Buenos Aires for The Romantics: a Friday-to-Monday weekend

Go in the last hour, when the light slants down the avenues of mausoleums and the cats take over. Find Evita's tomb, then wander off the main lane.

Borges and Gardel drank under these stained-glass ceilings. Order a submarino, a bar of chocolate melted into hot milk, and take a marble table at the back.

The pink-painted almacén on a corner Borges knew, now a bodegón of tortilla, milanesa and a short Malbec list. Candlelit, noisy and unhurried.

A cast-iron greenhouse from the 1889 Paris exposition and benches under old trees, with a few rescued cats. Quiet before the Saturday strollers arrive.

Mario Palanti's Dante-inspired tower, 22 floors for the cantos. Take the guided climb at sunset and finish at the lighthouse for the city lights.

Leandro Cristóbal's small, candle-dim room: pork belly, rabbit and a Malbec list that rewards asking. The splurge of the weekend; book a table by the kitchen.

A 1919 theatre turned bookshop. Take a coffee on the old stage and read beneath the painted ceiling while the velvet boxes hold the shy.

Reed paths to the brown river and black-necked swans in the lagoons. Walk it hand in hand as the light turns copper, and leave before the gates close.

A dinner-and-tango show in the 1930s theatre near Gardel's old neighbourhood. Choose tables near the stage and let the dancers do the talking.

Cobblestones, antique stalls and a couple dancing tango for coins. Quieter on a Monday, with the corner tables already set.

Free and rarely crowded: Rodin's bronzes, Goya and the great Argentine landscapes in galleries you can cross in an hour.

A corner bar since 1864 with the original wooden counter. Share a picada of cured meats and cheeses and a last vermouth on ice.