Buenos Aires, unedited

Walking home last night down Calle Manuel Montt in Providencia, Santiago stomach full of Chilean Mexican food and the Queen of the Night aria from Mozart’s The Magic Flute stuck in my head, I felt the giddy satisfaction you can only feel after one, long, full day preceded by one, long, crazy Argentinian weekend. I also wondered how I would fit it all into a long over due blog entry. So here goes: (Note to the faint of heart, I have made a few stylistic choices that defy gramatical conventions, also I have no English spell check on this computer)

After waking up early to finish a midterm on Friday morning I got on a subway to Santiago Airport, and then before I knew it I was heading through Argentine customs (which is way more lax than Chilean customs), and then I was in a cab heading towards el Obelisco de Buenos Aires, its long monothic self rising over the lit up and hustling city, Cristina Kirchner (or Senora K for marketing purposes) the country’s new president stared down at me from a massive billboard with heavy eye makeup and robust lips as if to say “Bienvenidos a Buenos Aires, Sé que te falta, y que debemos hacer,” and then I checked in to the 06 Central hostel in a renovated old town house right in the middle of Microcentro, then walked up Avenida Corrientes all billboards for dancing girls and high budget comedies and pizza parlors and tourists and hustlers and two twin Charlie Chaplin impersonators, Times Square of South America, and then I saw STREET TANGO, Calle Florida, and then I befriended a group of 40 Argentine orthodontia students staying in my youth hostel for a conference, they belted out Spanish tunes and played guitar, we went to a bariloche (Buenos Aires’s famed dance clubs) danced to heavy techno beats and 80s pop and Beyonce and Regaton, lots of unecessary strobe lights, too tired to stand at 4 in the morning I decided to leave while the party was still going on, my hot orthodonists friends looked shocked to see me go but this was only my first night (from my bed I heard them stumble in at 8:30 that morning), walked home avoiding the cracked up streets and muggers as best I could with Senora K’s comforting, sexy gaze keeping me safe, sleep.
And then I woke up. Cafe y medialunas (delicious, delicious croissants that go like hotcakes in BA for less than a dollar), then off to see the Pink House (their White House) and the Plaza de Mayo, Municipal Catedral of Buenos Aires, impressive, grand, old, crumbly, and I walked down Avenida de Mayo lined with blossoming trees and old historic cafes where old men in hats sip espresso and read Borges, and after failing to catch one of the three thousand city buses, so I walked in the enthusiastic spring sun of Argentina y a breeze from a river nearby to meet up with Maggie (a friend of a friend who’s now a friend) studying in Buenos Aires for the year, I also bought sunglasses for 15 pesos, she showed me around the quaint yet simultaneously upscale neighborhood, more historic cafes, and then we stumbled upon an antique car show, and then ventured into the Recoleta cemetary, a labyrinth of family mausoleums guarded by stray cats with shifty eyes, peering into any given one you could see stacks of coffins and ladders leading to dark tunnels underground, Eva Peron’s tomb and the body of a girl burried before death so her family made the mausoleum door glass so they could see if she wanted to get out…and then we went to the Recoleta fair saw crafts and hand made jewelry and and little boxes made from orange rhine, and then we saw children chanting “azul, azul, azul!” to the face of a blank canvas, and then I learned the fine art of sipping mate in the park (don’t fiddle with the bombilla, the metal straw the filters the tea leaves), and listened to some guy play guitar, also I met one of Maggie’s friends, Michelle, and the it was off to the MALBA (Museo de Arte de America Latina Buenos Aires) where I saw some freaky video art involving an Elephant and saw the best of the continent’s art from the last century and mostly just felt cool riding the glass elevator in the hip modern building, and then time for more café and medialunas to recharge, then a late dinner with Maggie and friends at this hip paradilla, or barbeque, the pride of Argentina, with a nice bottle of Malbec, sensational, we wisked away to San Telmo on the other side of the city to Maggie’s Brazillian/Peruvian friend’s super nice house, sipped beer and listend to an Incubus album with a Columbian, an El Salavadorian, a Swiss, a Dane, and a Texan, and talked about the things lost in translation, then after a slightly enebriated cab ride passing by the Pink house all lit up, I found myself in bed once more, another late night, savoring the smoky taste of Buenos Aires’s air, or maybe it was the after taste of steak.
AND THEN up again, it was Sunday in Buenos Aires and had to head to the San Telmo street fair, I passed mad funky sweet sick street art plastered on the sides of 300 year old buildings, took photos, and San Telmo was throbbing with pedestrians mulling around booths of crafts and antiques, old lady jewelry, flatted antique bottles, paintings of people dancing tango, ships in bottles, different types of mate cups y bombillas, I bought a hat and felt vaguely ridiculous, but also like a champion, saw more STREET TANGO, felt like a tourist, and headed for lunch at a random café where I had a burger and watched two old ladies sit in the sun and smoke endless cigarettes, gossipping about the neighbors, scolwing at people as they passed, and then headed to La Boca, yet another funky neighbor of Buenos Aires, Fodors: working class, colorful buildings, Boca Juniors futbol team, etc… but got lost along the way, stumbling around shady streets with unknown names, found a happening park with yet another street fair, cheaper crafts and stuff for locals, boys playing futbol and men sipping mate, dog walkers with fistfulls of leashes, finally found La Boca stadium, but grabbed a bus back to the hostel, some rest after a long walk, probably more café y medialunas, met up with Maggie and Michelle at Teatro Sarmiento to see a play (Buenos Aires has more theaters than any other city in the world I’m told), Fetiche (Fetish):6 actresss representing aspects of the same woman, a champion female body builder, Sex! Vagina! Jesus! Lip-Syncing! Transvetite strip tease! The Vagina Monologues on steriods! Pedro Almodovar on crack! wandered around the neighborhood Palermo, shishy boutiques, upscale restaurants, old streets, found a Meditaranean place Maggie had heard of, and had savory and tender lamb tagine and good wine once again.
AND THEN, suddenly, it was my last day in Buenos Aires, hurry, hurry, down to Puerto Madero, fake island of a port city, unfinished skyscappers and angular, modern, lobbies of multinacional hang tight with the strange canal and historic dikes of Buenos, and on the other side of a small concrete wall the city transforms into an ecological reserve expanding out into the distance, off the island back into the city, more towering Beux Arts buildings, Calle Florida, tried to eat lunch at a Kosher café, but a little Hasid popped his head from behind the door and in a language I couldn’t dicipher tried to tell me what was what, til finally he said in English “Come back next week,” wished I were a better Jew, got on Buenos Aires metro, called Subte, and went off towards the Palermo/Recoleta border, hopped into a old theater now bookstore, and stared up at the chandelier while holding a coffee table book of Argentine art, and touched the old lightboard backstage while sipping an espresso in the bookstore café, walked down Calle Florida, headed into Parque de Tres Febreros, sat for a minute and wondered what it all meant, then wandered into the botanical gardens, saw more stray cats with shifty eyes walking around like they owned the place, because in truth they did, sat on a bench and wondered what it all meant again looking out over the shady paths and naked marble ladies, met Maggie for a coffee and a piece of cake on the otherside of town at café Petit Paris with a view of Plaza San Martin, watched people pass by on their way to home from work and the sun disappear behind the big, pink tower, got our picture taken by stangers and with strangers, said hasta luego on the street corner after sharing Argentina’s national, novelty dessert treat the alfajor, walked back towards Calle Florida, felt the vague feeling of sadness to leave this place, Calle Florida was bumping even on a Monday night, bought a mate cup and bombilla for a friend, saw yet another performance of STREET TANGO, and a block later more STREET TANGO, decided that at some point in my life I will become a tango star and learn all the right moves in pinstripe pants and suspenders, walked to the Plaza de Congreso wearing my new hat, saw the massive edifice of Argentina’s Congress, met up with a few Stanford kids for Peruvian food, met international friends of friends, made plans to visit a girl named Sonya in Sophia, Bulgaria, had delicious Peruvian food and Stella Artois, found out the Stanford kids had the same flight as me (6am to Santiago) and were taking a latenight city bus to airport, sounded like a plan, back to hostel walking along Avenida de Mayo still chock full of café goers at midnight on Monday, wished I could join them, got my stuff at the hostel and met up again with Stanford kids at a bar, had a beer and hopped on the 86 at 2:30, two hours winding through the multitudenous barrios of Buenos Aires, the bus full old ladies, night crawlers, couples making out, and people starting the nightshift, stopping all over the place, finally at EZE airport and boarded our flight as the sun peaked , slept only to wake up to the sun reflecting off the snow capped Andes east of Santiago, home again, bus to the Metro, bus to my house, eat some kiwi my host mother had cut, said hello, and took a nap, that afternoon distinguished Bolivian author came to talk to all us Stanford kids, Edmundo Paz Soldán, talked about the new generation of Latin America, breaking out of the stereotypes of magical realism, check him out http://sololiteratura.com/edm/edmprincipal.htm , then got changes in tie and slacks, and off to the opera, at the opulent, historic Teatro Municipal de Santiago, the overture started of The Magic Flute and the stars of the set twinkled, pretty amazing opera, albeit a little tiring after a while, had a great hot dog at intermission outside the theater, crammed onto a metro, and had Mexican food with Stanford kids in our ties and nice clothes, and walked back to my house down Avenida Manuel Montt with a loose tie and untucked shirt, thinking that to be young enough not to care about getting suficient sleep and old enough to walk into a foreign city alone and unafraid is the best thing there is, to have the resources to see whole new parts of the world is unsurpassable, and that some one should figure out how to bottle the sensation I had while walking down Manuel Montt last night.

So there it is, all down, in a wild, rambling retelling. This weekend I’m heading south to Puerto Montt, Chile with a Stanford field trip. I yet again, I have reason to be thankful and take pause at the ridiculous state of my life. I hope you all are well.