Gentle Readers,
Thank you for following the Yids Vicious during our Argentina travel adventures. It turns out our new web site has its own built-in blogging function, so all future dispatches (travel and otherwise) may be found at www.yidvicious.com. Our next voyage takes us to exotic Eau Claire, Wisconsin! In the meantime, Purim preparations are in full swing.
Friday, February 19, 2010
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Guest Blogger: Fiona!
Thursday, November 5, 2009
We did all our last minute packing and left the house only a half hour later than planned. We drove for a really long time and finally we got to Chicago. We dropped off the car at Pride Parking and went to the airport. We did all the airport crap and got on the plane to D.C. When we got to D.C. we got off the plane and waited and waited and waited. Finally we got on a plane to B.A.
Friday, November 6, 2009
Woke up on the plane and had only like an hour more plane ride. When we landed we got off the plane and did all the rest of the airport crap. We met Lenka (another performer at the festival) and Rubin (her husband). Then we found Silvia (the person who was supposed to pick us up) and drove to the hotel. When we got there we found out that it was the wrong hotel and that it was the other Bauen Hotel. So we went to the right hotel and set down our stuff. Mommy was talking to the hotel people and daddy went to get more stuff. When we were checked in we started to go upstairs when we realized that Papa’s computer was gone. They went through that whole thing then we finally went to our room and went to bed. Later we went to breakfast downstairs with the rest of the band. We met Bo and Federico. Later at night the whole band took a walk to the Obelisk. On the way back we ate at a restaurant. When we got back to the hotel the grown ups went out and me and Mairead went to bed.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
We woke up, got dressed, and went down to the lobby. We walked down the street and around the corner looking for a cafe to eat breakfast. We found one there. It looked good so we went in. We sat down at a table and I noticed how it was different from cafes in Madison. The door was wide open and it looked like they only closed it when they closed for the day. The tables had three sets of table cloths (all different colors) and the tables were covered in crumbs like they washed only once a day. The waiter came and gave us menus. I picked mine up and opened it. I looked and it was totally all in Spanish! I couldn’t read a thing! [Remember this was at the beginning of the trip, so I didn’t know any Spanish.] Thankfully Daddy knew a little Spanish and could read a little. So we finally ordered what we thought was some sort of omelet like things and orange juice. It was, so that was good. The orange juice was unbelievable! They squeezed the oranges right there! After we ate, they brought us our bill. We paid in pesos (Argentinian money) and Mommy gave me two pesos of the change for no reason. It looked weird. Then we went back to the hotel. A few hours later we walked down the street, wandering from shop to shop trying stuff on, looking in shop windows and taking pictures. Daddy tried on a suit, Mairead tried on shoes. We stopped in a bakery and bought some sweet treats. Then Daddy remembered that he had to get back so he could take a shower and get ready for the opening concert. So he hurried back and we came back a little slower. When we got back the bus was leaving. [Apparently they had to leave a lot sooner than they said.] We weren’t ready so Nick (Silvia’s sister’s husband) offered to drive us there in 20 minutes or so. We went upstairs and got ready. Then we went down to the lobby to meet Nick. When we got there with Nick was his kid William. We got in the car and he drove us to the concert getting lost on the way. When we got there we went and got ice cream. Then we came back and played in the courtyard. Then the dignitaries went blah blah. Then they played the concert. We met the Danes. Later we went to the restaurant called La Estancia for steak. We stayed up until 3:30am and on the way back home we got ice cream.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
We slept in late. When we got up we went on the subway to Plaza de Mayo. We fed pigeons and then started walking down the street. We bought orange juice and Mairead tried on a hat. The feria (street fair) went on for blocks and blocks. Mairead and I each bought bobbleheads. After awhile we stopped at a cafe and had breakfast. We walked for a long time and then we got to San Telmo and there were people tangoing. We watched for like an hour or so. Then two people came and did a performance. The woman was wearing a red tango dress that was really pretty and she was from California and was really good. The man was wearing all black and he was even better than the woman (if possible). Together they were amazing. Afterward we walked to the nearest subway station and took the subway home. Later we ate at Suipacha and celebrated Mommy’s B-day because hers sucked.
Monday, November 9, 2009
We tried to go to the suit store and failed. We did dry cleaning, laundry, and got Daddy fitted for his glasses (his were in the computer bag that got stolen). We went to the Black Cat Cafe (El Gato Negro) and wrote post cards. Later we went to Chiquilin with Melissa. The grown ups were drinking. Afterward there was a party and the hotel called to tell us to shut up.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
The Obelisk concert was canceled. We got Papa a suit. Mommy, Mairead and I stayed at the hotel and I read my book. Later we went to supper at Broccolino with Melissa. On the way back we stopped at a concert and I got a Pressburger band CD (from Slovakia). Then we went to bed.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Tried to go to Uruguay. Failed. Tried to go to the crazy Jesus Park. Failed. Walked along the river (Rio Plate) for hours. Found a wild passion flower, saw a parrot, went to the place where rich people keep their boats, annoyed some random people having tea. Got a taxi and went to Palermo. Went to a cafe place and tried Mate. Melissa called her husband Matt and cried. Kia drank a lot. Grown ups drank Pinguinos (penguins) of wine. Went to a crowded restaurant (Cervantes II) around the corner from the hotel and got gross lasagna with ham. For dessert I got a gross baked apple and Mairead wanted pancakes for breakfast so we got gross caramel (dulce de leche) with a tiny bit of crepe mixed in to go. We went to bed.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Mairead, Mommy and I went to Florida Street. Mommy got her boots shined and we got ice cream. We went to Decime Tortuga and got skirts for me and Lisa. We got a taxi and tried to go to the Eva Peron amphitheater but the taxi driver didn’t know where it was. Finally we got there but he dropped us off at the wrong end of the park. Mommy was scared. She asked some ladies how to get there. They spoke English and told us to go around the park. Mommy walked as fast as she could. When we were almost there Mairead said, “I gotta stop or I’ll barf.” So we stopped for a minute. When we got there we were late so there were only one or two songs left. After they were done we went to La Boca and watched the Tango Show and I hurt my butt playing on the train car thingy. Afterward we went home to bed.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Lunch at Suipacha (the free restaurant—for all the bands). Subway to Neverland kiddie amusement park at the Abasto mall place. It was raining. Tried to go home but the subway was flooded and every single taxi for miles around had people in it. So we had to walk all the way to the suit store (which was at least 1000 miles away). Finally we got there and picked up Papa’s suit. There they told us where to get a taxi—so finally we got a taxi and went back to the hotel. Later Papa got his new glasses.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Sorry can’t write everything.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
We slept for a verrrry long time. We ate at Chiquilin for lunch. We took the train to Tigre. It was my first train ride ever. There were a ton of people snogging. It was disgusting. When we got to Tigre we couldn’t find the right place so by the time we got there it was closed so we tried to go to the amusement park but you had to buy tickets 2 hours earlier so we couldn’t go in. By that time we only had time to come back, have a snack, and get back on the train. Then we got home and went to bed.
Monday, November 16, 2009
We packed and checked out of the hotel. We went to Florida Street with Matt, Dave, Kia, and Geoff. We went to a really fancy cafe called Richmond for lunch. Me, Daddy, and Mairead went on a two and a half hour bus tour. We went to a place called Buller Brewpub with the whole band and Nick. Mairead and I walked around with Anna. We went back to the hotel and got our luggage. We all packed into a van and drove to the bus station. We waited awhile and got on the bus. It was the SUCK BUS! Because it sucked! Slept.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Woke up on the suck bus. We got to the bus station. We got off and all piled into another van. We drove to the hostel. We unloaded and listened to a lecture on what to do and not to do at the hostel. We got our room and unpacked all our junk. Mommy made me and Mairead take showers because the bus was so gross. We went to breakfast at a cafe across the street. Me and Mairead ordered jugo de naranja (fresh squeezed OJ) and media lunas (croissants). Later there was an outdoor concert and there was a really cool fountain. Afterward we went to a restaurant and me and Mairead fell asleep.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
I slept. We went to the cafe across the street. We ate lunch at a weird place that only served meat. I personally thought it was disgusting. We walked around the city. Daddy got our bus tickets. The concert was canceled. We hung out at the hostel. Later we went to a restaurant with a big fountain and me, Mairead, and Bo lit floating candles in the fountain.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
We met up with our friend’s parents, Felix and Susana. They took us on a driving tour of Cordoba and to lunch. Afterward we went to the zoo. I thought it was awesome. We went to a museum. It was creepy. Later we went to the bus station and got on the good bus.
Friday, November 20, 2009
We woke up on the nice bus! We got to the bus station and we got off. Yid Vicious went to the radio station to be on the radio. Me, Mommy, Mairead, and the Danes went to the hotel. We unloaded and got our rooms. I practiced violin while Mommy took a shower. Afterward I went swimming. It was fun. Daddy got back. We ate lunch. Later there was a concert at a really cool park. Mairead and I played our violins on stage with the Danes (Mames Babegenush). Afterward Bo sprained his ankle. I carried Kia’s accordion all the way up the hill and to the van. Then I went to bed.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
We went on a bus tour to the Andes. It was amazing!!!!!
Sunday, November 22, 2009
We went on a wine and olive oil tour. The wine was disgusting though I didn’t try it. Mairead tasted the wine and she thought it was OK. I liked the olive oil. Afterward I went swimming with Mairead and Lukas and Andreas. Later we went to the last concert. Mairead and I played with everybody on the last song (Alle Brider). Mairead’s sound post fell down. Afterward we went to a restaurant with everybody.
Monday, November 23, 2009
17 ½ hour bus ride on a sucky daytime bus that didn’t serve any food. When we got to B.A. we went to Mommy’s favorite restaurant in the world with the whole band (except not Mommy and Mairead).
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Last day. We checked out of the hotel, did laundry and went to Chiquilin. Afterward we went to La Boca and met Nick. Then we went with Nick to a park to eat ice cream and play with William, Rosio, Nico, and Daniel. Then we had to say good bye and go back to the hotel. When we got to the hotel we picked up our stuff and went to the airport. We did all the airport crap and got on the plane.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Then after 10 hours in the plane we were back in the U.S.
We did all our last minute packing and left the house only a half hour later than planned. We drove for a really long time and finally we got to Chicago. We dropped off the car at Pride Parking and went to the airport. We did all the airport crap and got on the plane to D.C. When we got to D.C. we got off the plane and waited and waited and waited. Finally we got on a plane to B.A.
Friday, November 6, 2009
Woke up on the plane and had only like an hour more plane ride. When we landed we got off the plane and did all the rest of the airport crap. We met Lenka (another performer at the festival) and Rubin (her husband). Then we found Silvia (the person who was supposed to pick us up) and drove to the hotel. When we got there we found out that it was the wrong hotel and that it was the other Bauen Hotel. So we went to the right hotel and set down our stuff. Mommy was talking to the hotel people and daddy went to get more stuff. When we were checked in we started to go upstairs when we realized that Papa’s computer was gone. They went through that whole thing then we finally went to our room and went to bed. Later we went to breakfast downstairs with the rest of the band. We met Bo and Federico. Later at night the whole band took a walk to the Obelisk. On the way back we ate at a restaurant. When we got back to the hotel the grown ups went out and me and Mairead went to bed.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
We woke up, got dressed, and went down to the lobby. We walked down the street and around the corner looking for a cafe to eat breakfast. We found one there. It looked good so we went in. We sat down at a table and I noticed how it was different from cafes in Madison. The door was wide open and it looked like they only closed it when they closed for the day. The tables had three sets of table cloths (all different colors) and the tables were covered in crumbs like they washed only once a day. The waiter came and gave us menus. I picked mine up and opened it. I looked and it was totally all in Spanish! I couldn’t read a thing! [Remember this was at the beginning of the trip, so I didn’t know any Spanish.] Thankfully Daddy knew a little Spanish and could read a little. So we finally ordered what we thought was some sort of omelet like things and orange juice. It was, so that was good. The orange juice was unbelievable! They squeezed the oranges right there! After we ate, they brought us our bill. We paid in pesos (Argentinian money) and Mommy gave me two pesos of the change for no reason. It looked weird. Then we went back to the hotel. A few hours later we walked down the street, wandering from shop to shop trying stuff on, looking in shop windows and taking pictures. Daddy tried on a suit, Mairead tried on shoes. We stopped in a bakery and bought some sweet treats. Then Daddy remembered that he had to get back so he could take a shower and get ready for the opening concert. So he hurried back and we came back a little slower. When we got back the bus was leaving. [Apparently they had to leave a lot sooner than they said.] We weren’t ready so Nick (Silvia’s sister’s husband) offered to drive us there in 20 minutes or so. We went upstairs and got ready. Then we went down to the lobby to meet Nick. When we got there with Nick was his kid William. We got in the car and he drove us to the concert getting lost on the way. When we got there we went and got ice cream. Then we came back and played in the courtyard. Then the dignitaries went blah blah. Then they played the concert. We met the Danes. Later we went to the restaurant called La Estancia for steak. We stayed up until 3:30am and on the way back home we got ice cream.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
We slept in late. When we got up we went on the subway to Plaza de Mayo. We fed pigeons and then started walking down the street. We bought orange juice and Mairead tried on a hat. The feria (street fair) went on for blocks and blocks. Mairead and I each bought bobbleheads. After awhile we stopped at a cafe and had breakfast. We walked for a long time and then we got to San Telmo and there were people tangoing. We watched for like an hour or so. Then two people came and did a performance. The woman was wearing a red tango dress that was really pretty and she was from California and was really good. The man was wearing all black and he was even better than the woman (if possible). Together they were amazing. Afterward we walked to the nearest subway station and took the subway home. Later we ate at Suipacha and celebrated Mommy’s B-day because hers sucked.
Monday, November 9, 2009
We tried to go to the suit store and failed. We did dry cleaning, laundry, and got Daddy fitted for his glasses (his were in the computer bag that got stolen). We went to the Black Cat Cafe (El Gato Negro) and wrote post cards. Later we went to Chiquilin with Melissa. The grown ups were drinking. Afterward there was a party and the hotel called to tell us to shut up.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
The Obelisk concert was canceled. We got Papa a suit. Mommy, Mairead and I stayed at the hotel and I read my book. Later we went to supper at Broccolino with Melissa. On the way back we stopped at a concert and I got a Pressburger band CD (from Slovakia). Then we went to bed.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Tried to go to Uruguay. Failed. Tried to go to the crazy Jesus Park. Failed. Walked along the river (Rio Plate) for hours. Found a wild passion flower, saw a parrot, went to the place where rich people keep their boats, annoyed some random people having tea. Got a taxi and went to Palermo. Went to a cafe place and tried Mate. Melissa called her husband Matt and cried. Kia drank a lot. Grown ups drank Pinguinos (penguins) of wine. Went to a crowded restaurant (Cervantes II) around the corner from the hotel and got gross lasagna with ham. For dessert I got a gross baked apple and Mairead wanted pancakes for breakfast so we got gross caramel (dulce de leche) with a tiny bit of crepe mixed in to go. We went to bed.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Mairead, Mommy and I went to Florida Street. Mommy got her boots shined and we got ice cream. We went to Decime Tortuga and got skirts for me and Lisa. We got a taxi and tried to go to the Eva Peron amphitheater but the taxi driver didn’t know where it was. Finally we got there but he dropped us off at the wrong end of the park. Mommy was scared. She asked some ladies how to get there. They spoke English and told us to go around the park. Mommy walked as fast as she could. When we were almost there Mairead said, “I gotta stop or I’ll barf.” So we stopped for a minute. When we got there we were late so there were only one or two songs left. After they were done we went to La Boca and watched the Tango Show and I hurt my butt playing on the train car thingy. Afterward we went home to bed.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Lunch at Suipacha (the free restaurant—for all the bands). Subway to Neverland kiddie amusement park at the Abasto mall place. It was raining. Tried to go home but the subway was flooded and every single taxi for miles around had people in it. So we had to walk all the way to the suit store (which was at least 1000 miles away). Finally we got there and picked up Papa’s suit. There they told us where to get a taxi—so finally we got a taxi and went back to the hotel. Later Papa got his new glasses.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Sorry can’t write everything.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
We slept for a verrrry long time. We ate at Chiquilin for lunch. We took the train to Tigre. It was my first train ride ever. There were a ton of people snogging. It was disgusting. When we got to Tigre we couldn’t find the right place so by the time we got there it was closed so we tried to go to the amusement park but you had to buy tickets 2 hours earlier so we couldn’t go in. By that time we only had time to come back, have a snack, and get back on the train. Then we got home and went to bed.
Monday, November 16, 2009
We packed and checked out of the hotel. We went to Florida Street with Matt, Dave, Kia, and Geoff. We went to a really fancy cafe called Richmond for lunch. Me, Daddy, and Mairead went on a two and a half hour bus tour. We went to a place called Buller Brewpub with the whole band and Nick. Mairead and I walked around with Anna. We went back to the hotel and got our luggage. We all packed into a van and drove to the bus station. We waited awhile and got on the bus. It was the SUCK BUS! Because it sucked! Slept.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Woke up on the suck bus. We got to the bus station. We got off and all piled into another van. We drove to the hostel. We unloaded and listened to a lecture on what to do and not to do at the hostel. We got our room and unpacked all our junk. Mommy made me and Mairead take showers because the bus was so gross. We went to breakfast at a cafe across the street. Me and Mairead ordered jugo de naranja (fresh squeezed OJ) and media lunas (croissants). Later there was an outdoor concert and there was a really cool fountain. Afterward we went to a restaurant and me and Mairead fell asleep.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
I slept. We went to the cafe across the street. We ate lunch at a weird place that only served meat. I personally thought it was disgusting. We walked around the city. Daddy got our bus tickets. The concert was canceled. We hung out at the hostel. Later we went to a restaurant with a big fountain and me, Mairead, and Bo lit floating candles in the fountain.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
We met up with our friend’s parents, Felix and Susana. They took us on a driving tour of Cordoba and to lunch. Afterward we went to the zoo. I thought it was awesome. We went to a museum. It was creepy. Later we went to the bus station and got on the good bus.
Friday, November 20, 2009
We woke up on the nice bus! We got to the bus station and we got off. Yid Vicious went to the radio station to be on the radio. Me, Mommy, Mairead, and the Danes went to the hotel. We unloaded and got our rooms. I practiced violin while Mommy took a shower. Afterward I went swimming. It was fun. Daddy got back. We ate lunch. Later there was a concert at a really cool park. Mairead and I played our violins on stage with the Danes (Mames Babegenush). Afterward Bo sprained his ankle. I carried Kia’s accordion all the way up the hill and to the van. Then I went to bed.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
We went on a bus tour to the Andes. It was amazing!!!!!
Sunday, November 22, 2009
We went on a wine and olive oil tour. The wine was disgusting though I didn’t try it. Mairead tasted the wine and she thought it was OK. I liked the olive oil. Afterward I went swimming with Mairead and Lukas and Andreas. Later we went to the last concert. Mairead and I played with everybody on the last song (Alle Brider). Mairead’s sound post fell down. Afterward we went to a restaurant with everybody.
Monday, November 23, 2009
17 ½ hour bus ride on a sucky daytime bus that didn’t serve any food. When we got to B.A. we went to Mommy’s favorite restaurant in the world with the whole band (except not Mommy and Mairead).
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Last day. We checked out of the hotel, did laundry and went to Chiquilin. Afterward we went to La Boca and met Nick. Then we went with Nick to a park to eat ice cream and play with William, Rosio, Nico, and Daniel. Then we had to say good bye and go back to the hotel. When we got to the hotel we picked up our stuff and went to the airport. We did all the airport crap and got on the plane.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Then after 10 hours in the plane we were back in the U.S.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Video Post from Kia
Operating as a collective, Yid Vicious requires each of its members to share the load. That, or someone somehow got stuck with ALL of the instruments being stored in his/her hotel room. Plus: Fiona rocks!
Friday, November 27, 2009
Some Final Bit of Ruminating
November 25, 4:50 AM
Leaving Argentina
We’re in the air, probably above the Atlantic Ocean at this point. We’re headed home, back to houses, dwellings, loved-ones, cats and the familiarity of the day-to-day. Will we miss Buenos Aires? Yes, yes, yes; yes we will. BA has all the magical properties of a great city where you feel like anything is possible.
How can you really describe Buenos Aries? I can’t, except to say that it’s an enchanting place that combines old-world elegance with Latin American grit, a place with an incredibly complicated history that we won’t try to begin unraveling here. Each Argentine we’ve met has been extremely kind, open and sincere with an awesome sense of humor. It’s a city for walking, being and hanging around, everything always on a human scale. Everyone had a wonderful time.
Given all this, what to make of the graffiti I noticed on the side of a building during the autobus ride out of town? I took no photo, so I’ll describe it to the best of my ability. It had been made from a stencil. The image contained three elements: an outline of a person as seen from the right side, the person’s arms extended in front; a garbage can beneath where his hands were; and finally, above the garbage can and slightly below the hands as though being dropped into the can, a Star of David. None too subtle.
I noticed this little hate-o-gram, as I say, from the bus. I think I was the only one to see it. We were all laughing, joking, happy that we were all still on speaking terms after three weeks and a whole lot of bus. I didn’t point it out to anyone because I didn’t want to sour their mood like it had mine. I was saddened but not entirely surprised. After all, Argentina, magic land of tangos, parillos and cab drivers with supernatural powers, had given safe haven to a bunch of Nazis after World War Two. And of course there are always plenty of Christians around who can’t get over that whole “Jews killed our Messiah” narrative. And there are always plenty of plain, regular assholes who automatically hate whoever isn’t like them. There are something like thirteen million people living in and around BA. To expect all of them to be nice people would be kind of a stretch.
As much as I loved Buenos Aires, I have to confess to having found it a little exhausting. I spent much of our visit trying to wrap my brain around all the dynamics of history, colonialism, economics, politics and social upheaval that in various ways had formed the Argentine character, if such a thing exists. Since I don’t know a lot about the history of Argentina, my perspective tended to be colored by what little I do know, ie the military dictatorship circa 1976, remnants of which always seemed to pop up out of nowhere and contrast wildly with the bright good times we were having. Once we were standing around chatting on a (mostly) pedestrian street following a (cancelled) concert when an old, old man shuffling by, noticed us, no doubt was immediately aware of our Americanness, and stopped and stood about ten feet away, scowling toward us with the angriest, most evil scowl I’ve ever seen, for what seemed like an hour. As though he had strong personal reasons for hating Americans, which lots of Argentines surely do. Other reminders of the bad times among the enchantment of the city: the big obelisk in the middle of town, not far from our hotel, against which some of the first “dissidents” were stood up and shot when the generals took over; the ubiquitous Ford Falcons, which the Ford Motor Company, one of the corporate beneficiaries of the coup, had supplied to the federal police and which were used, among other things, for rounding up leftists; the Rio de la Plata, into which many of the bodies were dumped. Walking around the city, it was sometimes hard not to think of state-sponsored terror, hard not to wonder how people dealt with it, how they’re still dealing with its aftermath, perhaps dreading its recurrence.
And now the last thing I see before leaving the city is…anti-Semitism. The fact that it was made from a stencil and not just crudely spraypainted makes it seem extra sinister. Maybe there was more than one person involved, the maker of the stencil plus his minions, or maybe there was just one guy and he wanted to make it as fast and easy as possible to spread the most hate over the biggest area. Either way, I begin to realize that I’m dealing with this in a rather naïve and self-centered manner. Argentina is, after all, a country, and one of the unfortunate things about countries is that some of its citizens tend not to get along. Of COURSE there’s darkness in Argentina’s past and present, just like there is in the US, in France, Mexico, Russia, Nigeria, South Africa, India, etc. And, was I more disturbed by the actual hate message or by the fact that it was ruining my good time? Am I really that incredibly spoiled? Probably, but one thing I can say with certainty is: fuck that stencil guy; fuck all those stencil guys. After briefly wondering at the origin of the stencil, I thought about the other people in the van sitting next to me and how incredibly proud I am to be one of them. I remembered all the musicians we’ve met on this trip, all the wonderful, kind people who love playing music and revel in the community it creates, in its positive energy. And I thought: Give it up, Stencil Guy, because you’re not going to win. Our side is better, smarter, more fun, more numerous, swings harder, and by the way, fuck you, Stencil Guy.
And so, Dear Reader, as we say our farewell to the Southern Cone and all it’s magic and madness, my brain continues to spin, not only attempting to unravel the mysteries and complexity of this place, but the make-up of my own character as well. And that’s why we travel.
Leaving Argentina
We’re in the air, probably above the Atlantic Ocean at this point. We’re headed home, back to houses, dwellings, loved-ones, cats and the familiarity of the day-to-day. Will we miss Buenos Aires? Yes, yes, yes; yes we will. BA has all the magical properties of a great city where you feel like anything is possible.
How can you really describe Buenos Aries? I can’t, except to say that it’s an enchanting place that combines old-world elegance with Latin American grit, a place with an incredibly complicated history that we won’t try to begin unraveling here. Each Argentine we’ve met has been extremely kind, open and sincere with an awesome sense of humor. It’s a city for walking, being and hanging around, everything always on a human scale. Everyone had a wonderful time.
Given all this, what to make of the graffiti I noticed on the side of a building during the autobus ride out of town? I took no photo, so I’ll describe it to the best of my ability. It had been made from a stencil. The image contained three elements: an outline of a person as seen from the right side, the person’s arms extended in front; a garbage can beneath where his hands were; and finally, above the garbage can and slightly below the hands as though being dropped into the can, a Star of David. None too subtle.
I noticed this little hate-o-gram, as I say, from the bus. I think I was the only one to see it. We were all laughing, joking, happy that we were all still on speaking terms after three weeks and a whole lot of bus. I didn’t point it out to anyone because I didn’t want to sour their mood like it had mine. I was saddened but not entirely surprised. After all, Argentina, magic land of tangos, parillos and cab drivers with supernatural powers, had given safe haven to a bunch of Nazis after World War Two. And of course there are always plenty of Christians around who can’t get over that whole “Jews killed our Messiah” narrative. And there are always plenty of plain, regular assholes who automatically hate whoever isn’t like them. There are something like thirteen million people living in and around BA. To expect all of them to be nice people would be kind of a stretch.
As much as I loved Buenos Aires, I have to confess to having found it a little exhausting. I spent much of our visit trying to wrap my brain around all the dynamics of history, colonialism, economics, politics and social upheaval that in various ways had formed the Argentine character, if such a thing exists. Since I don’t know a lot about the history of Argentina, my perspective tended to be colored by what little I do know, ie the military dictatorship circa 1976, remnants of which always seemed to pop up out of nowhere and contrast wildly with the bright good times we were having. Once we were standing around chatting on a (mostly) pedestrian street following a (cancelled) concert when an old, old man shuffling by, noticed us, no doubt was immediately aware of our Americanness, and stopped and stood about ten feet away, scowling toward us with the angriest, most evil scowl I’ve ever seen, for what seemed like an hour. As though he had strong personal reasons for hating Americans, which lots of Argentines surely do. Other reminders of the bad times among the enchantment of the city: the big obelisk in the middle of town, not far from our hotel, against which some of the first “dissidents” were stood up and shot when the generals took over; the ubiquitous Ford Falcons, which the Ford Motor Company, one of the corporate beneficiaries of the coup, had supplied to the federal police and which were used, among other things, for rounding up leftists; the Rio de la Plata, into which many of the bodies were dumped. Walking around the city, it was sometimes hard not to think of state-sponsored terror, hard not to wonder how people dealt with it, how they’re still dealing with its aftermath, perhaps dreading its recurrence.
And now the last thing I see before leaving the city is…anti-Semitism. The fact that it was made from a stencil and not just crudely spraypainted makes it seem extra sinister. Maybe there was more than one person involved, the maker of the stencil plus his minions, or maybe there was just one guy and he wanted to make it as fast and easy as possible to spread the most hate over the biggest area. Either way, I begin to realize that I’m dealing with this in a rather naïve and self-centered manner. Argentina is, after all, a country, and one of the unfortunate things about countries is that some of its citizens tend not to get along. Of COURSE there’s darkness in Argentina’s past and present, just like there is in the US, in France, Mexico, Russia, Nigeria, South Africa, India, etc. And, was I more disturbed by the actual hate message or by the fact that it was ruining my good time? Am I really that incredibly spoiled? Probably, but one thing I can say with certainty is: fuck that stencil guy; fuck all those stencil guys. After briefly wondering at the origin of the stencil, I thought about the other people in the van sitting next to me and how incredibly proud I am to be one of them. I remembered all the musicians we’ve met on this trip, all the wonderful, kind people who love playing music and revel in the community it creates, in its positive energy. And I thought: Give it up, Stencil Guy, because you’re not going to win. Our side is better, smarter, more fun, more numerous, swings harder, and by the way, fuck you, Stencil Guy.
And so, Dear Reader, as we say our farewell to the Southern Cone and all it’s magic and madness, my brain continues to spin, not only attempting to unravel the mysteries and complexity of this place, but the make-up of my own character as well. And that’s why we travel.
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Guest Blogger: Anna Purnell
THE LEAGUE OF SKETCHY WELDING AND OTHER ARGENTINIAN DELIGHTS
Hello all,
Before I commence with this last post from Buenos Aires, I want to make clear how very, very much I love and revere not just this city and the portenos, but the whole country. Even the grinding ache of missing my kids (who were having a great time with their dad and his wife), could not make a dent in complete and utter adoration I have for this place.
Being here has led me many times to reflect upon how we do things in the U.S., and how bizarre and hilarious they must appear to people from other countries. It's also led me to engage in a protracted and vigorous effort to not bring shame upon myself and my friends through dissolving into hysterical laughter at some of the things that are uniquely Argentine. Case in point: The League of Sketchy Welding.
Argentinians love their country. They are proud of it. They go out of their way to assist foreigners in finding their way to the things that are most beautiful, tasty, interesting, historic and delightful here.
At the same time, they are also really happy to trash up wherever they are like a heavy metal band in a Motel 6 honeymoon suite. Garbage? Throw it on the ground. Dog detritus? For heaven's sake, don't pick it up. Broken glass? Oh well, everything comes to an end. And so on. This is particularly evident in Buenos Aires, but it's kind of the norm in the other cities we visited too. Eventually, somebody comes along and picks up some of the trash, but there will still be car-sized, random piles of what looks like the innards of an entire apartment, or the closeout sale from a box factory.
This “Why Not” sort of approach to civic cleanliness reaches its acme in what appears –at least to somebody from the U.S.- to be Argentinians' extremely cavalier attitude towards personal safety. As I write this, I gaze upwards from the hotel's trashed and lovely courtyard into a thicket of randomly strung electrical wires (see picture above). Are some of these tangled filaments live? Who knows? Will we be electrocuted? Why not?
My very favorite manifestation of this attitude involves people welding things on city streets. Every day, literally, I encountered teams of two or three guys (never women) welding something to something. Usually one or more of them were teetering on a ladder or crouched in the middle of a pedestrian walkway.
Always, the welding device was attached to a power source via an intricate network of aging extension cords, all of which would be made whole by generous swaths of frayed duct tape. Sparks shower down on passersby and up into the face of the welder (who, of course, would bring shame upon himself if he wore a welder's mask or protective garments). Generally, he's also smoking a cigarette and carrying on a conversation while he's bent to his task.
Hello all,
Before I commence with this last post from Buenos Aires, I want to make clear how very, very much I love and revere not just this city and the portenos, but the whole country. Even the grinding ache of missing my kids (who were having a great time with their dad and his wife), could not make a dent in complete and utter adoration I have for this place.
Being here has led me many times to reflect upon how we do things in the U.S., and how bizarre and hilarious they must appear to people from other countries. It's also led me to engage in a protracted and vigorous effort to not bring shame upon myself and my friends through dissolving into hysterical laughter at some of the things that are uniquely Argentine. Case in point: The League of Sketchy Welding.
Argentinians love their country. They are proud of it. They go out of their way to assist foreigners in finding their way to the things that are most beautiful, tasty, interesting, historic and delightful here.
At the same time, they are also really happy to trash up wherever they are like a heavy metal band in a Motel 6 honeymoon suite. Garbage? Throw it on the ground. Dog detritus? For heaven's sake, don't pick it up. Broken glass? Oh well, everything comes to an end. And so on. This is particularly evident in Buenos Aires, but it's kind of the norm in the other cities we visited too. Eventually, somebody comes along and picks up some of the trash, but there will still be car-sized, random piles of what looks like the innards of an entire apartment, or the closeout sale from a box factory.
This “Why Not” sort of approach to civic cleanliness reaches its acme in what appears –at least to somebody from the U.S.- to be Argentinians' extremely cavalier attitude towards personal safety. As I write this, I gaze upwards from the hotel's trashed and lovely courtyard into a thicket of randomly strung electrical wires (see picture above). Are some of these tangled filaments live? Who knows? Will we be electrocuted? Why not?
My very favorite manifestation of this attitude involves people welding things on city streets. Every day, literally, I encountered teams of two or three guys (never women) welding something to something. Usually one or more of them were teetering on a ladder or crouched in the middle of a pedestrian walkway.
Always, the welding device was attached to a power source via an intricate network of aging extension cords, all of which would be made whole by generous swaths of frayed duct tape. Sparks shower down on passersby and up into the face of the welder (who, of course, would bring shame upon himself if he wore a welder's mask or protective garments). Generally, he's also smoking a cigarette and carrying on a conversation while he's bent to his task.
In honor of this group of hardy souls I created The League of Sketchy Welding, and started awarding myself points every time I spotted a member of this august group. I got extra credit if one of a given welding team was blind or asleep, or if the rickety ladder was leaned against an electrical wire. My husband notes that I needed to also award credit for the guy chopping up a small tree, not with a chainsaw, but with a metal grinder. Why not?
Other highlights:
Fun With Explosives
The Argentinians' commendable gusto involving civic participation takes a bit of getting used to. Strikes and demonstrations are frequent and par for the course. Natives and seasoned travelers greet these outbursts of communal expression with a roll of the eyes and a shrug, or by joining whatever throng is making a ruckus. A visitor like myself, on the other hand is constantly studying other people's faces to make sure that the shouting crowd dujour is not about to turn into a murderous mob hell-bent on mayhem. If everybody else looks bored or is applauding or taking pictures (something Argentinians love to do), you figure it's o.k. It was never not o.k.My favorite manifestacion was the one we were drawn into during our stay in Cordoba. It all began when I was partaking in the free breakfast at the King David Hotel. There was a huge, percussive BANG outside the hotel, that startled me so much I half rose from my chair and said, in English, “What the hell was that?” The nice lady at the next table, who has relatives in New Jersey, reassured me. “It's just a demonstration,” she said in Spanish. “They're shooting off fireworks.” It was day light, so I hardly saw the point of that, but imagined they had just shot the one off from the top of a safe building to get the party started.In fact, when my husband and I went out about 20 minutes later, it emerged that they were simply shooting the damn things off IN THE STREET while the parade of disgruntled union workers banged drums, shouted and used a gigantic Argentinian flag as a kind of parachute to fling thousands of leaflets into the air to flutter like blossoms onto the streets. Every time a volley of fireworks would go off, the stray dogs in attendance would yap their displeasure. A man declaimed sonorously and unintelligibly from a PA system mounted on top of a mini-bus. More fireworks. The PA played stirring music. Everybody sang a lovely song.To this day, I have only the vague impression that they were demonstrating for better wages and working conditions. At the time, I was so moved I had tears in my eyes. I wanted to grab a banner and march, to learn the words to the song. In a way, I guess, I kind of did.
Ordering Food
For the first week, no matter what I tried to order for breakfast, I ended up with a ham and cheese sandwich on toasted white bread with the crusts cut off. Finally, I found “omelettes” on the menu and ordered one. It arrived, looking every inch the U.S. omelet. Then I cut into it, and uncooked egg whites and yolks gushed forth. My husband pretended we'd gotten a call and had to take the “food” para llevar (to go). Turns out there are two styles of eggs popular here, “crudo” (raw) and “cocido” (cooked). Most people prefer 'em crudo. Myself, however, not so much.
Bathrooms
Every bathroom is completely different from the next. Strike that: every STALL is its own entity, distinct from any other stall anywhere in the country. On a bus trip through the Andes, we stopped at a place where you had to pick between the stall that had light but no toilet seat, or the one that had the toilet seat and was dark as the inside of a locked suitcase. Oh yeah, and bring your own toilet paper just to be safe, and some change. Some places simply didn't have t.p. Buena suerte. (Good luck.) Others had it, but you needed to make a donation in order to have access to it. In still others, there was good old absorbent, familiar, paper product.
The “Nonkin”
And speaking of paper products, none of us were able to unravel The Mystery of The Nonkin. A nonkin is what passes for a table napkin in Argentina. At first glance, it looks like any other of its ilk, if a bit smaller, about the size of your average drink coaster folded daintily in half. Alas, if you're an American and have the misfortune to actually need a napkin in Argentina, you then come face to face with The Mystery of The Nonkin. Nonkins feel like the wax paper Americans use to pick up doughnuts, they crinkle, and have the absorbent properties of, say, steel or rubber. You cannot clean up a spill with a nonkin. You can, however, contain whatever mess has been made by building a barrier of crumpled nonkins around the liquid and waiting for it to dry on its own.
Dogs and Cats
My husband doesn't know this, but prior to coming here, it was my settled intention to acquire a very small dog upon our return. Since our sojourn in Argentina, however, I've realized there are enough dogs in the world and I don't need to encourage people to produce more. Ownerless (vs. feral) dogs and cats are everywhere in the cities we visited. They're friendly and used to people, and they're also accomplished shmoozers. I never got up enough gumption to actually touch one of the dogs. As an aggregate, they are a testimony to the wonders of the genetic crapshoot, and they tend to be filthy and sort of moth eaten. However, one night in Mendoza, I bonded with a small, yellowish dog that I surmised was the result of one night's torrid passion between a pomeranian and a basset hound. We made eye contact. I slipped him some gristle from my steak and half an egg I didn't want. He lay at my feet for a few minutes, not begging or even looking at me. Then he moved on. Wish I could have taken him home. THAT was a good dog.I have so much more to tell, but I'll stop. It's a lovely day. We only have about an hour before the taxi comes. There are guys in the high rise next door flying paper airplanes from the fifteenth story fire escape.
Why not?
Anna
Dogs and Cats
My husband doesn't know this, but prior to coming here, it was my settled intention to acquire a very small dog upon our return. Since our sojourn in Argentina, however, I've realized there are enough dogs in the world and I don't need to encourage people to produce more. Ownerless (vs. feral) dogs and cats are everywhere in the cities we visited. They're friendly and used to people, and they're also accomplished shmoozers. I never got up enough gumption to actually touch one of the dogs. As an aggregate, they are a testimony to the wonders of the genetic crapshoot, and they tend to be filthy and sort of moth eaten. However, one night in Mendoza, I bonded with a small, yellowish dog that I surmised was the result of one night's torrid passion between a pomeranian and a basset hound. We made eye contact. I slipped him some gristle from my steak and half an egg I didn't want. He lay at my feet for a few minutes, not begging or even looking at me. Then he moved on. Wish I could have taken him home. THAT was a good dog.I have so much more to tell, but I'll stop. It's a lovely day. We only have about an hour before the taxi comes. There are guys in the high rise next door flying paper airplanes from the fifteenth story fire escape.
Why not?
Anna
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Video: Klez/Chor Smackdown
There was also an international Choral festival happening in Mendoza while we were there. Sometimes we ended up at the same restaurant.
Video: Mendoza Parque Central
Mairead & Fiona make their international debut with Mames Babegenush. We'll have to keep an eye on the girls today, lest they try to stow away in the Mames' luggage.
A random note about this venue: the park is huge, and a trip to the bathroom requires a long walk from the amphitheatre, past roughly half a mile of playground. At 8 pm, this area was largely vacant. After the concert, at 12:30 am, the playground was teeming with hundreds of families with toddlers & young children, picnicking and playing. The scene was like Vilas Park on a Sunday afternoon, minus the sun.
A random note about this venue: the park is huge, and a trip to the bathroom requires a long walk from the amphitheatre, past roughly half a mile of playground. At 8 pm, this area was largely vacant. After the concert, at 12:30 am, the playground was teeming with hundreds of families with toddlers & young children, picnicking and playing. The scene was like Vilas Park on a Sunday afternoon, minus the sun.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
