Redpossum
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- Mar 20, 2014
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Saturday was so bleeding hot and humid, it reminded me of summer in Kansas City. I saw a menu item, vegetales vaporisados, and I thought, oh yes, that's how I feel, vaporisado. My comment to the front desk staff was, "es como un baño turco", which seemed to provoke vast amusement.
About 10 that night, I went out for a walk, and it was still warm, but bearable. I wandered up Mayo toward the Plaza Mayo, and passed a sort of pedestrian mall on the left with artisans displaying their work, so I turned in to have a look. I eventually came upon a couple dancing the tango, with a boom box and a hat out for donations. Intrigued, I stopped to watch. Now, I've seen tango on video before, but seeing it in person was a horse of a different color. To say the least, I was amazed. So I watched for a while, and donated generously to the hat. Eventually, I wound up talking to them, and learned that their names were Roberto and Sylvia. They looked to be about mid-40's, and told me they'd been dancing together for roughly three years. Now, I'm still very new here, and I could be completely mistaken, (in which case I'm sure someone here will be kind enough to tell me so), but it seemed to me that perhaps this was a parable for Argentina. The incredible beauty of the tango, the undeniable romance of dancing under the stars on a warm evening, and before each dance, Sylvia carefully pointed out their route to her partner, in order to avoid the holes in the pavement.
Last night I went out for dinner, and by the carrefour there was an woman, obviously an india, blind in one eye, and with a baby at her breast, mumbling pathetic appeals for help to the passersby. I went about three steps past her, and my conscience skewered me so hard, I could not take another step. So I pulled out a 50-peso note, and went back to give it to her. Where was she from? What was her story? I have no idea, but she was as far down and out as I have ever been.
This morning, I walked the other way down Mayo, toward 9 de Julio. There was a big demonstration on the far side. As I was waiting for the light to cross, there was a series of loud bangs. I jumped a mile and the man next to me, in a nice suit, looked at me curiously. I asked him, "it's just firecrackers, right?". He didn't know the word in English, and I didn't know it in Spanish, so I asked him, "como una dynamita pequeñita, verdad? No hay peligro?" He agreed and then we walked off our separate ways. In a few seconds, he came after me and added in English, "this country is like a dynamita, and soon it will explode".
About 10 that night, I went out for a walk, and it was still warm, but bearable. I wandered up Mayo toward the Plaza Mayo, and passed a sort of pedestrian mall on the left with artisans displaying their work, so I turned in to have a look. I eventually came upon a couple dancing the tango, with a boom box and a hat out for donations. Intrigued, I stopped to watch. Now, I've seen tango on video before, but seeing it in person was a horse of a different color. To say the least, I was amazed. So I watched for a while, and donated generously to the hat. Eventually, I wound up talking to them, and learned that their names were Roberto and Sylvia. They looked to be about mid-40's, and told me they'd been dancing together for roughly three years. Now, I'm still very new here, and I could be completely mistaken, (in which case I'm sure someone here will be kind enough to tell me so), but it seemed to me that perhaps this was a parable for Argentina. The incredible beauty of the tango, the undeniable romance of dancing under the stars on a warm evening, and before each dance, Sylvia carefully pointed out their route to her partner, in order to avoid the holes in the pavement.
Last night I went out for dinner, and by the carrefour there was an woman, obviously an india, blind in one eye, and with a baby at her breast, mumbling pathetic appeals for help to the passersby. I went about three steps past her, and my conscience skewered me so hard, I could not take another step. So I pulled out a 50-peso note, and went back to give it to her. Where was she from? What was her story? I have no idea, but she was as far down and out as I have ever been.
This morning, I walked the other way down Mayo, toward 9 de Julio. There was a big demonstration on the far side. As I was waiting for the light to cross, there was a series of loud bangs. I jumped a mile and the man next to me, in a nice suit, looked at me curiously. I asked him, "it's just firecrackers, right?". He didn't know the word in English, and I didn't know it in Spanish, so I asked him, "como una dynamita pequeñita, verdad? No hay peligro?" He agreed and then we walked off our separate ways. In a few seconds, he came after me and added in English, "this country is like a dynamita, and soon it will explode".
