About 30 minutes and another cocktail later, it was followed by recognisable olive green army trucks. Her peaceful solitude was shattered when police sirens shrieked, streaking past at high speed in a column of metallic blue. A colourful place a few streets over had come highly recommended. All in all, she was having a thoroughly enjoyable afternoon and she was toying with the idea of venturing out in the evening to source some local cuisine. Occasionally, she glanced up when the movement of a customer leaving or arriving drew her attention. Beyond them, under the archways, Coco could see out onto the street. Mellow beats intermingled with the background noise of a café on its downtime, in that space between lunch hour rush and evening preparation.Ī handful of customers where doing much the same as her. Sat in a chair out on the patio in a pair of neutral coloured chino shorts, and a light crème camisole underneath an unbuttoned white light linen blouse, she was finally unwinding sipping on a cold brew Martini taking a break from soaking up the mid afternoon sun. A safe was provided in your room for exactly that reason.Ĭoco Adel had been here a week, migrating between propping up the bar and lounging beside the pool drinking in the view of nubile women in bikinis. Weapons were permitted but it was asked that they not to be carried on your person whilst on the premises for the duration of your stay. To commit this cardinal sin would lead to expulsion of the one way ticket to Hades variety Rosarita would see to it personally! and being rumoured to be the Blood Hound of Valencia you didn't want to imagine the horrific ways she might choose to dispatch an offender. Criminals were under strict instruction to leave their bullshit at the door. One look in the woman's eyes and you could see a 1000 yard stare only obtained by a life lived on a knifes edge, inhabiting that twilight on the banks of the River Styx ushering people into the afterlife.Īs the hotel was exactly that, a hotel and took in ordinary guests, no violence of any kind was permitted upon the premises. Throughout this interaction politeness was a must as Rosarita suffered no ill manners or coarse language. This key would come with a leather badge key ring similar to the other ordinary guests but the inside would be coated in orange instead of the signature turquoise. As a rule, Coco never usually did unless it was an emergency and she needed a new identity fast.Īfter that, you would be shown to your room and handed a key. A bespectacled woman with a long black French braid, wearing a traditional long black maids outfit and spotless white gloves would arrive to see to your check in and go over the details, if you had anything to declare and if you required any 'compliments' during your stay.
To prove that you were one of those guests, you first had be in the know to ask for the services of Rosarita Cisneros. Local LEOs were paid off handsomely by management to look the other way, within reason of course. To some people, it was a safe haven of sorts - hence the nickname - catering to certain needs and it aimed to provide exactly what its nickname suggested. It took guests from all over the globe but you could also mingle with the locals, dining alfresco at the all day café that was housed on the north side. 'El Santuario' was not quite the Ritz but it wasn't too shabby either.
If one preferred to rise a little later than the early morning meal, guests could go down and enjoy the relaxing private suntrap that was the courtyard with its trickling water features or maybe head to the bar with its art nouveau fixtures and cool cocktails.
The bedrooms were wide with tall airy ceilings and walls painted in Mali whitewash.
Its colonial edifice was dotted with wide balconies accessed by French bay doors allowing you to take in the bustling streets below whilst having your breakfast. The Liberty Hotel, sometimes referred to as 'El Santuario' by those who knew the correct words to say to the concierge, was a hidden gem in the streets of Buenos Aires.
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