Don’t Cry For Argentina

May Square

La Boca

Eva Peron Mausoleum

Tango Lesson

 

Jan. 18, 2009-Historic Update

The rain brought a drop in temperature all the way to the 60's. It only went as high as the 70's today with sun after 10 AM. We're rotating seats on the bus so everyone has a chance for the front. We use the honor system and today was our turn. What a view! I may fight for the front more often.

I forgot to tell you that the door to the bathroom in our room is totally frosted glass. David proved to me that it was impossible to see in even with the light on in the bathroom. So far I've turned the bathroom lights off for "certain functions" and make do with the illumination from the hall lights that permeate the frosting. Speaking of bathrooms, we have news that the water in our bathroom at home flows once more without bursting a pipe. That's thanks to Daniel letting the tap dribble.

In email responses from home we’re hearing about preparations for the inauguration. Our hotel in Buenos Aires has no CNN in English. This morning I had it tuned to Spanish CNN and was reading the subtitles in hope that they were translating. They were Spanish as well. I quickly read one and thought it said that Osama ben Laden was going to the White House. I'd misread Obama for Osama. We'll be in transit to Iguazu Falls on the 20th. Maybe someone in Akron will record the events. We missed being home for 9/11 and now this.

All but four people are going to the tango show tonight for dinner. We opted out. Tango is omnipresent here and as we walked the streets and sat at the cafes the music was pervasive and free unless you wanted to put money in a hat. Tonight's show is largely music and singing with some dancing. We'll have to be content with Dancing With the Stars.

Gloria was our local guide for the half-day tour. Fernando, being the type-A that he is, wasn't too happy with her all the time. He frequently added to her explanations and occasionally grabbed the mike on the bus. In any case, she did tell us that in 1536 a few Spaniards sailed into the area looking for a good harbor. They named the city (in Spanish of course) Our Lady of the Good Winds. Part of the name (Buenos Aires) stuck. They may have had good winds but they had bad luck. They were all killed by natives. With a score of Spain 0 Natives 1, the rematch was deadly for the indigenous tribes when Spain returned in 1580. From 1880-1930 Argentina prospered to the extent that it was the second largest economy in the world after the US.

Everywhere we've been there have been streets and squares named May this or July that. The reason is that the war of independence from Spain began on May 25, 1810 and ended July 9,1816. As we stood in May Square we realized we were looking at the magnificent art deco and art nouveau architecture from a bygone era. Wrought iron balconies overhung the street giving it a very New Orleans feel. There was a familiarity that was later explained. This is the Square where the Mothers of the stolen children marched. The government kidnapped babies of dissenters and gave them to loyalist families to be raised. Trials went on for years accusing the government of murder and kidnapping. Now children who are realizing they were stolen are suing their adoptive parents. It's a mess that only DNA can straighten out and not all children want to know. At the far end of the Square another familiar structure was the pink palace where Evita (and later Madonna) spoke to the people. The Oliver Stone film was shot there. Stone came to ask the president for permission to film and was turned down because the president and possibly the people of Argentina hated the musical. Stone also made a gaffe when he referred to Evita as part whore and part saint. Whatever the opinion of Peron, Evita is still revered. Stone’s only recourse was to return to plead once more with Madonna in tow. The president was a pushover for a beautiful woman and capitulated.

I asked about the Holocaust Memorial in the Square and Gloria acknowledged we could see it. We toured the church and when we headed outside I asked again. Fernando got really annoyed that she hadn't shown it to us. I was told last night at dinner that it was on the "side of the church" and thought that meant outside on the street. It turned out to be a framed collection of pages of prayer books, Megillah, and music salvaged from concentration camps and was displayed off a side aisle in the church.

Current Events

We rode another subway. The ones here aren't as fancy as Santiago and have ancient wooden train cars that rock and roll as they speed along. It's an easy system to use and we may ride it alone tomorrow. But cabs are cheap if shared so that's an option too. Several people have colds and some who would be game to walk to and from the subway station are slowing down about now.

Gloria told us that people in Buenos Aires (Portenos) reflect the Italian influence in their city. They're said to speak Spanish with an Italian accent. We got onto the subject of Portenos and told her of the view we got of the present president, Christina Kirchner. She succeeded her husband and the families at dinner last night claimed she was bi-polar and just holding the presidency until her husband could run again. Gloria agreed but Fernando is a supporter. He says she and her husband are Peronists. They're a bit conservative on some issues and liberal on others. It turns out that Buenos Aires is quite gay friendly and has civil unions. They don't know how strong the unions are legally. There's a case in court now where a man is having to fight to get the pension of his deceased partner. Latin America has never been progressive and abortion is still illegal. Argentina was the first country in South America to give women the vote and that wasn't until 1950.

We got a quick orientation tour of the neighborhood of San Telmo where the Sunday flea and antique market was in progress. When we drove to La Boca, another neighborhood, it was explained that the La Boca Juniors was a premier team out of the twenty soccer teams in the city. The stadium dominates the area with its blue and yellow colors screaming their pride. The story goes that the team met to decide on its colors and couldn't come to a conclusion. Someone decided they should walk a few blocks to the river and adopt the colors of the flag of the first ship that sailed into view. It was Swedish, thus the blue and yellow. The area was settled by the poorest of poor and they used what material they could salvage from the waterfront. It is now know for its brilliantly painted corrugated metal facades and there is talk of gentrification. It has a Sunday handicrafts market as well but somehow refrigerator magnets don't scream handicrafts to me. They did have extremely aggressive women dressed in red tango garb who threw themselves at tourists in hopes of having their picture taken with the stunned target....for a price. They pounced on David and I have a wonderful picture of him with a rather bemused expression and bright red lip prints on his cheek.

On our way to Recoleta (yes, another neighborhood) Laura Lee asked Gloria about the statue of a little girl looking out to sea. At first Gloria didn't understand which statue it was but then said, "That is not a little girl. That is Christ." It was an easy mistake and Laura Lee was permitted to stay on the bus. It's a good thing because we weren't taking the scenic route. We were in the slums and a very unsavory area. In fact we've been told not to wander around by foot after 9 PM.

Recoleta has another flea market but we were going there to see Evita's mausoleum. Peron didn't realize she'd die so young and bought her family a mausoleum in the fanciest cemetery there was. She was twenty-six when they married and thirty-three when she died of uterine cancer. Not to say there was a party atmosphere among the elaborate crypts but Fernando showed up eating an ice-cream cone.

The bus let us off at the hotel and we took a cab with Ann and Leo (he's one with a cold) back to San Telmo. We lucked out for lunch. The first place we came to turned out to be a tapas bar, Cafe Sagardi, where an American living here rescued us and pointed out the non-pork/non-shellfish goodies. The charge was seven pesos ($2) per item. When you were finished they counted the toothpicks on your plate. There was a buffet with an array of tempting morsels and waiters came to the tables passing even more ala dim sum. We ate outside and were serenaded by a phenomenal tango singer and band. We waded into the market crowds after lunch and did some shopping for a couple of hours. We taxied back to the hotel and scouted out a food court across the street at the galleria for dinner.

Tango On

We debated whether or not to show up for a free tango lesson before the others went to the tango show. We decided that we were old enough not to care about making fools of ourselves. The diminutive instructors made it look complicated but insisted we'd have no trouble. I worried that some body part would either fly off or disconnect. Neither happened. The male dancer came to my waist and when it was my turn to dance with him I found out what it meant to be led by a pro. There was no way I wasn't going where he wanted me. David and Fernando were the only other men and were good sports about it. Fernando said his parents didn't tango as it was out of favor in the 50's-70's.

We did have a bite at the food court. They had beef sausages. They came on chunks of Italian bread with a side of bread. They gave us the ketchup and mustard we requested but also included three little cups of chimichuri, chopped onion salsa, and a mystery spread that looked like tartar sauce and tasted like bland salt-free butter. We figured out that we did have to clear our table but when we got to the trash receptacle there was someone whose job it was to dump the tray for us. They also have people opening the doors at the entry to the mall.

David likes Buenos Aires much better than Santiago as far as cities go. There's an energy and character that is cosmopolitan yet lovely. Of course it's Sunday and we haven't experienced week-day traffic. Tomorrow we'll take a boat ride on the delta of the Parana River that flows into the Rio de la Plata. We'll be free after that until our final banquet. I can't believe this portion is over already.

Toby