ANZAC Day in Buenos Aires
Trip Start
Apr 13, 2008
1
7
17
Trip End
Jun 03, 2008
Hola,
Have just returned from a long and exhaustive day out with a couple of new friends at the Tigre Delta, (about thirty kilometres and a world away from the conjestion and noise of Buenos Aires and a popular weekend getaway http://www.easybuenosairescity.com/tigre1.htm) and noticed that I did not send out yesterday´s entry on ANZAC Day.
Please excuse my tardiness. I had a late night last night and am surprised I can write anything remotely coherent today. First I took part in a couple of tango dance classes back to back then was taken out to a late supper at an Italian restaurant in the heart of tango territory in San Telmo where the music was laid back Brazilian.
So with my bed beckoning and a busy day tomorrow Sunday (am packing for the next stage of my travels - to Mendoza and Salta in the north of Argentina) I am going to just send out the story on ANZAC Day and my apologies in advance for its lack of editing.
____________________
On Friday 25 April I took time out from being a tourist to go to an ANZAC Day service at the Australian Embassy in Buenos Aires. The commemorative service was jointly run by the Aujstralian and New Zealand Embassies. Invited guests included ambassadors and military attaches from South Africa, the USA, England, France and Argentina, some expats, the Buenos Aires Scottish Guards and a group of students from Oakhill College, Castle Hill, who have just completed a rugby union tour of Argentina and Chile. For a number of personal reasons ANZAC Day remains an important anniversary no matter where I am in the world, so I just rang up the Embassy a couple of days ago and had my name put on the list of invitees.
The Australian Embassy, together with Austrade and the Ambassador´s Residence, sits on a relatively large block in a more salubrious part of the city, much like the Eastern Suburbs of Sydney but without the hills or harbour view (but with the same overpriced trendy cafes, health clubs and gourmet delicatessens).
Buenos Aires´ famous dog walkers are everywhere to be seen here - both men and women striding purposely up and down the street with at least 10 dogs of all shapes and breeds with leads clipped totheir waistbelt or held in the hand. The streets here are tree lined which must offer a lot of temptations.
One experienced observer (an Australian travel writer) wrote to me suggesting that the best way to cross the road safely in this city was to follow the dogs. Drivers here will go out of their way to avoid hitting their beloved dogs but human pedestrians don´t get the same considerations! Oh, and forget drivers signalling their intent to merge, or turn a corner. I don´t think Argentine cars possess such things.
The ANZAC Day Service was brief and included the Last Post and Reveille, laying of wreaths, brief readings and speeches by the New Zealand Ambassador, Ms Lucy Duncan and the Australian Ambassador Mr Peter Hussin (who is about to complete his term of office here) and the singing of both the NZ and Australian anthems.
It was all familiar and very moving - and it was reassuring to see the ANZAC countries flags and hear our anthems being played, and drowning out just for a moment the honking horns and traffic of the busy streets nearby.
After the ceremony held at the Embassy itself, we walked (ambled in the warm April sun more like it) behind the national flags through an adjacent swimming pool area to a pleasant garden in the grounds of the Ambassador´s Residence. Waiters served us a mix of Argentine and Australian standard refreshments - there were dainty biscuits and lamingtons, small buns of freshly grilled slices of beef, and cream cakes with a choice of tea, coffee, fresh juice, water, soft drink and wines. The fact that it was still only 11.30am in the morning did not deter anyone from accepting a glass or two of the red and white wine, which I presume was Argentine.
I chatted with some of the expats, a couple were teachers here at local private schools, others were conducting or starting up businesses in the country. One of the guests wore his grandfather´s WW1 medals - although Argentine himself, he was proud of his Scottish and Australian heritage and in fact was a founding member of the local Scots Guards (who were resplendent in their kilts today). We talked about one of Argentine´s national heroes from the Wars of Independence and the founder of the Argentine Navy - the Irish born William (Guillermo) Brown. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Brown_(admiral)
I came across Brown´s former home Casa Amarilla, on my walk around the San Telmo and La Boca districts last Sunday. The house, a grand two storey affair on a hill, is now a museum and the headquarters of Naval History.
There is a sad story associated with Brown´s life. His daughter fell in love with one of his officers and when the officer was killed in battle, she flung herself in the river and drowned.
Later, taking refuge from the sun, I ventured inside the ground floor of the Ambassador´s house which had been opened up for guests (large light filled rooms, tastefully appointed- nice digs - what third world hell holes do you have to work in before you score a diplomatic posting like this?)
While admiring the decor and trying not to spill my drink over the probably exceedingly expensive Persian rug, I had the pleasure of meeting another fascinating local: Maria.
Within the first minute I discovered that Maria had been invited as a guest of the Ambassador´s wife through their mutual passion for Latin art and literature, that she (Maria) was now a professional psychologist (this city is teeming with psychiatrists, psycho analysts and psychologists) but also a former teacher and journalist and is is married to a columnist on the Buenos Aires Herald.
And in the next minute she had given me her email address, the location for the best tango show in town and a brochure for a new art exhibition.
Maria was particularly interested in my travel plans and when I mentioned the magic word, Cusco, she exclaimed loudly:- "You must read Pablo Neruda´s famous poem Las Alturas de Machu Pichu! " And the surprisingly thing is that she managed to have a copy of some of the most oft quote cantos from this famous poem - the longest in the Spanish language- in her handbag.
Here is a sample:
Canto XII from The Heights of Macchu Picchu
Arise to birth with me, my brother.
Give me your hand out of the depths
sown by your sorrows.
You will not return from these stone fastnesses.
You will not emerge from subterranean time.
Your rasping voice will not come back,
nor your pierced eyes rise from their sockets.
Look at me from the depths of the earth,
tiller of fields, weaver, reticent shepherd,
groom of totemic guanacos,
mason high on your treacherous scaffolding,
iceman of Andean tears,
jeweler with crushed fingers,
farmer anxious among his seedlings,
potter wasted among his clays--
bring to the cup of this new life
your ancient buried sorrows.
Show me your blood and your furrow;
say to me: here I was scourged
because a gem was dull or because the earth
failed to give up in time its tithe of corn or stone.
Point out to me the rock on which you stumbled,
the wood they used to crucify your body.
Strike the old flints
to kindle ancient lamps, light up the whips
glued to your wounds throughout the centuries
and light the axes gleaming with your blood.
I come to speak for your dead mouths.
Throughout the earth
let dead lips congregate,
out of the depths spin this long night to me
as if I rode at anchor here with you.
And tell me everything, tell chain by chain,
and link by link, and step by step;
sharpen the knives you kept hidden away,
thrust them into my breast, into my hands,
like a torrent of sunbursts,
an Amazon of buried jaguars,
and leave me cry: hours, days and years,
blind ages, stellar centuries.
And give me silence, give me water, hope.
Give me the struggle, the iron, the volcanoes.
Let bodies cling like magnets to my body.
Come quickly to my veins and to my mouth.
Speak through my speech, and through my blood.
Here is the poet himself reading the same thing in Spanish:
http://www.poesia-inter.net/reci0006.htm
I must buy a copy of the full poem, in English and Spanish, for when I find myself at Macchu Piccu, hopefully in about three weeks time.
hasta luego
Debra
Have just returned from a long and exhaustive day out with a couple of new friends at the Tigre Delta, (about thirty kilometres and a world away from the conjestion and noise of Buenos Aires and a popular weekend getaway http://www.easybuenosairescity.com/tigre1.htm) and noticed that I did not send out yesterday´s entry on ANZAC Day.
Please excuse my tardiness. I had a late night last night and am surprised I can write anything remotely coherent today. First I took part in a couple of tango dance classes back to back then was taken out to a late supper at an Italian restaurant in the heart of tango territory in San Telmo where the music was laid back Brazilian.
So with my bed beckoning and a busy day tomorrow Sunday (am packing for the next stage of my travels - to Mendoza and Salta in the north of Argentina) I am going to just send out the story on ANZAC Day and my apologies in advance for its lack of editing.
____________________
On Friday 25 April I took time out from being a tourist to go to an ANZAC Day service at the Australian Embassy in Buenos Aires. The commemorative service was jointly run by the Aujstralian and New Zealand Embassies. Invited guests included ambassadors and military attaches from South Africa, the USA, England, France and Argentina, some expats, the Buenos Aires Scottish Guards and a group of students from Oakhill College, Castle Hill, who have just completed a rugby union tour of Argentina and Chile. For a number of personal reasons ANZAC Day remains an important anniversary no matter where I am in the world, so I just rang up the Embassy a couple of days ago and had my name put on the list of invitees.
The Australian Embassy, together with Austrade and the Ambassador´s Residence, sits on a relatively large block in a more salubrious part of the city, much like the Eastern Suburbs of Sydney but without the hills or harbour view (but with the same overpriced trendy cafes, health clubs and gourmet delicatessens).
Buenos Aires´ famous dog walkers are everywhere to be seen here - both men and women striding purposely up and down the street with at least 10 dogs of all shapes and breeds with leads clipped totheir waistbelt or held in the hand. The streets here are tree lined which must offer a lot of temptations.
One experienced observer (an Australian travel writer) wrote to me suggesting that the best way to cross the road safely in this city was to follow the dogs. Drivers here will go out of their way to avoid hitting their beloved dogs but human pedestrians don´t get the same considerations! Oh, and forget drivers signalling their intent to merge, or turn a corner. I don´t think Argentine cars possess such things.
The ANZAC Day Service was brief and included the Last Post and Reveille, laying of wreaths, brief readings and speeches by the New Zealand Ambassador, Ms Lucy Duncan and the Australian Ambassador Mr Peter Hussin (who is about to complete his term of office here) and the singing of both the NZ and Australian anthems.
It was all familiar and very moving - and it was reassuring to see the ANZAC countries flags and hear our anthems being played, and drowning out just for a moment the honking horns and traffic of the busy streets nearby.
After the ceremony held at the Embassy itself, we walked (ambled in the warm April sun more like it) behind the national flags through an adjacent swimming pool area to a pleasant garden in the grounds of the Ambassador´s Residence. Waiters served us a mix of Argentine and Australian standard refreshments - there were dainty biscuits and lamingtons, small buns of freshly grilled slices of beef, and cream cakes with a choice of tea, coffee, fresh juice, water, soft drink and wines. The fact that it was still only 11.30am in the morning did not deter anyone from accepting a glass or two of the red and white wine, which I presume was Argentine.
I chatted with some of the expats, a couple were teachers here at local private schools, others were conducting or starting up businesses in the country. One of the guests wore his grandfather´s WW1 medals - although Argentine himself, he was proud of his Scottish and Australian heritage and in fact was a founding member of the local Scots Guards (who were resplendent in their kilts today). We talked about one of Argentine´s national heroes from the Wars of Independence and the founder of the Argentine Navy - the Irish born William (Guillermo) Brown. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Brown_(admiral)
I came across Brown´s former home Casa Amarilla, on my walk around the San Telmo and La Boca districts last Sunday. The house, a grand two storey affair on a hill, is now a museum and the headquarters of Naval History.
There is a sad story associated with Brown´s life. His daughter fell in love with one of his officers and when the officer was killed in battle, she flung herself in the river and drowned.
Later, taking refuge from the sun, I ventured inside the ground floor of the Ambassador´s house which had been opened up for guests (large light filled rooms, tastefully appointed- nice digs - what third world hell holes do you have to work in before you score a diplomatic posting like this?)
While admiring the decor and trying not to spill my drink over the probably exceedingly expensive Persian rug, I had the pleasure of meeting another fascinating local: Maria.
Within the first minute I discovered that Maria had been invited as a guest of the Ambassador´s wife through their mutual passion for Latin art and literature, that she (Maria) was now a professional psychologist (this city is teeming with psychiatrists, psycho analysts and psychologists) but also a former teacher and journalist and is is married to a columnist on the Buenos Aires Herald.
And in the next minute she had given me her email address, the location for the best tango show in town and a brochure for a new art exhibition.
Maria was particularly interested in my travel plans and when I mentioned the magic word, Cusco, she exclaimed loudly:- "You must read Pablo Neruda´s famous poem Las Alturas de Machu Pichu! " And the surprisingly thing is that she managed to have a copy of some of the most oft quote cantos from this famous poem - the longest in the Spanish language- in her handbag.
Here is a sample:
Canto XII from The Heights of Macchu Picchu
Arise to birth with me, my brother.
Give me your hand out of the depths
sown by your sorrows.
You will not return from these stone fastnesses.
You will not emerge from subterranean time.
Your rasping voice will not come back,
nor your pierced eyes rise from their sockets.
Look at me from the depths of the earth,
tiller of fields, weaver, reticent shepherd,
groom of totemic guanacos,
mason high on your treacherous scaffolding,
iceman of Andean tears,
jeweler with crushed fingers,
farmer anxious among his seedlings,
potter wasted among his clays--
bring to the cup of this new life
your ancient buried sorrows.
Show me your blood and your furrow;
say to me: here I was scourged
because a gem was dull or because the earth
failed to give up in time its tithe of corn or stone.
Point out to me the rock on which you stumbled,
the wood they used to crucify your body.
Strike the old flints
to kindle ancient lamps, light up the whips
glued to your wounds throughout the centuries
and light the axes gleaming with your blood.
I come to speak for your dead mouths.
Throughout the earth
let dead lips congregate,
out of the depths spin this long night to me
as if I rode at anchor here with you.
And tell me everything, tell chain by chain,
and link by link, and step by step;
sharpen the knives you kept hidden away,
thrust them into my breast, into my hands,
like a torrent of sunbursts,
an Amazon of buried jaguars,
and leave me cry: hours, days and years,
blind ages, stellar centuries.
And give me silence, give me water, hope.
Give me the struggle, the iron, the volcanoes.
Let bodies cling like magnets to my body.
Come quickly to my veins and to my mouth.
Speak through my speech, and through my blood.
Here is the poet himself reading the same thing in Spanish:
http://www.poesia-inter.net/reci0006.htm
I must buy a copy of the full poem, in English and Spanish, for when I find myself at Macchu Piccu, hopefully in about three weeks time.
hasta luego
Debra

