The Buenos Aires Journal......

Hola!
Buenos Dias....

Unfortunately that is the extent of my command over Spanish. That can not be helpful, as I learned upon my arrival here in Buenos Aires, Argentina....the land of beef, soccer and Eva Peron. But there is so much more to Argentina than just that. This is a land that has witnessed such political strife and struggle over several decades that its people deserve kudos for their fortitude and patience. Argentina recently hopped onto my radar when I was looking for the next destination for my travels away from New York. And I am so glad I made this trip. It is invigorating to visit a new land and interact with its people despite the language handicap.

So, I departed from New York on Friday June 13th. I was to fly to Houston at 4:35pm, land in Houston at 7:30pm and hop on the 9pm flight to Buenos Aires. All went smoothly at Newark airport and we were all seated in our seats by 4:15pm, however, the only people not in their seats were the two pilots. The clock ticked away, the environs within the aircraft turned stuffy and the lack of airconditioning rendered the interiors rather uncomfortable to bear. We were sweating! Finally, one of the co-passengers who perhaps was also a pilot himself, stood up, walked into the cockpit and switched on something which blasted off the airconditioning, much to the relief of the rest of us. However, the pilots remained absent. We were informed that they had landed at gate no. 72 and were on their way to gate 218 (where we waited for them).
The flight finally departed at 6:30pm and landed in Houston at 8:57pm.  My earlier connection time of 1.5 hours now had shrunk to several seconds only. I have never before sprinted that fast to catch my flight.  The Buenos Aires flight was from terminal E which appeared to be the farthest terminal from where we landed. It was just awful. I was sweating buckets and utterly breathless as I landed at the gate. Once on board, all was well and I even managed to sleep during most of the flight.

Sailed through the immigrations at Buenos Aires airport on Saturday morning and off I went in a "Remise" (Taxi) to the Apart-Hotel in Ricoleta on Avenue Callao. It was a beautiful, bright, sunny Saturday morning. The cab pulled up in front of my hotel and I, with my sunglasses on and nose up in the air soaking the bright sun, looking everywhere but at the ground, stepped out of the cab, my bags in hand.  After exchanging some polite words with the cab driver in what sounded the most unpalatable blend of English and Spanish, I graciously disengaged myself from him and stepped forward and ---- SPLAAATTT!! I tripped, fell and landed face down, spread-eagled right in front of the main glass door entrance of the apart-hotel, my bags tossed away from me - all this as the cab driver and building security guard stared at me incredulously! I neglected to notice the solitary step and tripped over it. Suffering from acute embarrassment, I collected myself and stumbled into the hotel, gone was my initial poise and style. The rest of the day was spent getting myself familiarized with the premises, the city, the neighborhood, and finding food.

Then came Sunday morning. I woke up late and went looking for a nice tall cuppa caffe from the Cafe across the street. I think, coffee everywhere in the world except America is just divine! They don't treat it as a mere chore, to them it is almost sacred. I returned to the room and began planning my first official day in Buenos Aires. I laid out the various maps, my guide book, Meneca's email, and other material to chalk out my activities for the day. The door bell rang at 9:30am. It was the maid service. It was an interesting conversation with neither party comprehending the words of the other. I managed to communicate that they should come after 1pm. An hour later, the door bell rang again, and once again similar indiscernible confabulations ensued. This time they made it clear that "uno" o'clock is not acceptable. They will return at noon. I agreed reluctantly. I returned to the desk. The door bell rang again. It was 11:15am. Maid Service once again! This time I cried out from my post at the desk - "Later! Not now! 12pm!!!". There was silence. Then the key turned in the key hole. I froze. The three of them walked in. I leapt! Made a dash for the bed linen but it was too late.  You see, I was "au naturel". There I stood in all of my birthday suit regalia in front of these 3 Argentine women. Exclamations in Spanish ensued. I grabbed the bed sheet to cover myself. They bumped into each other as they hurriedly exited the room. The three latin women now possessed the unique and rare distinction, that only a handful other women do, of gaining such "intimate familiarity of me". Recovering from the experience, I picked up the phone, called the management and firmly advised them that I don't want to be disturbed before 1pm during my stay with them. They were quick to oblige.

That day, after stepping out for a run and hitting the gym, I called Meneca, Susannah's Argentine friend. Meneca and Susannah were together at Yale. Meneca possesses a sociology and journalism background. To my pleasant surprise, Meneca wanted to meet rightaway. "Let's meet in half hour in front of the Ricoleta Cemetary", she said. We met at the gate and then we embarked on our tour of the cemetary. This is where Eva Peron lays in rest. Real estate prices in this area of the City are untouchable. The cemetary is huge, almost akin to a neighborhood. The most influential Argentinians are buried here and among them is the Duarte family - Eva's maiden name. Some of the graves (or mausoleums) are simply spectacular, eye popping pieces of masonry dating back to hundreds of years. The Duarte family mausoleum, where Eva's body lies, is (and surprisingly to me) quite unremarkable. Very plain in comparison to others. It is adorned in black stone with a very simple facade. It took some searching before Meneca and I found the Duarte tomb. In the meanwhile, Meneca gave me a tour of the cemetary which unfolded into a history lesson spanning several decades or centuries. The woman possesses an encyclopediac knowledge of Argentine history and I tried to soak in as much as I could. We would walk over to a grave and she would begin "and this son of a bitch......". I would burst out laughing and so would she as we stood in front of the chap's tomb. The cemetary that day was fairly deserted, much to M's surprise, which made the tour quite enjoyable for me. Our laughter and loud cackles boomed and bounced off the tombs of the "SOBs" (quoting Meneca, that is). Did you know that Eva's casket was exhumed and it traveled the world, first to Italy where it was buried under a false name and then to other places before returning to its current resting place? It was away from Argentina for about 25 long years during the time the country was under several military regimes and Peron himself was in exile.

After the cemetary, we stepped out and walked around the Ricoleta crafts market where local artisans display their wares. Quite enchanting it was to inspect their craft. The crafts market is only held on weekends, however, this was a long weekend in Argentina with Monday being a holiday (Flag Day).

Then Meneca and I sped off in a taxi to "San Telmo" - a neighborhood of Buenos Aires mostly known for its bohemian character. Artists and craftsmen congregate there to display their wares and talents on the street, stores, art galleries and shops line on either side of cobblestoned streets. It was here that we witnessed a delightful tango performance by one of the very well respected tango artists of Buenos Aires. It was utterly enchanting and still remains etched in my memory for its raw, rustic, passionate appeal. The chap is personally known to Meneca.

The sun had set and it became very chilly. We decided to find a place to get some dinner. I almost froze. I wasn't properly attired to keep myself warm. I didn't bring warm clothes with me. The weather in Buenos Aires, during my stay, was cold and breezy. The sun did shine brightly which tempered the nip in the air during the day, however, at night it would be fairly cold. I froze to the bone that evening but was too unwilling to admit it to Meneca. So cold was I that articulating my thoughts in a conversation became arduous with my teeth making music of their own. Meneca stopped in front of a restaurant and rattled off the menu to me in English and midway of her recital, I darted inside desperate to embrace the warm interiors. Took me a while to defrost but enjoyed a delightful meal of a certain kind of steaming hot pasta I have never eaten before, topped with a yummy, hot tomato sauce. Sizzling hot potato fries and mashed squash accompanied our meal with beer and coffee. By the way, this was my first meal of the day. We sat down to eat at 6:30pm and the restaurant was completely empty. In Latin countries, people sit down to eat around 11pm, that is when restaurants get busy. My dinner time has always been 6:30pm-7pm. So that was another thing I had to adjust to. During my trip, I was often the only customer in a restaurant at 8pm! Once I appeared at the doorstep of a vegan restaurant at 7:45pm and the chef exclaimed "what??? We have a customer???". He later confessed that the earliest he could serve me anything was 8:30pm.

I dreaded the thought to step out and endure the glacial weather that awaited me but had no choice. Meneca and I parted that evening with fervent promises to meet again on Tuesday.

The next day, Monday, most of the city was closed and so I revisited the arts and crafts market and made some purchases. Most of my day was spent there and then I headed to the vegan restaurant - Bio - which I made a mention of herein above. The food was quite delicious. They were observing "Brazilian night" and the food, though veggie and vegan, had Brazilian flavors to it.

On Tuesday I began my day with a visit to the Evita Museo - a museum dedicated to Eva Peron's memory. Some of her possessions and dresses are on display there. It details her life - her childhood and all the way to her funeral. I saw a movie of her funeral procession which dwarfed any funeral I have ever witnessed before of a celebrity. A sea of humanity descended upon the streets, miles and miles of walls of flowers adorned either sides of the street. It was of a magnitude and proportions I have never witnessed before. She died of cancer at the age of 36.

After the visit to the museum, I met Meneca at "La Violetas" - a popular afternoon "high tea" place frequented by well-heeled Portenos. A charming place with an impressive display of mouth-watering confections, none of which I could consume. By the way, Argentines are big on "Helados" (ice cream). Every other place is an Helados outlet. M and I chatted extensively at La Violetas and then jumped into a remise and sped off to "La Boca" - another eclectic neighborhood resembling the west village of Manhattan. Here we bumped into "Bruno" - a cute, friendly Argentine chap. He was standing outside his restaurant and overheard Meneca talk to me and soon the three of us were chatting. He had lived in Seattle, Miami and San Francisco for sometime of his life.  He was still very young. He took us into his restaurant and showed us around. The decor was splashed with bright colors and a section of the restaurant was reserved for a tango performance during the afternoon and evening hours.

The La Boca neighborhood is known for tango, arts and crafts and its main attraction - the Club Athletico Boca Juniors - the soccer stadium.  Soccer flows in the veins of the Portenos - they are enormously passionate about the sport. They are most at peace watching soccer and drinking their Mate (yerba mate, an herbal tea from South America).  Like we in America socialize over a cup of coffee, they meet over a cup of Mate.

Argentines love to socialize but they prefer to socialize at home instead of heading out. Get-togethers and parties are mostly held at home. By the way, the Argentines are very good looking people. Men and women possess arresting beauty. Despite their eating habits, they are generally fit. I rarely came across a grossly over-weight person as one commonly does in the US.

Cristina Kirchner is Argentina's current President. She assumed power in January and already faces stiff opposition from the masses. The country is currently swept by a socio-economic and political strife. The masses are disgruntled over the Government's agricultural policies. Argentina is the world's leading exporter of soy. Majority of Argentina's agricultural land is employed towards harvesting soy - a crop, I am informed, which causes damage to the land it is harvested upon. It is not the best crop to grow, agriculturally. However, the government views soy as gold and increasingly employs most of its land in the cultivation of soy crop. The other main crop grown here is corn. Between soy and corn, there is very little land available to grow anything else.  So much so, there is hardly any land available for the cattle to graze upon and you know what cattle means to Argentinians - beef!! On top of it, due to the enormous demand of soy, the government has opted to levy sliding scale duties on grain exports. Now, to be noted here is one little but very important detail. Who owns the land soy is cultivated upon? American companies such as Cargill. Past inept military governments basically sold off Argentina to foreign investors. It was an outright sell out, I believe. Most of Argentina's land and infrastructure is owned and operated by foreign companies. These profit oriented foreign companies don't care for the erosion of Argentinian land and its poor farmers and people in general. They care for their profit margins only. The poor farmers feel the deathly squeeze. This has cultivated intense discontent among the Argentines and they came out on the streets in protest over the government policies. It was rumored that the Cristina Kirchner might resign any day due to the growing disapproval of her policies. The days I was in Buenos Aires, the situation was somewhat tense. Arrests were being made, anti-government supporters were holding rallies, shops were closed in protest, some "Subte" (the subway) stations were closed too, there was shortage of food and gas due to the truckers union on strike. I left Buenos Aires on Wednesday night and that was deemed to be a crucial day marking countrywide strong and intense anti-goverment protests.

I am back in New York after an exhilarating trip to Buenos Aires. It is always so enriching to immerse oneself in a different culture, place and people. I returned richer indeed - richer by gaining Meneca's friendship. Her warmth, hospitality, generosity, concern, care and love overwhelmed me. (Thanks Susannah for bringing us together!) Our last meal together was at "La Americana" - an eatery known for its delicious pizzas and Italian food. Due to early Italian immigration, Italian food and culture has a strong presence in Argentina. I ate a cheeseless pizza which was quite delicious indeed. The eatery was close to the Congress building. Meneca got me to admire it from a distance. It is indeed a magnificent piece of imposing architecture. Peron, during his rule, patronized architecture which is evident from the buildings that stand today as a testament to his passion. Many such pieces of architecture are currently being renovated and have been assigned the title of national heritage monuments.

As I mentioned above, there is a lot more to see and experience in Argentina. Argentina is also home to the Igauzu Falls - the largest in the world and the only glacier that is not diminishing in size....yet.  Prohibitive last-minute travel package costs and paucity of time prevented me from visiting these places but I do intend to return to Argentina sometime soon to continue the journey that began with this short trip. Until then I wish the Portenos - "Salud dinero y amor" - a toast in Spanish that Meneca taught me which translates into - "health, wealth and love".

Cheers!
Deepak
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