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Published: December 21st 2013
BEDS 'R BURNING IN BUENOS AIRES.
The 6th wealthiest country in the World in the 1950s...inflation in the hundreds of percents 1998-2002...now I understand the song 'Cry for me Argentina'...this land of past glories.
Yet a land filled with present glories...evidenced by its past, its present, its people...its stunning landscapes.
A week in B.A before Patagonia...no way you're staying in a hotel they said...you'd offend the family...so we stayed in Adrogue in the North of B.A...the home of Martin & Mercedes...gracious hosts.
Mercedes 9 months pregnant...ready to pop any moment...gave us their young daughter's room...our Aussie mate & his Argentinian partner in separate lodgings out the front.
Part of their extended family for a month...extraordinary generosity afforded to us...pretty well parties every night...but like life...plenty of curve balls.
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The extended family all lived in Adrogue.
Fernando Srn was the patriarch and being the local abogado (lawyer), he made a point of looking after me. Mum always welcoming...Mercedes with heaps of good looking siblings...uncles with fancy restaurants...some special meals.
One of my favourites was Fernando Jrn...I called him "the Patron Saint of Dogs"...often putting himself out to take us places,
like our day at Rio de la Plata...always there for a chat...passionate about football...his team, Racing (La Academia), 16 Primera Championships, the first Argentinian club to win World Club Champion...but little since.
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My mate bought a sword...no idea how he thought he'd get it home...had to climb over a well dressed begger in a red coat to exit the shop...hands cupped nonchalently as if he didn't expect a dime...cigarette hanging from his lip...more interested in listening to conversation...wondered whether he understood me asking...why on earth do you want to buy a sword?
Up the road like city centre...parliament type buildings...big church full of treasures of religiosity...if it wasn't the inflation...the church still got its tithe...let's try city park...but police block our way.
A demonstration seemed to be happening each day in B.A...this day for the anniversary of 200 that died in a nightclub fire...road lined with police armoured vans...park full of banners and rowdy people...graffiti of complaint on some of the stone buildings...sort of seemed in place.
Streets spotted with architectural grandeur of centuries past...grand buildings...needing a spruce up...wow...sort of picture the old days...citizens in their finery...exhibiting wealth...but nowadays? Not so sure.
You can sort of tell the affluence of a place by the cars in the streets.
In Sydney everyone has a nice car...even the cheap ones look newish.
In Buenos Aires there were plenty of nice cars...but heaps of crappy ones...rust buckets...blowing smoke...no way they'd be allowed on the roads in OZ...as if registration laws did not apply to the less affluent...sort of flagged an economic uncertainty in the country...sort of coloured that not everyone had it good.
Posters plastered on light poles...posters of missing people...not handfuls...heaps of them...surely those times have long gone...of people waiting years for loved ones never to come home.
And then there were the beggars...often sorry looking mothers with dirty babes in arms...homeless encampments in parks...groups of kids in fancy shoes...taking turns to hang outside restaurants...chatting up girls...hand held out with the other.
But there was a feel in B.A...a grandeur that excited my soul...it wasn't just the buildings...or its widest street in the World...it was a city of people...a proud people...and I sort of felt at home.
*****
Recoleta...the graveyard of the rich and famous...elaborate statues and crypts...old church one end...dated highrises looking down
from the back...largest crowd for the tomb of Evita...necessary to queue. Sombre place...atmosphere lifted by a group of young Goths...larking around.
Time for coffee...coffee culture I am told...no better place than Cafe Tortoni circa 1858?
Insisting we have short blacks...plane tickets to Patagonia passed to us under the table...fear we'd be robbed...gotta say I thought that was over the top...but what would I know?
Famous Pizza restaurant for dinner...pics of famous footballers...thought you said this place was famous...where are the fillings? How come they are comprised entirely of cheeze? Talk about rich...felt somewhat squeamish after that...dilutes the enjoyment of the meal.
I thought Argentina was beef, beef and more beef...this place cheeze, cheeze and more cheeze!
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B.A. was also for lunches...had some rippers...but the one that springs to mind was outside...hundreds of diners crammed in tight...and right in the middle a dude lights up the biggest foulest cigar I've met...right near me of course.
Was I polite...this gringo on his turf? Nah...those near him spreading apart to escape...squashing others...Nah...couldn't say nothing.
Did he care? Nah.
Did I just whimper and turn away? Nah.
Did he care? Nah.
Did I give up? Did I prevail?
Silly question. Those that know me...!
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One night Denise & I decided we'd walk to Adrogue central and find a place for a meal. Lucky Mercedes drew a map or we'd have never got there. Picked a really fancy colonial style restaurant...we no Spanish...none spoke English...where are our friends when you need them? Just as we like it.
Amazing meal...an amazing night...proud we did it...really proud how I ordered drinks.
Argentina is famous for its Malbec...OK...nice bottle.
Something fizzy...con gas?
How about bitter lemon...Schweppes? Took heaps of negotiation. Yep...I think he's got it.
Got the largest glass of freshly squeezed lemon juice I've ever seen...bitter as.
From that moment throughout Argentina...lemon juice with a soda flask was my drink of choice.
Lucky that guy helped us find our way home...funny how streets look so different when its really dark.
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Yep we got to Boca...through its gaudily painted streets of Caminito...past the wire fenced off area known as Republica de la Boca...areas told too dangerous...even to the massive stadium of Boca Juniors...my mate nearly robbed.
But nearly...that ain't robbed.
Even to the Delta...home of River Plate at Rio de la Plata to the south.
But our best brush with football was in the B.A. city park...just Den & I wandering through.
A game of street kids...ages about 10 to 18...a few of them with extraordinary skills.
I know my football...I travel the World in two Socceroo t-shirts...got a plasma TV to see the World Cup...saw Man U -v- Chelsea in a backyard pub in Tanzania...know all TV channels in Argentina seem to show football highlights 24/7.
One of these kids in the park would be about the most skilled I've ever seen....the tall skinny one with the white spiked hair.
He'd dribble...then flip the ball onto his shirtless chest...and run...just fast enough so the ball would just hover on his chest...then let it drop and flick pass to a mate.
So we sat on a park bench and watched enthralled.
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A guy walked through the middle of the game...about 19 or 20...thuggish muscled guy...shapely rough chick with him...up himself scowl on his face...throwing stones hitting one of the little skilful kids...seems to
be trying to disrupt the game.
The boys try to ignore him...but he grabs the ball and kicks it away...then pashes his girlfriend to ensue she is proud of him...hassles some of the teens...then pashes his girlfriend again.
The skinny white spiked kid just sits on the ground...others sit with him...they seem to know the bully.
The bully realises no one will fight him...throws more stones at the kids...malicious not casual.
Then picks up the ball and stomps on it until it is flat and lifeless.
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Asked the spiked white haired kid if he played for a team.
Been asked a few times he said...but his parents can't afford the fees.
Often wonder if he ever made it.
Know my football...this boy about the most skilful I've ever seen.
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The accident Easy being good hosts...but good guests?
Determined for a little thank you to our hosts for New Years Eve...flying to Bariloche in the Andes early next morning...so head into Adrogue to score some presents.
Then we saw it...or to be more precise...them.
Dudes by the roadside selling fireworks.
But not just sparklers, bungers or Golden Rains used to buy as a kid in OZ...nah...this was Big Time...like massive fireworks...the sort they'd light up the Harbour Bridge back home.
So we bought about $200 worth...over the top I know...but I've never seen such big fireworks.
Did a charity fireworks show once for handicapped kids...special licence for my mate and me to let off monsters.
The Adrogue babies were twice that size...like some up to a foot wide!
Family BBQ for NYE...Argentinian BBQ style...boeuf...boeuf and more boeuf.
As midnight approached...called everyone into the street...time for our thank you show.
Dong...dong...dong...turns twelve...explosions...Adrogue lighting up everywhere...street too many trees...can't let off my big babies...only small ones...ahh...mmm...maybe later.
Where's everyone rushing off to?
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When I first arrived at this house I noticed it.
When I walked the streets of B.A. and Adrogue I noticed it.
Traps I call them...no public liability laws around here...things sticking out of footpaths ready to trip over.
My mate's Argentinian partner had tripped over that piece of metal that protruded out of the driveway...possibly for a bolt for a gate long gone...when
I first arrived at this house I noticed it...but in the dark...in high heels...watching the Dancing One's fireworks...well...not the sort of thing you notice.
She had fallen...landed on her arms...didn't scream or anything...but everyone gathered 'round...are you O.K?
Insisting go to hospital...just down the road...check it out as we're leaving in the morning.
First there as it turned out...then the groundswell of masses with fireworks injuries.
The doctor thought she had sprained her wrist...but if you like you can come back another day and we'll take x-rays.
Sorry to say it...but she was Latin...and got off on the attention.
Our trip to Patagonia now in the balance.
Of course I was concerned...must have been written on my face.
Everyone coming up to me for the rest of the night..."Don't look so sad...it's not your fault."
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We then moved to Martin & Mercedes' place for a party...lively crowd...vodka shots...open backyard.
So I let off my big babies...lit up the sky...would've been fantastic if there was not the accident hanging in the air.
Got to bed at 3 a.m...alarm set for 6 a.m...early flight...couldn't sleep...are we leaving
in the morning?
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Denise & I left alone in the morning...taxi to the airport...our friends not coming...better get x-rays...you go...we may join you later.
How are we going to cope?
No Spanish...no experience...plane tickets yes...car hire yes...blues and rock & roll yes...pocket camera yes...guess we drive down the Andes...just the two of us.
Yes!!!
*****
Midnight Oil's "Beds are Burning" on the radio...turn it right up please...bopping along.
Drove through windswept streets that B.A. New Year morning...light lifting over a city recovering from the excesses of the night before...people staggering in front of cars...empty bottles everywhere...bodies everywhere.
Then one body on the footpath...face down...one leg twisted vertically in the air...got a wisp of his corpse...grabbed a plastic bag and threw up...taxi stops...jump out and complete under a tree...another mangled body just there smiling at me.
Shishhhh.
What are we getting ourselves into???
Relax & Enjoy,
Dancing Dave
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John and Sylvia
John Wallace & Sylvia Bowman Wallace
Thought you were going to Tasmania
Did you change your mind? Great blog. Great pics. Wherever you are, have a wonderful Christmas.