North of the city centre, Palermo is a big old barrio but not quite as big as the one whose name it nicked. Palermo Chico is the exclusive part with a large park in it but more on that in a minute. To get there, you'll have to cross one of the city's notoriously wide avenues.

Avenida del Libertador is a mere tiddler at just the 10 lanes although one of those might be for parking. Avenida 9 de Julio in the centre has 12 lanes and yes, having taken a couple of taxis, they do need them all.

Buenos Aires, literally 'fair winds' but with all the beef they eat round here, that's unlikely. You will, however, need a fair tailwind for your crossing, the pedestrian countdown clock barely giving you enough time for a safe five... Consonant, vowel, another consonant please Carol, or Rachel depending on your age.

How Argentina haven't supplied a succession of Olympic 100 metres champions isn't clear. There's no need for any state-of-the-art training facilities, just have them bolting across here a dozen times a day.

There is an underpass but there was evidence of people living in it before it flooded. Even then, the graffitied skulls on the meshed gate will have you opting for the 50-yard dash.

There's some less-intimidating graffiti under the railway bridge at the intersection of Avs. Dorego and del Libertador.

They're fond of a spray around here and if you walk north a bit, somebody's only gone and commemorated Lemmy near a footbridge, not shown.

Just around the corner here, though, there's a lovely, smiley one with a little man in a tin hat having a sit down.

The significance of it all couldn't be fully figured but it seems to be about some islands or something?

No, that's not the River Plate, it's the soggy running track at the Hipódromo Argentino de Palermo, the racecourse, of course.

When it's not a race day it seems that you and a clutter of cats can wander freely around the Art Nouveau surroundings where you might even see one of these.

That looks like a Gulf Fritillary from here, either that or Google™ is playing up, again. Gulf Fritillary could well be the name of the filly that romped home in the dos-fifteen at 10-1.

Mine came in at half past four © Tommy Cooper, probably.

Remember that large park from earlier? Well, all of the previous bumbling leads you here, the Parque Tres de Febrero or Bosques de Palermo or Palermo Woods if you'd rather, the city's most spacious green area. Everything here, by the way, is named after either the date or the ringleader of some revolt or other.

North of the racecourse, the Lago de Regatas was doing a pretty good impression of a swamp back in the 1990s.

It's since had a dredge and now 10 species of fish, eels, otters, shrimps and turtles, none of them shown, all call the place home.

As do these fellas, the monk parakeet and this one looks like a young 'un. Just like their cousins in West London, the ring-necked, they're a bit squawky and the local residents here might be tempted to do just that.

The park's worthy of a mention because it spans a few of those wide avenues and covers nearly 1,000 acres or nearly 500 football pitches with room for throw-ins. That's a full day out if you take in the zoological, botanical and Japanese gardens and, when in season, one with a load of roses in it. Oh! Don't forget the planetarium.

The surrounding area's exclusivity means that 'professional' dog walkers are employed by the rich residents.

It's said 'professional', these mutts are not so much mollycoddled, more manacled, tethered to trees while their handlers sit smoking in the shade.

What's essentially a pack of reverted, wild wolves means there's no real reason to visit the zoo. Another good reason is that you can peek a giant rodent through the fence for free... 'Aww, wook at the widdle Capybawa.'

Probably the best reason not to visit the zoo, however is that it's now been shut, something about degrading?

This is down in Palermo Viejo now or old Palermo if you'd rather. Heading back for a nap to Palermo Hollywood, so called because it's home to some TV and radio studios, apparently.

To get here, you pass through Palermo Soho although the seediest thing seen was a flax-speckled muffin served by a beardy hipster.

This whole area is 'up and coming', you see, and by 'up and coming' it's meant your European VISA™ is no good in this cash-only economy.

Before your steak dinner, you'll need to rack your brains over that Santander™ cashpoint you passed earlier... 'Now, just exactly where was it again?'

Just down from the intersection of Avenida Juan Bautista Justo and Costa Rica it turns out. You're welcome.