Tips for newbies to Bs. As.

va2ba said:
I see your point, and I get it, but that is reading way to much into piles of dog poop. But I do understand what you are saying.

I think it depends where you live too. In my neighbourhood, people are pretty good at cleaning up after their dogs and I've seen a couple of signs posted to trees requesting that the street be kept clean. There is one street, however, which is a notorious poo mine-field. Sometimes you make a leap to avoid a turd and end slap bang in another one...
 
nlaruccia said:
I'm glad you have been able to avoid stepping in dog poop. Unfortunately, a lot of blind people who live on my street are unable to avoid it.

I'm surprised by that. I understood that blind people had a more acute sense of smell and could detect incoming poop distance and placement and hence avoid alley apples with ease.
A blind chap once lived nearby my student digs in Bristol, Old Greg, and he hated dogs and used to take a wide meandering course through the local park all based on sense of smell, all the meanwhile berating the owners by name on the nuttiness, meatiness and generally stench of their pets' rectal soup.
I sat next to Old Greg one night in the local and after my buying him a few vermouths we got on to the subject of his handicap and he told me that he went blind as a child, from the toxocara virus, contracted from somebody's pet's mud bunnies left abandoned in the park he played in as a child.

This of course left him quite bitter towards pet owners in general, more so the ones responsible for the undeclared bum nuggets in public spaces. He ranted and I let him talk, until he arrived into the arena of early 20th century politics and loudly declared that he had it from a Wiemar historian friend of his that Hitler's animosity towards certain peoples stemmed from his embarrassing step, slip and roll into some 1920's German toilet twinkie left by a Jewish dog, that was also black. This led to him embarrassingly wiping off the culpable matter from his tweed slacks with his hyperinflation bank notes that had spilled from his trolley, whilst swearing in German ("Ohh sheisse!", ironically), and getting clipped around the ears by his elderly mother, Mrs Hitler, when he arrived home a loaf of bread short.

Well, I laughed, thanked him for the story and never thought of it again until a recent comment by Gpop:

To me, the poop is an analogy of the problems of the city.

The "stewards" do know better and it is entirely within reason that the crap can be cleaned up like any responsible person should, but they don't.
They talk about it, or claim that they always do, but actually never did. It's someone eases fault. They were in a rush, or the blanket "mind your business!" attitude.

Having to dodge the pooch-pies daily is probably (on some subconscious level) the reminder of all that's wrong with this place, but we are powerless to appeal to the sense of responsibility of people who assume that "someone else will clean it up...eventually".

I am thinking, do all our problems at home, work, politically, socially and more stem from dog poo? Is this the evil that has been plaguing our lives while we futilely harangue democracy and seek justice and change when the REAL problem has been under our feet.
I know that the only time I stepped in feculance in this great city it changed me, I became bitter and my outlook on life and the country changed thereon. Imagine if I step in a poopsie again? I might enter politics.
Great Expats, I petition you all to drop whatever it is you are not doing, grab a shovel, a plastic bag and some gloves (maybe some preventive corks as well) and let us take to the streets, fight the great fight, and change the world.

We can lead the new Argentina and, like the successful 19th century immigrants, make this land great and fruitful and a shining example of a free, just, democratic nation. This is OUR poop-free land. God sent Moses across the desert and he found manna, well we have arrived in pastures fresh and we have poop! We can work together to clean the poop from the streets, the poop from our homes, the poop from INDEC, the poop from the halls of office and the poop from the unminding soles of society.



Who's with me?
 
Yeah, I'll admit, the smell can be downright awful sometimes. But the worst smell for me is the city after it rains and then everything smells like cat pee.


I agree, it's almost better when it's dry then after rain. The rain is supposed to clean things up but I don't think it works all the time.
 
I hadn't really intended for this list to turn into a shitshow, so to speak, but since it's headed in that direction, and apropos of some of the most recent comments...

There's the Broken Window theory, which may help explain some of what people have been talking about here. I'm not a social psychologist, but this is a very interesting theory, independent of what's being discussed in this thread.
 
rrptownley said:
I'm surprised by that. I understood that blind people had a more acute sense of smell and could detect incoming poop distance and placement and hence avoid alley apples with ease.

I am awed by the range and creativity of your euphemisms for dog poop. Well played.
 
After spending more than a year here during the last 4 and even after having read about this one I´m embarrassed to admit I still fell for it. Here are the details. I arrived last night at about 10 at Aeroparque needing a ride to Avellaneda.

The remise wait was going to be 45 minutes, the taxi line outside looked long so I started walking down the sidewalk looking for another taxi...and one found me. He had what looked like a real taxi so we took off, chatted, had a good time and he even stopped for me to pick up some ice cream.

When we arrived in front of my house I first handed him a 100 peso note as part of the fare instead of handing him the entire fare all at once and when I looked back up to hand him the other 30 pesos he said¨öh look there´s a tear in this 100 peso note, do you have another¨. (a quarter inch tear mind you....my first thought was so what? and some vague memory began to stir in my travel-adled mind but didn´t quite surface) So in my still reflexibly nice north american way I said sure and traded notes with him. I´m so slow..... after I´d been inside for a while it dawned on me what had probably happened so I checked and sure enough I identified my first (to my knowledge anyway) counterfeit 100 peso note.

It was an expensive evening. I also realized I had left my macbook pro charger in Bariloche. Today I found another at Macstation for....get this...$899 pesos. On Amazon it starts at about $18 US including shipping.

To be on guard all the time like a prey animal in the savanna to be exploited by institutional and individual greed, economic incompetence and corruption feels more and more like too high a price to pay for an extended stay in Bs As. At least in capitalist imperial America you don´t generally have to put up with this level of this kind of bullshit. And it was my birthday. Que tal.
 
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