Estoy Aqui...Que Bueno!

  Buenos Aires, Argentina
Friday, December 5, 2008

You'd think I might have culture shock after months in Australia but no, it's like slipping into a pair of comfy shoes, returning to South America, and it feels perfectly normal to be wandering the streets of the city, asking for directions en Espanol when I get lost, drinking cafe pequeno at streetside tables, and sipping cerveza to the sound of Latin rythms. It's good to be back!

The flight from Aus was good and Qantas scored full marks for serving me spuds in both meals, as well as offering Squires Golden Ale instead of the usual mass-produced beer... and there was me thinking I was guzzling my final bottle at your house, John! There were also 'movies on demand', a choice of about 40, which could be selected and played at any time... when did in-flight entertainment get this good? Best of all were the views though... after a good snooze I awoke to find, spread below me, the Chilean fjords and the snow-dusted, sharp-ridged peaks of Patagonia, with glittering icy lakes nestling between them. And then, as part of thre show, a volcano started erupting. The captain's commentary was unusually enthusiastic and the cabin crew, not usually concerned about the panorama outside, were all squeezing around windows and exclaiming to each other... I later found out this Qantas route began a week ago so none of the crew had flown this way before, and they were as excited by the scenery as we passengers.

B.A.'s oldest cafe - very classy!

I have spent the past few days exploring Buenos Aires, on foot and by bus, feeling delighted every time I asked a question or ordered food and was understood. My mouth is delighted to be rolling the 'r' s again and I realise I'm talking Spanish to myself as I walk down the streets, just because it feels so good! My ears have yet to catch up with my mouth, though, and while I'm babbling away, I'm not necessarily able to understand all the responses...

La Casa Rosada

Mauoleums in Recoleta

My city tour began with the obvious places: the Plaza de Maya with its Casa Rosada, and the cemetery of the rich and influential at Recoleta, which is like a small town of mausoleums, in various degrees of grandeur or neglect, from gleaming, polished marble high-rises to rundown cottages sporting cobwebs and weeds. The attendant, handing out maps and recording visitors, became very animated at the mention of Ireland and told me excitedly that Guillermo Brown is entombed there... who? It turns out that a certain William Brown, of Foxford, County Mayo, ended his days as Almirante Guillermo Brown, First Admiral and 'father' of the Argentinian navy, and was laid to rest with great pomp and ceremony here in Recoleta. Bertie was over here laying a wreath for him a couple of years ago; there's a statue of him in Dublin; 1200 streets are named after him; and he's considered an Argentinian national hero... amazing what you learn when you travel!

Mausoleum inscription with weeds

The cemetery was very atmospheric and a great place to wander, imagining the lives of those whose names and dates are inscribed on the memorial plaques. It was almost deserted until I rounded a corner and, seeing a crowd, figured that this must be the Duarte family tomb, in which Eva Peron was laid to rest. I waited as the large group moved slowly forward, unable to avoid listening to the loud conversation of some vacuous American students:
A: "Hey man, why's everyone going that way?"
B: "That's where Eva Peron is buried"
A: "Who the f***s Eva Peron"
B: "I'm not sure but she's real famous..."
C: "I think she was, like, the spiritual leader of Argentina..." (said with irritating rising intonation!)
A (pause) : "Oh... like the 'Dalee' Lama but in Spanish, not Indian? Cool!"
God knows what these kids were studying but I'm not sure they should have got past kindergarten.

Street in San Telmo

The next afternoon saw me meandering around San Telmo, all cobbled streets, antique shops, cafes and bars with floor to ceiling shutters, bright pot plants on wrought iron balconies and charming period lanterns. Sitting in the shade of the broad-spreading trees in the plaza, I drank a cold 'Quilmes' beer and watched the buskers - not musicians but young portenos showcasing their national dance, the Tango, born here in the city. And what a dance! As I watched the drama unfold, the combination of melancholy and raw passion that create the depth of feeling in the moves, I pondered the different styles of scoring in different parts of the world:

Tngo dancers in the square

this tango involved a long drawn out seduction with the feet, lots of "will she, won't she?" as she consented then retreated, such intense eye expression, and after so much teasing back and fore, the couple finally moved together for the rest of the dance... for all her haughty attitude, he had succeeded; back home it's a few pints, a fling around a crowded dance floor, and see if your luck's in. What a wonderful way to spend a sunny afternoon! I wish I could call into Mr. Benn's changing room and emerge as a tango dancer for a day, with natural ability built into the costume... (imagine these ankles in fishnets and tango heels... such a shame I can't dance!!!!!)

House in La Boca

The other well-preserved, historic area I was keen to visit was La Boca, the city's original port, where cheap corrugated metal houses were brightly painted, using leftover paint from the docks. Photogenic it most certainly is, but I was disappointed to find the inevitable, that it has turned from a few streets of natural charm, to a tourist trap of tacky souvenir shops, half-hearted tango performances outside every bar, and touts hassling for business. I took a few pictures of the buildings and left to sit on a bench on the waterfront, wishing I had been here 20 years ago. And that's where I got chatting, and voicing my disillusionment, to Gabriel, a film maker, who splits his year between work in LA and BA, and lives in La Boca. There was so much history there, he told me, and so much life in the streets surrounding the tourist zone... and so we spent the

Gabrel's local cafe

afternoon sitting drinking coffee at one of regular cafes and I learned all the things that don't make the guidebooks about the events and characters that have shaped this area. I left so taken with La Boca that I returned the following morning (walking down Avenida Almirante Brown... yes, that's Willie from Foxford again) to meet Gabriel for breakfast in another old cafe, followed by another history lesson and mini-tour... it's so good to get the local perspective!  And tomorrow another local perspective will be shared, when I go to stay with Servas hosts Pablo and Omjai, half an hour outside the city, and experience Argentinian hopitality in their home.