Life in a year full of Saturdays: Buenos Aires

Buenos Aires (Argentina)
26-29 of August 2012

'It's a Sunday morning and I'm standing out on the Reserva Ecológica Costenera Sur' I literally say that line in my head as I'm standing there, in fact I remember the time when I first wrote it, where I was when I wrote it and how I was feeling at the time. The reserve is a low lying area of land on the eastern border of the city and it fronts the mighty murk of the Rio de la Plata. It's quite a large area that is criss-crossed by a myriad of nature trails more than are suitable for cycling, running or just strolling in the BA sunshine ever so casually, as is the Porteno way. It also allows a person to quite easily lose themselves from the movement,beat and eternal hum of this city. I know this place, where I'm standing right now, I know it. In in a different guise and in a different time, but it's emblazoned in the timeline of my mind. I carry a piece of Costenera Sur with me always, I carry an event of something that happened two years earlier and one that in my mind will never 'unhappen', or so I hope. For right now however I'm going to quote my own words that are taken from the evening that I'm referring to just so that you know where it is, that on this glorious Sunday morning in Buenos Aires, with only 20 pesos in my pocket, my mind took me, a moment of my life in two separate times. One in the present, one of the present remembered:

13 October 2010

'I'm standing out on the grounds of Castenera Sur, an ecological park on the eastern border of Buenos Aires which fronts the Rio de la Plata. Rage Against The Machine have for over the last hour delivered a ferocious, brutal set that has lit the fuse of testosterone amongst a predominantly male audience. The intensity of the performance, the power of the delivery and the common themes within the lyrics of their songs of raging against the establishment, fighting oppression and standing up for ones rights are not lost amongst the Argentinian faithful. The tumultuous political history of this country and some of the horrors suffered by its people fits the message that Rage delivers like a glove. As if by design the rain increases in intensity during their set, assisting in the transference of an invisible electric current through a 50,000 strong audience so that at the point where they drop the bomb of 'Killing in the name of', the charge is released, lifting the crowd off their feet in unison, bouncing bodies off one another like protons in a nuclear reaction.....

For this last hour I've been carried along by both a wave of emotion and the immovable force which is the vast sea of people around me. This moment and this particular time however, for me, has been more than just the music, more than the energy, even more than the sum total of the individual components of the event. Drifting in and out of my own thoughts whilst relinquishing myself to the ebb and flow off the human tide that has consumed my being has strangely enough given me the opportunity of being able to connect with myself without distraction. As strange as that may sound, the unanswered questions that have been rolling around my head for some months, those of which I really hadn't attacked, for some reason at this point in time and in this space required a little attention'

Puerto Madero - Buenos Aires - Argentina

Puerto Madero skyline from Castanera Sur - Buenos Aires - Argentina

Puerto Madero tramway - Buenos Aires - Argentina

If you feel like reading the entry from where those paragraphs are taken then it can be located here - Buenos Aires - The Quickening. I also recall that I wrote half that entry on an overnight bus ride out of Buenos Aires to Mendoza and finished it off in a small hostel in that city working on a PC that was so slow that it took me all night to upload the photos, (seriously I saw the sun come up that morning), to finish it off. To quote one Mr Oscar Wilde, 'Memory...is the diary that we all carry around with us'. As I've mentioned quite a few times in my entries over the years, I feel more than fortunate to have the memories that I've had in the places that I've had them in. I like the idea that for me there are many places around the world where I can return to, stand, drift off and remember another time in the very same space whilst simultaneously appreciating the moment that I'm currently in. Looking at the backdrop of thehigh rise buildings of Puerto Madero on this morning I recall the very same scene of that evening, I also remember the incessant rain that came down during the set, the lights of the buildings refracted and magnified through the drops of water falling from the blackness of the sky and I remember Rage Against the Machine grabbing the crowd by their collective collar, lifting them up off their feet and then triggering the reaction that released an explosion of pure energy and fury. It was a violent assault, an unforgettable moment...and so far removed in time from where I was on this Sunday morning. Still, it made me smile now, as it did then.

I didn't have the opportunity to wander through the ecological reserve on my last occasion in BA, and now, well it was about the only thing I could afford to do until my funds became available the next day, but truth be told I had set aside a day to do this in any case so it kind of worked out perfectly. Also it just so happens that on Sundays there is an outdoor street fair on the main promenade of the Castanera Sur. Apparently more 'authentic' and more of a 'tourist free' environment than the Sunday markets in San Telmo, although in all honesty I didn't notice the difference other than one being more crowded than the other. What I did appreciate however were all the food stands, unlike the fair weathered 'fair crowd' that habitate the promenade only on Sundays these food stands are ever present and their culinary angle made it feel as though they had been built specifically to cater for my carnivorous cravings! It's meat a meat haven! Morcillas, morzipans, choripans, bondiolas, hamburguesas, vacipans - it's like Buenos Aires sourced Henry Elisher for culinary guidance then just went 'Yup, that's what we're gonna go with!'.

Did someone say meat? Castanera Sur - Buenos Aires - Argentina

It was only 10am when I hit the boardwalk of the Castanera Sur but the smells from the grills were so intoxicating that I commenced mentally reconstructing the manner in which I would need to divide and utilise my bountiful sum of 28 pesos that I had for the day until I made the pick up from Western Union. Those damn choripans were looking so good and for just 8 pesos where worthwhile investment in satisfying the small screaming Argentinian 'meatavore' inside me! I loaded it with chimmichurri and then drifted of into my culinary nirvana, floating contentedly into the wilds of the reserve.

Reserva Ecologica - Castanera Sur - Buenos Aires - Argentina

Losing yourself within the space of the reserve doesn't take a fist full of IQ points. Buenos Aires is to your back as you enter and drops so quickly from sight that you really feel as though you could anywhere else. It's quiet. It's peaceful. And under the warming high noon sun of a South American Winter the rays sing their own sweet silent lullaby, cajoling the willing participant to partition off their own piece of Rio de la Plata real estate and drift away on the currents of their day dreams for an hour or so. The sultry seductress can be persuasive and who was I to deny an hour in bed with Buenos Aires?

Reserva Ecologica - Castanera Sur - Buenos Aires - Argentina

Rio de la Plata - Reserva Ecologica - Castanera Sur - Buenos Aires - Argentina

Feeling refreshed after my little tryst I spent the next 2hrs meandering on the most eastern border of the reserve, contemplating, reflecting, appreciating, throw in any other adverb and currency based activity restriction here and you've pretty much got where my head space was. I'd say it was definitely in tranquillo territory, although with that said, my internal Argentinian was starting to feeling hungry once again and was screaming out for another choripan - 'Una mas chori mi amigo, por favor...vamos muchachos!'. Mathematically I knew it could be done, I could take out another chori and still have a whole 12 pesos for an evening take away munch from El Desvivel on Defensa. Internally I was satisfied with that result and that's the way I decided to play it out. Convinced and content once more I headed back to Defensa in San Telmo. It was Sunday after all and that meant the Sunday markets were going to be in full swing. I love the San Telmo markets, it's a stage of petty commerce, trade, sights, sounds and smells. It activates all your senses, and even though I had only a couple of dollars in my pocket it felt as though the day was turning into an unplanned win, almost as if BA was attempting to make up for what it had unintentionally put me through the day before.

Puerto Madero from the Reserva Ecologica - Castanera Sur - Buenos Aires - Argentina

Welcome to San Telmo

Samba crew - San Telmo - Buenos Aires - Argentina

Che Guevara mural - San Telmo - Buenos Aires - Argentina

Streetscape - Sant Telmo - Buenos Aires - Argentina

Old school cool - Bar El Federal - Buenos Aires - Argentina

Late in the afternoon I cruised back to the Ayres Portenos and crashed out on my bed for a while. It was during that time that I met Mike from Mendoza. Mike was an older American guy, I'd say in his late 60's, and was on his way to Colonia de Sacramento, a short ferry ride across the Rio de la Plata. He kind of had an odd presence about him but we started chatting never the less. That's the cool thing about hostels, they kind of force you to engage in conversation, a particularly great thing for me because I'm not naturally an instigator at all, I need to be pulled into a conversation. Mike explained that this was his first real stay of any length in Buenos Aires and mentioned that just in the surrounding blocks he thought that he'd been lined up for the old Bird poo on the jacket scam (look it up, it's well known). I dropped to Mike that I'd read of the scame but never encountered it and thought it to be an urban myth. I then went on to induldge Mike in my own tales of woe that originated in Montevideo a couple of days earlier. As I reflect on the ecounter now I think there was a small part of me that was testing Mike out so as to see how nice he was, actually I was kind of banking on it. After I led Mike into the details of my misfortune the conversation continued like this:

'Well, how about I just give you 100 pesos until tomorrow' - Mike

'Oh no, thanks for the offer Mike but I'm ok' - Henry

'Are you sure now?' - Mike

'Absolutely, it's very generous of you but I'm fine' - Henry

I was slow playing Mike like a champ. Although if nothing came up it then it really wouldn't have bothered me either, I mean the offer genuinely was nice. Still, we remained quite for a few mins and then it came...

'You're going to make me do it aren't you?' - Mike

'What's that?' - Henry

'You're going to make me take you to dinner! C'mon, the place on the corner does a great steak and their Malbecs are fantastic' - Mike

'Why thank you Mike, ok, lets do that then' - Henry

So we walked the 20 paces out of the Ayres Portenos to the restaurant door, a place called Parilla del Plata. Now it was sweet Malbec and bife de chorizo time, oh yeah! Mike and I chatted for quite some time. I discovered that he had purchased himself an estancia in Mendoza when he had retired and that was now his gig. He had lived in Canada previously and was US born, from Texas, but America and American ideology, specifically that of the South, was just not his deal. His life in Argentina was just the way he wanted it. Comfortable, relaxing and entertaining. Without question Mike appeared to be interesting character and with each passing glass of wine quite the conversationalist, but each passing glass also brought out the sleaze in Mike. It wasn't something that I was expecting and certainly not something that I really wanted to hear from this silver topped old timer, but there I was, caught in my service of gratitude, indebted to Mike for shouting me dinner, and thus there I remained. I was Mikes' guest for the evening and now I had to listen to him wax lyrical about his 'love' of younger girls, particularly those from Eastern Europe - ewwww dude, I wasn't mentally prepared to hear any of that! I mean I could retell the tales but they're not anything that I really want to be reading now or any other day in my future. On the whole Mikey boy was still OK and we sat it out at the restaurant until closing, which in Buenos Aires on any day of the week is late!

Plaza de Mayo - Buenos Aires - Argentina

Punta de la mujer - Puerto Madero - Buenos Aires - Argentina

Puerto Madero - Buenos Aires - Argentina

27 August 2012

Monday morning, time to get some cash from Western Union. This time the transaction occurred without alarm. Two days earlier would have been nicer but OK, was the hand that I had to play with. This day was an absolute cruise with no real agenda. I strolled through Centro and took down the necessary souvenirs for family and friends and generally wandered aimlessly. Somehow I made nightfall without really knowing how time had passed me by.

In the evening I headed down to Puerto Madero and tried to locate a restaurant that I had been to two years previously. A place that has greatest meat buffet you could imagine. A smorgasbord of every meat you could possibly desire all washed down with an imperious and I must say requisite Mendozan malbec! Like c'mon people, how smokin' was my life for this evening!?

28 August 2012

My final day in BA took place in the barrio of Recoleta. One of the most stylish and most European of the city. I had the aim of visiting Recoleta cemetery and seeing the final resting place of Eva Peron, which I did. A totally unremarkable burial plot in convesely an absolutely remarkable cemetry. It holds pride of place in Recoleta and is probably some of the most expensive real estate in Buenos Aires. The cemetery itself is intriguing and kind of oddly beautiful in a macabre type of way. Well worth the time I dedicated that to make my way through the 'little city of the dead'.

Recoleta cemetery - Recoleta - Buenos Aires - Argentina

Walking back to Centro I headed down Avenida Sante Fe and stopped in at the most incredible bookstore that I'd ever seen anywhere in the world. This place is built on the site of an old theatre. It's three stories high, spectacular and dramatic, and quite the display for a dedication to the written word. Obviously 90% of the texts were in Spanish but that didn't bother me at all. I was more than happy to spend quite sometime walking around and mentally spending my pesos on items that I would have dearly loved to have taken back to Australia.

Family tomb of Durante, the burial spot of Evita Peron - Recoleta cemetery - Recoleta - Buenos Aires - Argentina

Recoleta cemetery - Recoleta - Buenos Aires - Argentina

The EPIC bookstore on Avenida Santa Fe - Recoleta - Buenos Aires - Argentina

La noche está en pañales - it's Argentinian slang for the night is still young. As I walked back down Avenida Santa Fe I convinced myself that as the saying suggests, the night was still in diapers. Like Madrid and San Sebastian, this town and I just have a magical fit. I don't quite understand how it works, I don't know how it is that there are some places in this world where I don't have family or friends but am still able to feel right at home. Buenos Aires me is that type of town to me. Perhaps to a certain extent it's because the language is not completely foreign, I have an intermediate grasp of Spanish and it's improving all the time, but it's more than that. BA has a feel that inspires me, it's a sense of excitement, anticipation and comfort all rolled into one. I gain pleasure from her, enjoy her company and perhaps those are the more pertinent aspects of our 'relationship'.

Band practice! SanTelmo - Buenos Aires - Argentina

Malbec from Mendoza, what could be better!?!? Puerto Madero - Buenos Aires - Argentina

As the evening settled in I headed back down to the restaurant that I had occupied in Puerto Madero the previous evening. The food was magnificent and the malbec was just the tonic to sooth those pangs of loss that I was already feeling for having to leave once again. In those moments it didn't take me a long time to realise that very soon I would be making plans to come back once again, creating more of those evenings in Buenos Aires that would once more be young and full of promise!

29 August 2012

I dozed prior to my flight from Ezeiza back home. One of those rare peaceful sleeps that you somehow manage to have in public places. Odd but enjoyable, althoughI think in airports it's acceptable to sprawl out whenever required and where space can be found. My time in Buenos Aires on this occasion was short, but the tme spent won't be my last. I'll be back, that you can count on!