Sunday, downtown serenity, biking
Trip Start
Jan 28, 2008
1
11
28
Trip End
Feb 08, 2008
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Buenos Aires,
Argentina
Sunday, February 3, 2008
We also read that shops are closed on Sundays. That may be law, but in this land leaping over the 19th century and attempting a consort with the 20th and 21st together, it is ignored in a manner one would expect of a very slow rush to anything... Such intimacy in intent also leaves little leeway for laboring over legalities. Thus, although the streets are abandoned by traffic in comparison to the days our Lord worked, the shops restaurants and tourist haunts are as alive as if they are the proverbial hills with The Sound of Music, the dynamics of dance, plus the buskers and hucksters attempting to lure a passerby into an establishment.
We had jumped on the subway today and... this wonderfully weird wife of our husband/wife relationship (or as some would say: weird relationship), met her her first ever subway orphans
Subway and mural
. These are the young guns sleeping on the floors at the bottom of the subway steps out of the sun and diesel fumes and in full view of passers-by. I swear she wanted us to call the police to get some assistance for them. I explained the acceptance in this culture and also the possible reasons for the two boys to be there; not necessarily because they were homeless, hurting or in need. We pass through much of flip side of BA as described above, after exiting our subway at Plaza del Mayo the periphery once more of Av. Florida. But today, we turn the other cheek and avoid the attractive confrontation, instead electing to back away towards the waterfront. And, what a find! Another jewel, another story untold - as once visited, it disappears like invisible ink off destination maps for tourists until a traveler, like us, finds the serendipity of walking away backwards from the allure of the Mayo Plaza. Quickly, our photos capture the multitude and varied scenes, people, costumes on humans, and those on buildings: architectural expression, impression, form and process. These are shown on our next blog: Dock area, conservation reserve & cycling.
History blends with contemporary flawlessly. Modern turns the ugly into shabby-chic and that wonderful, often driving force of entrepreneurial spirit, provides stage props for the choreography and presentation. Blending with this vital and vigorous new development: THE DOCKS is an ecological reserve accessible by bike or foot
The start of a long bike ride
. Beach areas break out first like periods ending a sentence, then like hyphens inviting us forward, and finally they become more linear, accessible and usable the deeper one travels into the reserve - and naturally the farther one has to hike or bike!We do not complete the full circle; the day is long, the ride demanding, the sun imploring us to drink and seek shade, rest and stay covered up. All cloud cover was removed long before the birth of this particular day. We stop for lunch at TGIF's (nothing like the one in North America). We have a huge Argentina burger with tropical drink and...well, see the photo to see the costume and themes of the joint! On the wall is model of a Funicular, a small tram car going up the side of somewhere. Little did we know that we would be encased in one and in a town relying on them for a mode of transport. To come up the coast of Chile. Also on the wall underneath is a scooter and I mention to Ingrid that is identical to the one I had as a kid. Somebody stole it actually, so you can guess where my mind is going at this moment - why ship it all the way down to BA, surely my piggy-bank insurance fund would have given them more for it than they got here!? Back to the docks...
Or I should say, leaving the docks. Each day does have to close and accustomed to short January days of Ottawa it is mesmerizing to see heat waves in auras circumnavigating all the edifices of this metropolis reduced to a village at 7:00pm by the constraints of night life commencing
A stop at the first beach
. The streets of each neighborhood calmly having gone about their business during the day, now become an individual focus on a singular hub of interests. That hub brings onto stage: food, family, music, dance, theater, outdoor orchestra pits of ordinary citizens creating their own nocturnal symphonies. As we were told: "Argentinians love their nights..."Here it is 7:00 pm, 1900 hrs,and this is the time we do start back home, only to observe a miniature 'Sydney' Opera House under construction. We meet a couple from Winnipeg - our age. They are also wondering what this is...?? They now walk with us for 30 minutes or so, swapping tales: attempting to speak Spanish, learning Tango - they take Tango lessons for tourists near our district and invite us to come (yeah, with my luck Ingrid will bring her leg up to the traditional 45 degree across my waist pose and on coming down will stick her 18" spiked heels into my already spiked knee!) Besides, can't they see that my crutches, leg braces and decidedly "please let me park in the handicapped zone" way of moving about? Anyway, Ingrid leaves them with all sorts of hope that we will meet them again by saying like a good Beverly Hills resident would: "We must get together at the Tango class..." (translated of course means: we can't wait to get out of here and have no intention of meeting you!) Except that in Hollywood/BH one is saying: "we must have you over..." (with no intention of course and this accepted by everyone just as "have a good day is given in Vancouver or New York.)
We now, still thinking whether we should walk all the way home, part of the way, take the subway, bus or taxi - run across the infamous Tango and other traditional Argentinian dancers and more of the mime/buskers always to be seen on Avenida Florida during tourist season (Jan 1st - Dec 31st)
Model Furnicular
. We think that all the money they collect from donations into the hat, goes to local road repairs... yeah, yeah. And then, finally exhaustion from hours of walking, biking, standing, talking, laughing observing, absorbing and contorting is felt to be tapping us on the shoulders (well, mine anyway). We flip a coin and before it lands decide to take the subway home. Oh, oh - we have just attempted to try a different stop location and can't find it. "let's walk around a bit - we are bound to find it" the intelligent one of us says.
The other replies:
"I am sure it is just around this corner and down a block.."
Followed by the first person's:
"OK let's try just a couple of more blocks.
We are now in a taxi heading for home.
Ah, home sweet 'why does the elevator have to be closed this one time making us up six flights of stairs today' somebody else's home, but ours for this 11 days... We are finding that we are sun burnt and need sleep. So here we are sleeping whilst Ingrid continues to read her German novel left in the apartment by previous visitors: Die Sekte by Greg Hurwitz. I will awake to turn on the t.v. for channel thumbing to see if I can hitch a ride on one of them no matter what the language and omygawd what do I find but: the 2008 Superbowl, the game I knew I would have no more chance of seeing than I would see my 59th birthday again. AND, 1/2 time entertainment from Tom Petty who I have not seen in concert or on t.v. for 150 eons of time. And so ends the Sabbath and our first week. What a week. What a contrast from our first impressions to our last. Buenos Aires is a place taking no thoughts for tomorrow. Carpe diem quam minimum credula postero - today is for living, don't trust any other day!
