Smallest Ground in the League & One Final Night Under the Lights

We grabbed lunch at Huracán’s neighbourhood sports centre — proper Buenos Aires life — then made the short walk to the match I'd been waiting for.

Game 5: Barracas Central vs Belgrano

Barracas Central play in a tiny ground still under redevelopment.
No floodlights.
Hence the 1pm Monday kick-off.

It seats around 3–4,000, and you feel every one of them. It’s intimate, raw, and full of pride. The barrio behind the stand reminds you quickly about the city’s contrasts — some areas you don’t wander into.

The match finished 1–1, and from there we were off to our final showdown.

Game 6: Vélez Sarsfield vs Atlético Tucumán

Estadio José Amalfitani — refurbished, impressive, and used for rugby too.

30,000 fans inside, a proper buzzing atmosphere, and actually the best football of the trip. Vélez won 3–1 and gave us the perfect final chapter.

We celebrated with beers and empanadas and soaked up our last night in the city.

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The Aftermath — Coming Back to Earth

The next morning we headed for the airport, exhausted and wired at the same time. The flight home via Rio felt painfully long with no more matches to chase.

Only later did it sink in:

Six stadiums.
Six matches.
Five days.
A football culture like nowhere else on Earth.

Argentina didn’t just live up to the hype — it blew past it.

We’d learned a lot:

• never do two matches in one day

• go for longer

• eat more than steak and empanadas

• don’t trust fixture lists

• and always leave time for Rio next time — Maracanã is calling

Buenos Aires gave us everything we wanted and more. And we’ve barely scratched the surface.

Sixteen stadiums in one city. Six done.
Ten to go.

We’ll be back — and when we are, that’ll be another story.

Maybe even another blog.