Our White House has its equivalent in Argentina: La Casa Rosada—the Pink House. The Pink House indeed. You don't go starting a war with Margaret Thatcher if your presidential mansion is called the Pink House.

The President of Argentina doesn't live there. Apparently the chief executive has some ten residences from which she can select on any given day, depending on her mood and, I guess, on who she's entertaining.

Some might consider ten presidential houses as a sign of an aristocratic elite enriching itself at the expense of the governed. Like in any other Latin American country. But this of course cannot be true, because Argentineans aren't Latins.

In front of Casa Rosada, we have a monument to Christopher Columbus. Veneration of the discoverer of the New World is less controversial in Argentina than elsewhere, given that Columbus began the chain of events that ultimately permitted all those Italians and Germans to migrate here.

Between Casa Rosada and Rio de la Plata lies Puerto Madero, the city's old dockyards. Displaced by modern shipping facilities located elsewhere, Puerto Madero fell into decay, until developers recognized an opportunity.

Puerto Madero has undergone urban renewal eerily similar to the renovation of San Francisco's SOMA. There, decaying factories have been transformed into the million dollar condominiums and office complexes that today house the center of the dot com universe. Here in Buenos Aires, old docks have been sandblasted, re-roofed and otherwise turned into prime retail and residential real estate.

The dockyards still retain the old cranes, repainted to look like modern sculpture. They appear to be in working condition, but I can't see any actual work for them to do. No matter. They're a visual delight.

A 21st-Century suspension bridge crosses one of the boat basins. Whoever designed this project has created an incredibly interesting space.

At street level, the old dock buildings house hundreds of retail businesses. Most are chains or franchises. I didn't see a Starbucks, but we all know they're there. It was the restaurant below that caught my eye.

Yes, brought direct to you from Mall of America, the pride of American culture.

The place is jammed. In a sophisticated, European city, everyone wants to eat at Hooters. Go figure.

One travel writer dismisses Puerto Madero as a yuppie wasteland. There's some truth to his observations, but these old dockyards are a pleasant place for strolling, for hanging out in a café. I spent several hours here, feeling sleepy and content, just like I do among San Francisco's über-yuppies inhabiting the renewed waterfront, down by the new Giant Stadium.