November 9, 4 PM
Buenos Aires
We had a free day the day after the opening concert. The members of Yid Vicious did various things around the city. Daithi, Sandy, Mairead and Fiona went to San Telmo to see a thing called “the tango”. Apparently, this is a dance that originated in Argentina a couple years ago and now it’s all the rage. (We’re learning so much on this trip, Gentle Reader!) Meanwhile, the rest of us headed to the waterfront to see some of the other KlezFiesta bands perform. We took an exciting cab ride with a cabbie who took care of business and played by his own rules. Did I say “cabbie”? I meant to say “cowboy”, because that’s what this guy really was, a cool cowboy playing by his own cowboy rules. Car lanes? DON’T FENCE ME IN, HOMBRE. Bands we heard included A Mejaie, Segundo Mundo Klezmer , Der Shpiller and Murga Klezmer, all from Argentina, Azdi from Brazil and Hakeshet from Romania. They were all very enjoyable. Murga Klezmer is a super fun party band whose sound appears to have been influenced by the samba. Azdi had a cajon player! Each band was pretty traditional, but each in its own way. Hakeshet was probably the most traditional, being from Eastern Europe and all, but they added their own touch, for example when they “hipped up” the chords to Bai Mir Bist du Shein. There’s no one way to play the klezmer, Good Reader.

We also happened upon a band called Duarde. They were set up literally twenty feet from the big outdoor stage where the klezmer was happening. Also, they were LOUD. Luckily, the klezmer sound guys were able to crank it up enough that you could hear the klezmer over Duarde, but in between each tune was a wall of Duarde. Two of us went to investigate during one of the between-klezmer-bands breaks. They were five, with two guitars, bass, drums and a lead singer. The lead singer looked a lot like seventies Lou Reed, and Matt found his spastic/goofy shenanigans analogous to those of the guy from The Cramps. The drummer played HARD and had wild rock hair. Their sound tended toward the blues but with more wildness and maybe a little bit of Who. They were the awesome. The rhythm guitar and bass held it down, the drums thundered voraciously, the singer ran back and forth, working the crowd and cracking up at jokes being told in his brain, and the lead guitar squealed. They were using Peavey speakers, which added a lot to the rawness of their sound. Later it occurred to me who they REALLY sound like, with all the craziness, blues and two-guitar attack: the MC5. The BA Cinco.

And now, on to The Pants and Intestines Story. During the course of the outing described above, a few of us decided to enjoy a sit and enjoy a beverage or two, plus a little nosh. We found a nice little sidewalk wine-and-meatery and sat down at a table. We ordered a couple bottles of malbec, plus some fries, chorizo, salad, AND…intestines. We were feeling adventurous. I’d never had chitterlings before and thought the place to try it would be in a place where they know meat. The Argentinians know meat, Dear Reader. They know meat to within an inch of its life. We were in good hands, and we went for it. Eventually the intestines arrived. Pig or cow, I never learned which. They had been cut into small sections, each about three inches long, and grilled hard. They seemed crispy and charred on the outside and looked like they would be good. Three of the people at our table declined to sample the intestines. Greg and Dave each tried some, but I don’t know if either of them had a whole section. I cut off a small piece and put it in my mouth. Here are the two things I learned immediately: 1) that intestines are a chewing-intensive food, sort of akin to calamari, and 2) there are different layers to the intestines, the crisp and chewy outer layer and the soft pasty inner layer. Putting these two facts together, one realizes that you have to keep the intestine in your mouth for a while before you can swallow. This is a problem if the soft inner layer turns out to be the most foul thing you’ve ever had in your mouth. I could hear my tongue thinking, This is a nightmare, I will wake-up, this is a nightmare, I WILL wake up over and over again, but it wasn’t even really the taste that was horrible, it was almost a horrific ABSENCE of taste, like eating make-up or wood pulp and then the REAL horror comes when you remember that the thing in your mouth used to be part of an animal, the part that processes feces and IS THIS WHAT FECES TASTES LIKE?!?!?!? After about ten seconds I gave up and spit it out into a napkin. When we were in Japan for two weeks I put whatever someone told me to in my mouth and never once did I spit anything out. Argentina: 1, Japan: 0.

While this was unfolding, Melissa excused herself momentarily. She came back to our table soon thereafter with a sense of urgency. She requested the assistance of Kia or Anna, and without explanation Anna followed Melissa away. The rest of us looked at each other with puzzlement. What was this mysterious assistance that was required? Was it some sort of, um…ladies’ issue? Or was it, as Kia suggested, a translation problem, Anna being our strongest Spanish speaker and Kia the second strongest?

Well, it turns out it was a pants problem, or as they say down here, ¡que situacion escandalosa! Melissa was wearing side-zipping trousers and the zipperteeth had split apart with the handle of the zipper stuck at the top. This posed two problems: 1) potential public exposure and 2) with her pants zipper stuck she would never again be able to go to the bathroom. Action had to be taken. Luckily, Melissa had brought a sweater that would easily cover the exposed region. She’d called in Anna to help with the second problem. Anna offered a safety pin and told Melissa that the zipper would have to torn off. With a yank and a prayer this was accomplished. Then Anna turned out not to have a safety pin. However, there WAS an eye-hook on the waist of the pants. It wasn’t an ideal solution, but it would have to do: Melissa would secure the eye-hook and continue wearing the sweater draped over the exposed area.

What we learned from this incident was how to work together and keep your head in a crisis. Also, next time someone offers you a safety pin, make them show it to you first.