Unlike the jumbled antique shops I'm familiar with, San Telmo vendors for the most part specialize in a single type of object: Gaucho tack, wooden lasts, fans, copper vessels.

Colored stemware makes a great photo.

Incomplete sets of silverplate holloware are kept organized in bundles secured with rubber bands.

Two vendors specialize in seltzer bottles. They're still used for making drinks in Buenos Aires—you can buy new ones in kitchen shops.

I couldn't resist another image of stemmed glasses.

Odd pipes caught my eye. The third from the left doesn't look like it was used for tobacco. What, then?

Our traveling companion, Judy, bought some coffee spoons like those on the upper right. On the lower left are pastry forks, in case you need any.

The six implements at the lower right are mother-of-pearl caviar spoons. You'll need them to prevent your $6,000 a pound Beluga caviar from acquiring a metallic taste on the way from the server to your toast points.

This old Siemens telephone almost made the trip home with me. What a beautiful example of machine-age technology. But it weighs twenty pounds, and we were already over our checked baggage weight allowances.

Not all vendors sell antiques. The man on the left sells reproduction signs; the one on the right sketches city scenes.

The yellow shoes and the pink socks give them away: these people are artists.

Antique vendors are often colorful. The woman on the left is wearing hundreds of badges. She's sort of an icon.

The guy on the right is typical: disinterested, smoking. Maybe he'll give you some attention, maybe not.

This woman sells books and miscellanea. Check out her hookah.

Entertainers work the periphery. This classic-looking Porteño will dance the tango with you for a few bucks.

Shoppers come in all types. There is the geek contingent—my tribe.

Even I wouldn't be able to wear that... what... safari hat?

Many stylish young people wander around aimlessly, killing time on a Sunday morning.

The Porteño behind and to the left of the guy in shorts is reacting to the rare sight of a black man. BsAs is a white bread city.

Then there are the unusual: the tattooed man, the guy with the Soviet Union tee shirt.

Guys making statements.

The locals are the best. San Telmo is a semi-Bohemian neighborhood. This guy stood in that one spot the whole time we were there, sucking dreamily on his mate, thermos at the ready for refreshing the brew.

Does that combination of shirt and shorts worK? I kind of like it. I like his handwoven iPod bag, his oversize sunglasses. This man is cooler than I could ever be.

By noon, you couldn't walk through the aisles. People were lined up two and three deep at the booths. I don't know how any business got done.

I saw a lot of antiques, but I didn't ask questions of the vendors. Just took their pictures. I have no idea what I'm going to tell Clint. Maybe the photos will be all he needs. Probably not.

It's his own fault for sending an engineer to do a shopper's job.