Viva el Fuego

... it's my new saying for Buenos Aires, and Argentina in general.  Directly translated, it says, "The Fire Lives."  Nothing could be more true about this impassioned people and country.  So often I avoid traveling to the capital city of a country because every capital in the world is alike, to an extent.  Now, now, before you go throwing examples in my face, let me explain.  The capital city, seat of government, etc. is bound to be a bit more metropolitan and a bit more busy than your typical city in any given country.  Try to prove me wrong.  Also, capitals are often known for their people--sometimes a different breed than the rest of the country.  Case in point, Buenos Aires is known as the Paris of Latin America and both Paris and Buenos Aires are known for their slightly snobbish, very proud inhabitants.  Having traveled in both, I concur.  It's not that I dislike the people of either, they just know that they come from a special place, and want to make sure you know it too.  However, Buenos Aires surprised me in ways I haven't even comprehended yet.  Buenos Aires appears to be the epitome of all that is Argentina, especially during the festivities for the bicentennial.   The fire lives--in Buenos Aires.

So what of this fire?  Well, pardon the very general and somewhat stereotypical statements I am about to make: Argentine's are not hard-workers.  In fact, as a whole, they avoid anything that appears like hard work as if it was an infectious disease.  The result is apparent in the lack of customer service, and the general lethargy of their economy.  I know that there are Argentine's with sweat on their brow working hard every day; I just haven't met them yet.  The general public has been swindled and taken advantage of for many of its 200 years as a nation--you can't blame them for being less than thrilled about giving it their all.

However, their passion has remained alive in other ways.  The resilience of these people astounds me.  They stand by what is Argentine and they defend it to the bloody end.  They are fiercely proud and fiercely protective of their culture and their loves.  It's not a cultural cliche, the tango absolutely defines these people.  The tango is a dance of passion, a dance of forsaken love, a dance of yearning.  They don't need to be told they've been subjugated in the past, but you can't hear how they've stayed strong.  Instead, you can only see it.  You can see it in the fire that truly lives.

Walk into a futbol stadium, any stadium, and see the fire.  See the fire in the eyes of a father as he holds his child's hand and points out a favored player.  See the fire in the pointing finger as the grandpa next to you shouts rather colorful insults at the referee who is clearly blind, and/or watching a different soccer match.  See the fire in the ferocious waving of the Argentine flag at every goal.

The fire is always there... just below the surface.  Even sitting in cafes, the fire is there.  Argentines are known for their cafe culture.  The fire is tangible in the way they sit, the way they sip.  The conversation is always lively, people interrupting, half rising in their seat to be heard above the rest.  An Argentine loves nothing more than a good discussion--the more heated, the better.

Like other Latin American cultures, they take things a step slower here.  Everything is relaxed, including time schedules, meals, and friendships.  It should never be mistaken for a lack of caring or a lack of passion.  At the beginning of my experience here, I think I made that mistake.  But, after a lot of time and a lot of interaction,  I see the fire.  I feel the fire.  I live the fire.  To find your passion, to find your fire, makes life a bit sweeter.  To take what you care for and magnify it---amazing.

The fire is absolutely tangible.  The fire is absolutely real.  Viva el fuego.

Madres de la Plaza de Mayo

Every Thursday, at 3:30 p.m. on the dot, a group of grandmotherly women, wrapped in white head scarves, take to the Plaza de Mayo in front of the Casa Rosada (the Argentine equivalent of the White House) to demonstrate as they have for over three decades now.  During the Dirty War in Argentina, 1976-1983, thousands of people disappeared.  It is a misnomer, it wasn't a war so much as a highly corrupt and violent series of military dictators that ruled with an iron fist and a quick hand to jail people.  The issue is, once they were jailed, they were rarely heard from again.  To this day there is little to no evidence of where they went, what happened to them, or sadly even, where their remains are.  Since April 30th, 1977, the mothers of the disappeared have gathered in the plaza to beg for information.

We gathered with them last week, and watched their solemn and steady procession.  We heard as names of some of the disappeared were announced for one and all to listen.  It was powerful, and shaking to the core.

After the procession, I had the opportunity to talk with some of the mothers.  I met one of the original fourteen.  She has been coming to the Plaza every Thursday since that first day, always with photos of her daughter and son-in-law, and a blank sheet for the grandchild she will never know.  Her daughter gave birth in a concentration camp, but she has found no further record of the child, or of the parents.  To see first hand the emotion in this mother's eyes was so moving and profound.  Often people throw around statistics of this many casualties in a war, or that many disappeared.  Statistics don't show you the personal horror that these women face and have faced for thirty-three years.  I admire their strength and their determination to return rain or shine and let their message ring true.  True love never fails.

 

La Boca y el Baile

There are so many stories to be had in Buenos Aires, how can I select but just a few to share with my beloved readers? This one is famous enough to be told.

Buenos Aires is and has always been a city of immigrants.  Most notably, Spanish and Italian immigrants.  In years past, they flocked to Buenos Aires to work the port, and the factories surrounding it.  Many immigrants grouped together in a neighborhood that is today known as La Boca.  Some parts of it are still strongly working class, and somewhat scary for the casual tourist, but other parts have definitely jumped on the tourist wagon.  La Boca is famous in photographs for it's buildings.  After finishing their work painting ships, signs or whatever their job entailed, workers would often bring the extra paint home with them, to slap it on their corrugated steel homes, giving the neighborhood a vibrant, colorful appeal.

But the buildings aren't the only vibrant thing La Boca boasts.  Argentine tango was also invented on these streets.  The tango is a sensual dance, all about the push and pull of love.  There is always a hint of sadness in the steps, a longing desire for the unreachable.  The immigrants that developed this dance style felt that same yearning for a life they could only reach through dance.  The footwork is fancy, but the emotion is expressively poignant.  I am working on loading a video that I took at a tango show on our last night in Buenos Aires, check back for that.  Until then...

Bicentinario 1810-2010: Yo estuve

I am incredibly blessed in the life I lead.  I've had some absolutely incredible experiences in my 21 short years.  This trip marks one of the highlights.  I was already falling head over heels in love with Argentina--and this just cemented it in my heart forever.  With Superglue.

May 25th is the Dia de la Revolucion in Argentina--basically the 4th of July :).  This year market the 200th anniversary of the beginning of the Argentine Republic.  I was very excited to spend this day in the capital city and it did not disappoint.  All weekend there were special activities throughout the country, culminating in this special day.  All the plazas and main streets were completely shut down all weekend for crowds to gather and listen to musical performances, speakers, etc.

During the afternoon, we walked on the main fair grounds, eating delicious local fair, including the infamous Choripan sandwiches.  They consist of two ingredients, chorizo sausage and pan (bread).  Chorizo is a flavorful sausage, but not the spicy sausage we associate with Spain.  It has a fairly high fat content, which makes it all the more delicious, and is fried to a perfect crispy outside.  They are addicting.  The grounds had a bit of everything: booths of the different provinces, displays from various groups, balloons, stages, vendors, you name it.  We walked around for hours, soaking up the sun and the fun.

However, the highlight of the day was the parade.  The first people to walk down the street practically knocked me over.  Eight Latin American Presidents and one ex-president marched past us, only to take their place on a stage a stone's throw away.  We moved closer and finally got to stand about 30 feet from them.  I was losing my mind it was so cool.  It was hard to get a great picture, but this is the best our collective effort could do:

It's hard to spot them but Chavez, Lugo, Lula, Morales, Kirchner, Pinera, Correa, Mujica y Lazo all are there. Plus, good ole Nestor Kirchner, Cristina's husband.

This in itself was cool enough for me, and for the whole trip, but a spectacular parade followed.  It followed Argentina's history in the past 200 years.  The floats were huge and impressive and inventive.  Here are a few of my favorite shots:

It was really quite something

Vamos, Argentina.... VAMOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSSSS

Futbol.  (aka soccer). It's a way of life here.  And I got to experience it first hand!  The World Cup is coming up in a few weeks and the national team of Argentina had one more match before the real deal.  After much haggling and some frantic text messages between Leslie and myself, we finagled ourselves a spot on a bus to the stadium and tickets to the show.

And a show it was.  It reminded me of a Packer game, or maybe a Badger game, where all you see for miles around is a sea of the team's colors and fans cheering and hooting at every opportunity.  Before the actual game started, there was jets flying over and streamers and gallivanting about the stadium.  From the start, Canada didn't stand a chance.  My theory is they arranged this game so that Argentina could kick some tooshie in celebration of the bicentennial festivities.  Really, Canada, stick to soccer.  I love my northern neighbors--but the goalie literally ducked out of the way of the ball once.  I realize I am not a soccer expert, but my intuition tells me there is something fundamentally wrong with that move.


The energy in the stadium was at a fever pitch.  The cheers were loud, long and strong.  Argentina absolutely rocks the wave.  It slithered around the stadium multiple times.  These folks know how to do it up right. It was incredible to watch people come together so much over a sport.  It just shows how passionate this country is.  I love it.

 5-0

Unstoppable

...Be Our Guest...

That's right... I saw the Broadway musical Beauty and the Beast
Yes.  It was a dream come true.

I wasn't aware that it would be in Buenos Aires when we were, but my friend Leslie was able to get discount tickets through her bank so we all piled into the theater.  I make it sound so easy.  Here's what really happened:

Brice and I were late leaving the market (he finally caught the shopping bug and decided to make some last minute purchases, I have a bad influence like that [see Shopping Bliss for more information]).  As we began walking to meet with Leslie and Filipine at a cafe, the rain started.  The skies opened and rain flowed from the sky like Niagra, Iguazu and Victoria Falls all put together.  I have never seen/ felt rain so strong and so heavy in my life.  The umbrella proved useless against the torrential downpour.  We finally arrived a soaking, cold mess.

No matter how damp or cold I was, my spirits couldn't be dampened in the least.  It truly was magical.  It was in Spanish, but the songs sounded exactly the same, just the words were in Spanish.  The sets were absolutely brilliant.  It was better than the movie.  They were fantastic and dreamlike.  The acting was stupendous and all the actors were incredibly talented.  The dance numbers were astounding.  The "Be Our Guest" was played out just like the movie, and there were people dancing as plates, knives, spoons, forks, desserts and moving parts on the stage.  Captivating.  Magical.  I may or may not have cried while Belle and the Beast danced.  You would have too.

Shopping Bliss

BIENVENIDOS A BUENOS AIRES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

We arrived very late at night, so our first night in the city consisted of a pizza dinner, not recommended by Lonely Planet but still delicious.  It was a deep dish pizza--the first of it's kind I've seen south of Chicago.  I must say, it definitely put up a fight to the Windy City versions.  Although we were tired, our French amigos invited us to check out an "internationally known" club called Pacha.  It was quite an experience.  DJ's spinning some crazy good beats in the different areas of the club provided a nice backdrop to dancing and good timing with friends.  Lonely Planet encourages you to stay until sunrise on the patio but we did not make it that long.

The next day was full of surprise and adventure.  We woke up and headed to a neighborhood south of the Microcentro called San Telmo.  There is a huge artisan's market there and I was in shopping heaven for hours.  Brice wasn't nearly as impressed with opportunities to shop, but he was impressed with my ability to spot the deals and consequently make them mine.  Let's just say, I'm bringing home a lot of presents for you!  I looked for Argentine goods.  This market was full of authentic artisan crafts--not all the fake junk that sometimes infiltrates these open air markets.  My favorite purchases of the day include a fancy leather belt, a beautiful tango photograph and a special necklace.  Thank goodness for the peso/ dollar exchange rate!