Aug. 8th, 2005, 2:36 a.m.
To set - literally - the stage: I am drinking a técito suave - a nice little relaxing tea, on a stage. I'm in one of the quaintest yet most spectacular bookstore/cafe's I have ever known. It is a converted theater, with books stacked everywhere the humans used to be - in the front row seat space, in the theater boxes, on the balcony. There is a dome with a fresco in the center where a chandelier usually sits. I am sitting directly under the flies, and fernaulds (a type of stage light) are pointed down on the tables of the café, which is located on the stage. Velvet curtains block the noise and could be drawn to start the show, which is only cozy couches with people reading, I imagine, great literature and passionate stories of impossible romance. It is lovely.
Buenos Aires is a real city. I read about this bookstore in a great website online called whatsupbuenosaires, and it really exists. In other words, Bs.As. is one of those great, large cities in the world where hidden treasures in the form of a risqué art exhibit or scrumptious dessert exist - and so many of them exist that you could probably never actually discover all of them. In the same way that clubs and restaurants are always opening in New York City, Buenos Aires, it appears, has secret spots and unknown gems - the kind you only run into if you do your research. I love cities.
Speaking of doing research, I have so many observations of this place that I'm going to get right to it. Here are some of the things I have noticed about the City of Passion:
- Stylish men. Go to the microcentro, or downtown area, of Buenos Aires, and you will see a veritable army of incredibly stylish businessmen of all ages. My favorite part is their ties: the colors are somehow more brilliant here than the ties that men wear in, say, New York City. Purple, sapphire, teal, light charcoal gray, all perfectly matched to that man's coat and look. Downtown men are stylin'.
- Hot, unpretty women. Speaking of attractiveness, a general trend I have noticed in terms of the women here is that they have hot bodies but are not pretty. Nowhere is this more apparent than at a milonga (tango club), where you are often unable to see the woman's face until the end of the song, because it is buried in the man's shoulder. What you do see, though, is that she has a beautiful body - lithe but shapely, sometimes petite and sometimes not, but always what you would deem attractive. When she turns around, though, it's not pretty. Just kidding - it's not like they are ugly, just angular and somehow ... not soft. They are dramatic but not invitingly feminine.
- Traffic rules and regulations: We were in a taxi the other day, asking the driver about the actual laws on lane-changes (because it truly appears that there are none), and he goes "Rules? What rules?" This, I would say, is pretty indicative of the whole traffic culture here. Apparently vehicles, not people, have right-of-way. That is, if you cross the street and a car hits you, it's your fault. And after a few close run-ins (just kidding, Mom) I have figured out that if you are trying to cross at a crosswalk, and there is a car coming, if it winks its lights at you, it means it's going to go through the intersection - it is NOT a sign that it will stop for you. It is a sign that it will NOT stop for you.
- Dog shit: merde. It's everywhere. Everywhere. Easily as bad as Lyon. And it comes in all shapes and sizes, including, as the Lonely Planet writer has dubbed it, the "dulce de leche" variety.
- Dulce de leche: They're obsessed with it. It's the national dessert and it's on and/or in everything. On cookies, in crepes, with coffee, in cakes, in tarts, and I'm pretty sure when nobody's watching, off of freshly-dipped dulce de leche fingers, all by itself.
- Smokin': The U.S. fire marshal would have a field day with this one: you need keys to get out of the house. As in, in many houses, the door locks from the inside as well as the outside, so you literally can't get out the door without your key. Or, in our case, you can't get out the gate downstairs that leads out of our building without a key. Better hope that through all that smoke when there's a fire that you'll be able to find that little metal slab to freedom, cause otherwise, you're toast. (p.s. who thought it was a good idea to design like this!??)
- Lightswitches: I know you're going to think I'm obsessed with lightswitches, and maybe I am, but they're different here, and I don't like it. They put them right next to the outlet - as in directly next to it. So you're pushing and pressing around, trying to find which part of the white which all looks the same is the magical one that will allow you to actually SEE what you're doing in the bathroom. It's really annoying. OK. Rant over.
- Make it a double: No wonder people complain about how weak drinks are in the U.S. It's because everywhere else in the world, a Long Island contains a mere suggestion of Coke, rather than half the can. DAMN the drinks are strong here. Fuerte. Muy fuerte.
- Thirst: You know when you get a coffee or a hot chocolate and arrive at that point when you're quite thirsty but you don't want to order a whole bottled water? They solve that here by bringing you an itsy-bitsy bit of sparkling water with any hot drink. It's a shot glass of Perrier, and it's great.
- They queue for buses: That's right, they stand in line to take the bus. What? They don't even usually do that in ENGLAND, where the queue was born.
- Cheap hair: There are roughly one hundred thousand hair salons in Bs.As. and they all offer cuts for around 7pesos ($2.50), which to me is incredible. I guess it's all how you look at it - in the States we consider a haircut to be somewhat of a luxury - or at least, it is something that we pay money for because we assume that the person is a skilled worker. I paid $60 in NYC for a haircut (granted, it was the best haircut of my life), and while I considered that pricey, it was not out of the question. I'm pretty sure a porteño would laugh in your face if you said you paid 60pesos for a cut here.
My favorite parts of Emily's latest mass e-mail:
"~~~~Argentinean style~~~~
Walking down the street in Argentina is sort of like being stuck in a
time warp of about 15 years. Converse shoes are back in. Black and
white layers (polka dots and puffy sleeves included) and ripped
collars are back. Mullets, jean jackets and Mohawks are back. A
chain coming out of your pocket down your sagging pants is back. MC
Hammer pants aren't, but other than that it's like being in the late
80s, early 90's. I suppose the only question is, who is ahead of who?
Will they look like us in 15 years, or will we look like them?
~~~~~The widest waterfall in the world~~~~~
At the end of my first week here we traveled to Puerto Iguazú via an
18 hour (one way) bus ride. Iguazú Falls, about 30 minutes outside of
Puerto Iguazú is the widest waterfall in the world, stretching for
over a mile at the border between Argentina and Brazil. From about a
mile away, it looks as if there's a massive forest fire, until you
realize that it's not smoke in the sky but a billowing, yet permanent
cloud of mist from the crashing of millions of gallons of water every
second. We took a powerboat upstream toward the bottom of the falls
and into the misty downfall. When we got out of the boat we were
soaked from head to toe, despite having worn ponchos. When you're on
the water, the falls come down around you in a 180-degree panorama,
and even at what seems to be the edge of the 180 degree half circle,
you know that the falls just continue behind it. They've made the
falls themselves into a waterfall disneyland of sorts, building
catwalks literally above the cliffs from which the water falls, so you
can stand looking down at the water cascading directly below you. How
they ever got these catwalks in place, I have no idea, but it is
breathtaking (and once again, soaking).
Though many of you have been on my travel email list for a few years,
through Bangladesh, Chile, and Mexico, this trip is somehow harder to
write about. It's different, because I'm realizing that my real
purpose for being here isn't to immerse myself in another culture,
master another language, try out a new job, or assimilate into a new
family. With the girls here, I really do meet less locals, speak less
Spanish, and feel less like I am in a foreign country. At first I was
surprised and a little disappointed that things didn't seem so
radically different, that I couldn't write an email home every two
days with lists of colors, sights, smells, and customs that were
different. But more and more, I'm realizing that I might learn as
much on this trip as on any other, about living with friends, about
explicit memory making, and the glee and the challenge of waking up in
the morning an saying, "I could go to Uruguay today, I could take a
tango class, or I could do nothing... hmmm....""
Language spot:
- on menu: "Salmon with mushed potatoes."
- sign in airport: "Forgive the nuisances." (meant to be "Pardon the inconvenience"
- A very upscale store selling men's business clothing was called "Flamers."
- In BCN there was a store selling children's clothing called "Groin."
- dicen "boliche" en vez de "discoteca"
- sí dicen "echar un polvo", pero
- en vez de "estoy hecho polvo", dicen "estoy detonada."
- ya sabes que se usa "vos" acá, pero actualmente me di cuente de que tambien el imperativo se cambia con vos: es "hablá con ella," y "vení acá"
- most definitely, they do not say "movíl". They say "celular" and almost don't understand when you say movil.
Quotes of the day: (ok, past few weeks is more like it)
"El hambre viene, el hombre se va." - Manu Chao
"I am an observant person and the world is so interesting." - Emily
"Great album: Most of the Rest of Us, by The Overqualified Interns." - me and Beth
Someone: "How do you say 'refill'?"
Jeanette: "Más."
Someone: "How do you say 'hangover'?"
Jeanette: "Dolor."
From the movie Hitch:
"Life isn't about the number of breaths you take; it's about the moments that take your breath away."
"Faith is the antithesis of proof."
"You're a cynic masquerading as a realist hiding the optimist underneath."
Guess the movie:
Him: "Does he make you laugh?"
Her: "He doesn't make me cry."
