Bloga Juniors Dos - El Fulgor Argentino

I have arrived in Easter Island, a land which can easily make one feel like Super Mario. However, my hostel has no internet, which means you'll be seeing this a good deal after I write it. Travel is complicated like that, especially when it involves trying to connect to the global community from the most remote inhabited place on Earth. At any rate, the subject of this post is not Easter Island (I got in after dark, so I haven't seen any moai--giant heads--yet), but rather my most recent night in Buenos Aires.

Last night I had the great pleasure of attending a work of Argentine community theater, called Club Social y Deportivo El Fulgor Argentino. The show was at Teatro Catalinas Sur in La Boca, and had some truly excellent props assembled by my friend and fellow Wesleyanite Hannah Nielsen-Jones. Hannah and her boyfriend John have been living in BA for a while, but we only just managed to get together this week. They are truly awesome people, but I'll come back to them in a bit.

The show was excellent. I tend to be pretty jaded about all things theater, but this was really everything it should be. The piece is a revue of Argentine history from 1930-2030 (the future part is pretty crazy), with the country represented by El Fulgor, a social and sporting club of the type that is quite prominent in Argentine society. It's a musical with a cast of over 100 performers, very creative songs and staging, and phenomenal costumes. It also features some astonishing puppetry--puppets made by the same guy who does most of the lifesize statues (muñecos, in Spanish) in La Boca--executed in truly creative ways. For example, there is a sequence in which the whole group dances Tango in a circle, each pair made up of one person and one puppet, connected at the feet, so that the puppets' feet move in synch with those of their partners. There is another moment in which an actor appears in military garb with a puppet on either side, connected both at the arms and the head, so that they mimic his every move. It is really something to behold.

In a lot of ways, my enjoyment of the show mirrors my enjoyment of Uruguayan Murga. In addition to having moments in which the musical style was similar--the finale, in particular--I was most impressed by the wholehearted commitment of everyone involved, and the degree to which this is really just a labor of love for the local culture. The cast is all volunteers, and the logistical nightmare that must be involved in coordinating so many people in something so complex is totally obscured by the seemless transitions on stage. It's clear that everyone involved has put a tremendous amount of sweat into the project, but seeing them perform gives the impression that they were all born into the script.

I was also particularly happy because this was the most accessible Argentine culture has felt for me in Buenos Aires. It is easy to feel that there is a Buenos Aires for the locals, and a separate one for the tourists. Certainly New York can be like that, so I don't mean this as a criticism. But even something like tango, which is a major part of the cultural history of the city, often shows up in a form that feels somewhat camped up for the sake of the out-of-town crowd. At El Fulgor, those feelings washed away. I don't know that anyone there other than Hannah, John, John's parents, and me spoke English--certainly not as a first language. I finally felt a part of the city in exactly the way I had been looking for and struggling to find. So, a hearty thank you to Hannah and John for inviting me to share in that.

And now that I've come back to the subject of how awesome Hannah and John are, I have to say that it was really great to see a familiar face. What's funny is that I hadn't seen Hannah in six years, and I'd never met John. So there's no reason it should have been that different from spending time with the various friends I've made throughout the trip. But one thing that does happen when you're meeting new people and making new friends is that you inevitably have your guard up a bit--no matter how awesomely down-to-earth your new friends may be. So it was just incredibly relaxing to be in a spot where I had even the slightest sense of home. I even felt that way after we discussed the most academically intimidating class I ever took, Colonialism and its Consequences in the Americas*. At any rate, it's really remarkable how valuable a bit of familiarity can be after a three-months of new experiences. And, to repeat, Hannah and John = good people.

There's a three-hour time change that I'm dealing with now, so I'm going to go to sleep. Hopefully I'll be able to find some time to post this, and presumably by the time that happens I will already have seen some giant stone heads. I've been working on my moai impression, so hopefully I can break that out soon. For now, I'm going to work toward an early start tomorrow.

Saludos,
Seth

*My struggles in that class forced me to confront how unseriously I took academic study, and, to an extent, myself. I still think it's good not to get too wrapped up in oneself, but I've at least gotten the intellectually serious thing down--or at least some semblance thereof.

El Fulgor Argentino

Bloga Juniors

Buenos Aires has delivered.  This morning I hopped on a bus with my flatmates Elizabeth and Marty, and we headed to La Boca.  La Boca is an old immigrant neighborhood, sort of the Buenos Aires version of the Lower East Side.  It originally drew so many immigrants because of the port, which provided a number of jobs in the shipping industry.  La Boca is perhaps best known as the birthplace of tango (although San Telmo makes the same claim), but it has much more than just that to commend it.  Because the economy centered so much around the port, the houses were built from scrap zinc, and were painted with paint leftover from the ships.  Thus the extremely specific sheet-metal-and-bright-paint Boca aesthetic was born.

Boca has a bit of a reputation for being one of the tougher areas in the city.  While I'm certain that there are parts that one is best off avoiding, I'd spoken to a number of people who reported that the areas just off the extremely touristy El Caminito (little road) are perfectly fine, and in fact more pleasant.  I probably wouldn't wander around there at night, but it was a lovely place to walk around on a Monday morning.  Although El Caminito is full of the usual touristy schlock, the surrounding areas were downright tranquil.  What's more, the look and feel of the place held firm, and in many ways felt more authentic.

An interesting thing about Buenos Aires that I hadn't really picked up on until my trip to La Boca is the role of direct-marketers in the street.  Just as in New York and plenty of other places, one encounters an endless sea of people handing out flyers.  And just as in New York, my initial instinct is to just ignore them--usually saying "no, gracias"--and keep walking.  But twice today, Marty, Elizabeth and I found ourselves stopped to figure out where to go next, while standing immediately adjacent to one of these hawkers.  And both times, after it became clear that we weren't going to take their flyers, they started talking to us.  It turns out that they're extremely friendly--especially if you speak Spanish.  One ultimately directed us to a lovely little courtyard parilla where we had lunch.  I also got to try a proveleta, which is literally just a 5-inch diameter circular slab of grilled provolone cheese.  I paired it with a salad of course.  Sort of the Mitch Hedberg philosophy of  eating.  (e.g. "if you eat something healthy, the unhealthy stuff you eat with it doesn't count.  It's like the lettuce says 'don't worry, he's with me.'")  It was delicious, but definitely made me feel like I needed a nap. 

Boca is also home to Boca Juniors, one of Argentina's two most popular soccer teams (along with River Plate*).  Boca Juniors was the team for which Diego Maradona used to play, and they play in the famous La Bombonera stadium.  La Bombonera, decked out in the team's classic blue and gold, is an architecturally interesting structure.  When they built it, they didn't have enough room for a traditional bowl-shaped stadium.  So it's as though they built one, and then just pressed it in from one side--one of the long sides of the pitch has vertically-tiered seating like boxes in an opera house.  The stadium also houses the "Museum of Boca's Passion," which is the very excellent official name for the soccer museum.

At any rate, I was thrilled with the whole experience because I had been looking around for something that distinguished Buenos Aires from any other large city.  For all I had heard of how European it feels, it seemed to be sort of a recreation of a generic European city, as opposed to its own unique entity.  Having been to La Boca, I no longer feel that way.  Although the touristy parts were almost Disneyesque, the historical authenticity of the neighborhood couldn't help but come through.

I should also add that yesterday I went to El Zanjón, which is a recent archaeological find.  It was a mansion in the late 19th century, but the owners fled it during the yellow fever outbreak around that time.  San Telmo, where the mansion was, was originally one of the wealthiest neighborhoods of Buenos Aires.  But the threat of disease caused a lot of wealthy families to uproot and move to Recoleta, paving the path for that neighborhood to become the upscale home of dignitaries living and deceased. Excavations of the house also revealed a series of tunnels underneath that date to the 16th century, and which were part of the original canal system to bring water to the houses of settlers.  Some historians speculate that the original settlement of Buenos Aires--both founded and abandoned in the first half of the 16th century--started in this area, and it's possible that these canals were part of it.  Of course, this is yet another historical claim over which La Boca and San Telmo are in dispute--the Boquenses think the settlement was in their neighborhood at the mouth (boca) of the Riochuelo.  I have no real interest in getting in the middle of this fight.  So, I report, you decide, as it were.

Anyway, now I'm at a hostel in Puerto Iguazú, which is a base for a trip into the park tomorrow to see some of the world's most spectacular waterfalls.  It is in the jungle, which means that in the first ten minutes that I was outside, I got bitten by about fifty bugs.  Anyway, the hope is that I can get a visa from the Brazilian consulate, and see the Brazilian side tomorrow, and the Argentine side on Wednesday.  Whether that will pan out remains to be seen.  The park does apparently offer a great deal in terms of wildlife and natural beauty, so even if I'm "stuck" on the Argentine side, I'll be more than happy with that.  Now I just have to figure out what to do about dinner.  Preferably, it won't be a giant hunk of grilled provolone--I'm looking for some variety.

Saludos,
Seth

*River Plate gets their name from "Rioplata," the name for the region surrounding the Rio de la Plata--the river that runs between Uruguay and Argentina.  Rio de la Plata actually means "River of Silver," an optimistic name chosen by Spanish explorers who were expecting to return home with ships full of precious metals.  Therefore, "River Plate," the English term that is sometimes used to describe both the region and the soccer team (as well as Uruguayan and Paraguayan teams of the same name), is actually a mistranslation.  Although, given that the explorers never did find any silver here, it probably makes more sense.

Fotografía:

La Boca

El Zanjón

Buenos Aires

Blognos Aires

I haven't been writing much lately for two reasons. The first is that I've been a bit under the weather. I got some sort of stomach flu, which is always fun. I'm mostly better now, probably around 80-90%. Anyway, the other reason is that I haven't had a whole lot to write about. The truth is that, although I've certainly enjoyed Buenos Aires so far, it hasn't grabbed me in quite the same way that Montevideo did. I was talking with my parents last night, and trying to figure out why that was, and I think there are a few reasons.

First off, I haven't yet encountered the things about Buenos Aires that make it uniquely Buenos Aires.  Right now, most of what I've seen is more big city culture than anything else.  Obviously I love big city culture, having lived in New York for a while, but it's not as exciting a thing for me to visit.  Another thing is that I happen to be exactly halfway through a four month journey, so I've been needing a bit of a breather.  It's obviously impossible to go full-bore for that long, so I just haven't been as active here as I was in other places.  The third reason is that I think I just haven't seen the best of this town yet.  I've seen a lot of staples--Recoleta, the Casa Rosada, Puerto Madero--but I haven't yet found whatever it is about Buenos Aires that is unique, the way that Murga was in uruguay or Ometepe was in Nicaragua.  I still haven't been to La Boca, which is touristy but apparently pretty incredible, so that may well change things.  And I have some other good stuff planned for the next week, so I certainly remain optimistic.

I should add that I don't consider this a criticism of Buenos Aires.  Among other things, it strikes me as a wonderful place to live.  It's extremely cosmopolitan, and full of great food and culture.  I think the circumstances are just such that right now it's not grabbing me.  What's funny about it is that it might just be that it feels a bit too much like a South American version of home.  I've been stopped on the street for directions more times than I can count.  In part that's because, unlike in Nicaragua, there are actually locals here who look like me.  But I think in part it's because I feel pretty at home walking down a city street.  So I think that keeps me from looking like a tourist, even if I am in flip flops and carrying a backpack.

At any rate, I managed to get an excellent big city cultural experience today, when I went over to the Museo Nacional de Bellas Artes.  It was smaller than your Met or your Louvre, for sure, but still very impressive.  In particular, there was a Goya room, which featured some of his works that I've never seen before.  Goya is best known for his Black Paintings, which feature extremely dark subject matter.  One of my particular favorites is his painting of Saturn.  Anyway, it turns out that at the end of the 18th century, he did a series of prints called "Caprichos" ("Caprices"), which were almost like editorial cartoons, satirizing the lightheartedness of Spanish society.  The museum had a few prints--you can look through them here--and they were pretty captivating.  In addition to an excellent impressionist collection--Van Gogh, Monet, Manet, Degas, and Gaughuin are all on hand--there's an excellent little satirical drawing of Picasso's, entitled "Sueño y Mentira de Franco" ("Dream and Lie of Franco").  I like these all less specifically because they're satirical cartoons, and more because they're so far outside the normal realm of what we're accustomed to from these artists.  Additionally, I always find well-done political protest art to be incredibly potent.

The museum, it happens, is just across the street from Recoleta Cemetary, where I went last weekend.  This gave me another opportunity to stroll through the little market that pops up there on weekends.  The thing that I'm most struck by about the market is the range of goods.  Not in terms of just that things are different, that's not what I mean.  I mean there is a serious range, to my mind, of likelihood of someone wanting to buy a certain thing.  On the one hand, one can find beautiful handmade jewelery, lush handknit scarves, and really interesting paintings.  On the other, one can choose instead to buy miniature sculptures of mate gourds that say "Argentina" on them--the Buenos Aires equivalent of the Empire State Building pencil sharpener.  Another option is chintzy pewter dragons for high schoolers going through a goth phase.  There are also people who sell individual dreadlock extensions.  I'm not kidding.  And the thing is, the handmade goods are sold by the people who actually make them.  And they are all there at the same market.  And I sometimes wonder whether the guy who's done all of these incredible watercolors might be setting up on a Saturday morning.  And maybe the mass-produced mini-mate guy shows up a half-hour later (tell me I'm wrong) and sets up next to him.  I wonder if, at that moment, the watercolor artist just thinks, "#$&%@ you."

Anyway, given my ongoing state of illness, I'm going to head to bed.  I'm off to Iguazu National Park on Monday, at which I'm expecting a total mindblowing.  So I'll talk to you all soon.

Saludos,
Seth

Fotografía:

Buenos Aires

Ciudad de Nuestra Señora Santa María del Buen Ayre (Buenos Aires, for short)

Buenos Aires is for lovers.  Well, perhaps I should rephrase that.  Buenos Aires is for teenagers who are apparently out of sight of their parents for the first time in weeks.  Walk down any street and you're very likely to see two kids in their mid-to-late teens aggressively sucking face.  For me, the pinnacle of this phenomenon came during my trip yesterday to Recoleta Cemetery--an old historic cemetary with some truly beautiful tombs, as well as the resting place of several Argentine presidents and one extremely famous first lady.  I was walking down one of the pathways amid some intricately crafted family vaults, when I happened upon two kids, probably about 19, determining each other's tonsillar textures.  Nothing too noteworthy there.  Until I noticed that there was someone about 5 feet away from them, taking a photo.  A little strange.  I then watched as this initially-creepy-seeming photographer fellow handed the camera back to the couple.  They thanked him, he said "you're welcome," and he walked away.  It was so important to them to have an action photo of themselves that they stopped a stranger in a cemetery!  It was at precisely that moment that, for me, Argentine-teenage-lung-consolidation went from minor nuisance to minor amusement.*

Setting aside the raging hormones of its youth population, Buenos Aires definitely requires a bit of getting used to.  At 13 million people, it is the second biggest metropolitan area in South America (after Sao Paolo) and seventeenth biggest in the world (ahead of London, Beijing, and all U.S. cities other than New York and Los Angeles).  And it has all of the bustle accordant with such a ranking.  Arriving here as a tourist is a bit comparable to being dropped in midtown Manhattan and told, "ok, go."  There are so many options it can be tough to know where to start.  Moreover, the moment you hit the street, there are thousands of people walking with a purpose, and you're just another one of them.  It's almost enough (I said "almost") to make me understand why some tourists never leave Times Square.  It's certainly a significant change from Montevideo, which the orientation literature from my new school refers to with a single somewhat dismissive sentence: "Montevideo is a small, quiet city and it has a beach."

Argentinos have a bit of a reputation for arrogance, and it does seem to show up when they discuss Uruguay--although one of my teachers said they could learn a great deal from the recent successes of the Uruguayan government in enhancing the quality of life of its citizens.  The distaste, as it happens, is mutual.  A taxi driver in Montevideo told me "Argentina is a beautiful country.  It's a shame it's full of Argentinos."  The people I've met here have generally been perfectly nice, although it does seem a bit more closed off and inaccessible, as a culture.  It's probably just a city size thing, of course, but, just as an example, in Montevideo, one rides in the front of a taxi, and the drivers are always gregarious and talkative.  In Buenos Aires, when I sat down in the front seat of the first taxi I took, the driver looked annoyed, and grunted his way through the trip.  Subsequent taxistas have been more neutral, at least, but nothing close to the welcoming feel on the other side of the Rio de la Plata.

Fortunately, Buenos Aires is a fantastic walking city.  I've walked almost everywhere I've been, though the subway and bus systems are thoroughly useful as well.  But walking gives one a much better sense of the overall geography, as well as the structure and interaction of the neighborhoods.  So far, I've really just been to the most touristy areas, as evidenced by the fact that I've heard more English spoken on the street here than I've heard in quite some time.  Fortunately, as is the case in most places other than New York, the touristy areas often get to be that way by virtue of being places that are worth visiting, so I've seen some good stuff.

The layout of Buenos Aires reminds me a bit of D.C., in that it's a very orderly grid with the occasional surprising diagonal slashing through, and a number of wide-open plazas plopped in for good measure.  To further the comparison, the architecture of congress was based on the U.S. Capitol building, and it sits directly opposite the Casa Rosada (literally, "Pink House," pictured above), which houses the president's offices.

The Casa Rosada sits with its back--and its many famous balconies--facing the Plaza de Mayo, home to the one of the more tragic and compelling stories I've come across.  During the late 70's and early 80's, the Argentine government--a military dictatorship that seized power from Isabel Perón, Juan's incompetent widow--ruled with a brutally oppressive iron fist.  In what's known as La Guerra Sucia ("the Dirty War"), General Jorge Rafael Videla's regime kidnapped, tortured, and/or killed an unknown number of people, with estimates as high as 30,000.  Anyone who was suspected of dissidence was dissappeared.  Many of the Disaparecidos, as they're called, were ultimately drugged and thrown from planes over the Atlantic Ocean or the Rio de la Plata to drown.  Starting in 1977, a group of women met at the Plaza de Mayo to protest, and demand that the government account for their disappeared children.  Three of these women were, themselves, disappeared, and eventually sent on a "Death Flight" over the Atlantic.  The mothers, however, kept coming.  Although the mothers are no longer protesting the government--they announced about five years ago that they no longer had any enemies in power--they still show up to remember the crimes of their former leaders, and to call attention to the ongoing search for their grandchildren.  To this day, every Thursday, the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo (now the Grandmothers of the Plaza de Mayo) gather and keep a vigil in memory of their lost children.  I'm not sure how long it goes, but last Thursday's started at 3:30 and was still going when I walked past again at 7:15, so it clearly lasts a while. Videla, meanwhile, will spend the rest of his life in prison--though this after having been convicted and pardoned, and having his pardon subsequently deemed illegal and overturned.  I don't know if hell exists, but Videla is one of those people who makes me hope it does.

These days, Argentina's political woes are a lot more tame.  They went through a major financial crisis at the start of the 21st century, when a Peso pegged to the U.S. Dollar gave the appearance of increased wealth where there was none (sound familiar?).  They have also been hit by the recent crash, and are trying to pull their way through that now.  My buddy Matt, who I met in Montevideo, put it very well.  The Argentinos carry around this angst of having had all the potential of being a major player on the world stage, but never having achieved it.  Regionally, they're being surpassed by Brazil, and though many Americans come here for tourism now, I've had it pointed out to me more than once that Obama still hasn't been here, and that Hillary usually seems to stop at Brazil and head back.  I don't really have a lot of advice for them.  My ability to lead a nation onto the world stage has never been tested, but I doubt it would go well.  But, especially in comparison to Uruguay, which seems quite comfortable with its role in the world, Argentina does seem to have a bit of a chip on its shoulder.

That said, I'm having a lovely time here.  The city has a heartbeat that you can feel while you walk, and it's not without its share of quirks (forgot to get that sign made before getting on the subway?  No problem!), both of which are things I enjoy.  I will also add that the rumors of even-better-than-Montevideo-steak-and-ice-cream are turning out to be true.  And, unlike in Uruguay, you can even find the occasional green vegetable, along with some delicious slow food.  So, needless to say, I'm looking forward to exploring the city more in the coming weeks, and then going out and seeing what the rest of the country has to offer.

Saludos,
Seth


*It also reminded me of a Mitch Hedberg joke about the song "We Are the World," but that's another thing altogether.

Fotografía:

Buenos Aires

Recoleta Cemetery

Buenos Aires Botanic Garden

Buenos Aires Zoo Note: The Buenos Aires Zoo, as with most zoos that are not the Sonoran Desert Museum, is a particularly potent combination of totally depressing and utterly mesmerizing.  For more on Zoo science and philosophy, check out this Radiolab episode.