BUENOS NOCHES TO BUENOS AIRES

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Ahh, what a fabulous city this is…….haven’t felt so at home anywhere for a long time, if you’ve got to live in a city then this is probably iit!
My little friend was telling me the other night about a giant frog that lives around here and it has teeth!..Well, I couldn't just let that go past, frogs don't have teeth I replied. Then it was on...all sorts of memories, anecdotes, we had the wait staff at the bar involved, later, taxi drivers, bystanders, people on the street. She had a definite advantage, she speaks espanol, so she could ask the question and filter the answers..I understand enough about espanol and also arguments with women to let it go!

We live on Esmeralda Street…now doesn’t that conjure up visions of classy, glittering elegance…the reality is a gritty, dirty concrete canyon, narrow like many of the city streets and a little zigzag giving an odd impression, like maybe it goes on forever, not like most cities that have endless straight streets that accentuate the width and breadth of the CBD….. all the streets here run forever across town, round corners, parks and plazas and continuing on, you see a street name you recognise from right across the city and sure enough you can, if you’re lucky, follow it all the way. Unlike many cities where the streets change name every second block, and the signs are always reliable….And nearly all the streets are one-way, great if they’re going your way, and the numbers all run the same ways and at the same rate, so every block will be the same 100 numbers as parallel streets, but you might be at 120 Libertad and the restaurant you want is at 4560 Libertad, take a cab it’ll be 10 kms away. But the net effect is of continuous expectations as these streets miander and criss-cross across the city…something new at every turn.
Our little apartment has a hierarchy of sleeping sites…there’s a double bed in the bedroom, a couch in the living area and a mat on the floor. When Sandy went to brasil I got bumped from the couch to the bed….Grant got bumped from floor to couch…when Sandy returned with Ted I got bumped back to the couch….Grant went home!

And the noise of the street, altho’ it’s a narrow little sucker, Esmealda seems to be on 6 or 8 major bus routes, and this city runs on busses, and swarms of black and yellow cabs, many of them Peugeot 504’s (Kate, you’re home!), so we have a stream of buses all day and all night…and they gun it from each stop, roaring, billowing black smoke, at street level, you nearly pass out from the exhaust and the rush of wind as they sweep along, passing each other, millimetres from the kerb, nearly blows you off the footpath, and vehicles rule here!..never expect anyone to slow, stop or steer around you…boom, they’ll knock you down without a thought it is absolutely the responsibility of the pedestrian to get out of the way.
After accelerating off like a Le Mans start the buses then slam on the brakes 10 seconds later for the next stop…screech of brakes, hissing of air, then off again…
Driving, or riding around the city is an experience…I’ve been threatened before but this is different…the lane markers are only an indication of the direction you are travelling…like in heavy rain you might look down, see the lane marking, keep going a bit straighter…they are in NO way indicative of where on the road you should drive…great for economy as 4 or 5 cars can fit within 3 lanes!!…with our great clumbersome machines it is always difficult to lane slip…here its impossible…(I found this out after clipping the mirror of a cab and getting “kissed” on the pannier by another!..so, I love the taxis and the buses and the underground rail…who needs to drive or ride here?


Getting back to the street. There’s a screeching, metal-on-metal, so loud it penetrates your bones, the sounds are magnified 6 floors up, rather than sound absorbing, our canyon walls are sound magnifying.

Then there’s the cars, trucks, motorbikes all honking, squealing tyres, backfiring….
There are several carparks in our block and they sound an alarm bell every time a car is leaving, no matter what time of day or night, it rings for about 2 minutes and they leave at all hours!…like living next door to the firestation during the pyromaniacs annual picnic……and there’s always some hammering or scraping, I can never see where the sounds come from but its constant, hammer, hammer, bang, crash its just noise!

The normal sirens of ambulances and yesterday the mother of all sirens, 10 times louder than the ambos, a fire truck, deafening but equally ignored by the traffic, they have the wonderfully evocative name of BOMBEROS and linked somewhat to the police/military I think as they are all packing handguns…and speaking of which…in all the countries I’ve have been thru’, all the weapons being carried appear to be VERY well used!!

In Boca the other weekend there were2 bomberos flogging caps, badges, scarves etc to raise money, they had parked their oldest, most clapped out vehicle to attest to their plight, I asked if they anything older, not wanting a brand new cap, they dug out an old, half faded T-shirt, perfecto, I gave them 50 pesos.

This is steak and red wine country…I thought I’d seen a barby or 3 but crikey, this is the mother of all barbies…Parillas, pronounced parishas, are everywhere..your real half-a-cow steak-houses…..in the front window you’ll see a giant fire pit with several animals draped on stakes surrounding the fire, a giant bed of coals…and…..I was beaten the other night in Madera…went to a restaurant…I’d been building up to a big meat night…I can only do it every 2 or 3 days…nothing to eat since a small fruit brekky about 10am..this was 10.30 at night…a bit early I know but…ordered a steak and bottle of red..the steak came….I looked at the waiter and rolled my eyes..this half-a-cow was huge, roughly the size of a house-brick…well, said the waiter, you ordered the 900 gram steak!…no way!..yes, way!…and with salad and chips…an hour later I conceded..half eaten only…I asked the waiter if he had a dog……
And I’ve also had a few attempts at lamb…like the seppos, they really haven’t come to grips with lamb, or sheep more likely, and use the same dressing techniques as with beef…doesn’t really translate….I’d still kill for a nice leg ‘o lamb wit mint sauce…or some chops…for those of you at home…get ‘’em while you can…it’s why I pigged out on bulk lamb before I left…I knew it, I just knew it!

There’s an enormous amount of garbage accumulating slowly during the day…I never see anyone actually putting it out but gradually piles of black garbags build up in particular spots on every block…then, after dark, the re-cyclers come out…it seems there is a strict code of ownership and I saw fights over interlopers trying to break into someone else’s patch…they go thru’ every bag and sort what they want, bundle up huge wool bales of whatever and trundle it off…but they always re-bag the rest, tidy up the area, and leave it for the garbage trucks that trundle thru’….also adding to the night noise!….

It’s a bit like Melbourne, Buenos Aires…only about ten times bigger…..laid back lifestyle, friendly, optimistic, opportunity (if you REALLY try!), weather too, changeable, ….its divided up into several suburbs, only a metro or bus or taxi away…Ricoleta…I can hardly ricoleta anything after lunch there…fabulous outdoor market stalls on the weekend, rows of parilla restaurants, the famous cemetery where Eva, amongst others is planted, its more expensive and exclusive than anywhere else in town, huge crypts and monuments, bigger than many houses, and almost impossible to get in here, I wonder if there is the faintest possibility of some correlation between the amount spent on the tombs and any quality of afterlife, seems incomprehensible.
Palermo, ahh Palermo, artsy, tree lined, little squares and plazas, restaurants, cafes, bars, galleries…my favourite was Spirit, an oyster and tapas place, fresh shucked Patagonian oysters and champagne, followed by a plate of tapas and red, coffee, brownie and ice cream the dessert of choice, cognac, then a little lie-down…
Boca, former port of entry for many immigrants to BA, now getting trendy but don’t stray too far from the few streets for touristas!!, found a fab gallery, my fave is the pic at thhe top…..they plied us with drinks and the roof top bar was producing fresh strawberry daiquiris…had to stop after 3 or 4 hours and several of these…mingling with the artsy crowd…oh so Melbourne!…And a few other suburbs just too numerous to mention…

This is a shoppers paradise…not just the cheap prices, but the quality and diversity of stuff is unbelievable…leather especially….clothes, shoes, jewellery….in the outdoor markets the stalls are chockers with fantastic stuff….this ain’t your same old, same old Esplanade Sunday market….OK, theres lots of crapola but also some small stalls with the most innovative, different, spectacular, jewellery in particularly…mind boggling…and the galleries, sculptures, even the billboard advertising has class….I wonder if its not a product of all the shit they have been thru politically and economically over the past 10 years or so….They have a basis of Italian/Spanish influence..(this could be any European city....tres cosmopolitan) combined with the ‘new dawn’ of stability, backed by enormous national pride…(not our jingoistic, one-day-cricket type of faux patriotism!).but its spawned a renaissance of style, culture, arts..its everywhere..an infectious optimism, an opportunity to be grabbed…I wouldn’t wish on anyone the awful things that have been done here, and the depressing political upheavals…stuff we only read about in the papers, but very close to everyone here!…but, if from this shit they can gain such energy, creativity, a tangible feeling of opportunity, its fantastic…I feel that in Melbourne things are running at about 8.5 on a scale of 1 to 10….here they’re running on 11.

Lots of ped malls, people handing out flyers for all sorts of stuff…after walking 4 or 5 blocks you’ll have a fistful of paperwork….street hawkers with all manner of crapola..ice creams to orgasmatrons…I’m watching a guy who looks more like a middle manager in a manufacturing plant, short, stocky, holding some kitch doll-in-a-blanket with his hand up the back waving the baby’s arms…..haven’t seen a sale in the 2 hours I’m watching…and everywhere the same big divide between the affluent and the effluent..lots of beggars and always ongoing generosity of the people at large…I find myself ignoring several then giving to one or two…random acts of generosity…didn’t I see a bumper sticker about that??…a group leave the table next to me…outdoor table on the ped mall…2 young kids, look around furtively, no waiter in sight, they grab as much drink as they can, scoffing the wine glasses, grimacing, grabbing the food scraps, checking for the waiter, another mouthful, then scurry off giggling insanely…

Overt affection is the order of the day…wish I had someone to kiss like this..all over, everywhere, couples kissing, touching, big toungeys in the middle of the street, in the parks, trains, buses…its everywhere..another product of the new age maybe..lots of babies and pregnancies abound..mothers with babies that look only a few hours old walking around the streets….and everyone gets the kiss hello…even on first meeting with friends of our friends, and real kisses not the hollywood airies….and the blokes as well, hugs and kisses are normal…its such a macho culture that boys embracing and kissing would never be interpreted as being gay so its quite OK…

And going downtown today…its jean washing day so I have to go out in shorts and sandals but it doesn’t stand out…the locals dress is just beyond uber-cool..man o man..this is the place for checking everyone out and looking sooo cool yourself..everyone is always checking everyone else out…always!…luckily I’ll never be a fashionista so I don’t have to worry but for the locals it’s a constant torment..gotta have the latest, the coolest, gotta look shmicko always…and they DO!!….but you can get by in whatever you want to wear…theres the suits of course, but l;ots of business people in open-neck and jeans…and lots of tatts, maybe another sign of the new age, less thought for the future, more about just getting on now!

Living in hi-rise: didn’t realise we had neighbours til I came out of the shower, walked out to the balcony to get the jocks off the line and noticed the receptionist chica in the office opposite going into apoplexy!….
Spent a bit of time on the balcony, narrow, getting the full face foetid, smokey, gritty city air…looked across and down one, got the full reflection of the dentist below me!…watched the whole operation…

And where is the revolution??..home of Che…the favourite son?….now everyone just wants to get on with getting on..the counter revolution so everyone can make money?..can’t blame them..like in Cuba the ideal seems to have gotten lost…I reckon even Fidel and Che would not recognise what’s happening, lost plots??….repression is surely not the answer but to roll over to consumerism, exploitation and the inevitable schisms, the relegation to rich or poor, no middle ground except by delusion, and the endless deluded dreams that everyone can make it (if they REALLY try!) doesn’t seem to be a better alternative…maybe better to be poor in Cuba than anywhere else but that’s no consolation….is it just up to every individual to determine how they feel about their fellow man??

And the little bars…omg…on nearly every corner, beautiful, dark wood lined, some of them a few hundred years old, plots have been hatched, revolutions planned…history everywhere, etched glass, well-worn brass handles and door openers, exquisite workmanship, polished wood chairs and tables..I llove thhe window seats to just watch the world go by…they nearly all have small kitchens so you can get snacks with your beer or coffee…tiled floors, overhead fans slowly turning, at the end of the bar, the owner sits controlling the till and checking everything, friendly wait staff in crisp but well worn uniforms, after a few visits I’m now recognised and acknowledged when I enter some of the local ones….…out on the street a flat-top truck rolls slowly by…pulls up and the jockey runs in with a crate of beer or wine or load of bread rolls or boxes of veges…still the veges come in those old slat wood boxes I remember from way back….behind the truck cars are banking up..patient predominantly but the occasional honker, still believing that by some divine intervention, some deity will miraculously dissolve the traffic in front if he just keeps honking the horn!…futility ppersonified1……and mobile phones are everywhere..again, if you’re important, you’ll have 2 or even 3!..I watch a young guy cornering on his moped, head tilted to hold his phone to his ear, hands free??

Enough already…I’ve left but I hope I’ll be back..this is a place I could live….I meant to check out the English language schools…but I’m sure they’ll take me on….

Already I’m in the south and more from here soon…

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