Happy friend day to you, amigo

July 20th is a great day to be a friend in Argentina. The highly social country celebrates Friend Day-- not kidding-- with love and pomp. It began on the morning radio shows, where listeners called in to dedicate a song to their dearest of buddies. Flower stalls lining the busy streets invited you to treat your mates to a deserved bouquet. Throughout the rest of the day, the question "Con quien te juntas hoy" ("who are you meeting up with?") was on everyone's lips. The only downside? Argentines have far, far too many friends. It was nearly impossible to find room in a restaurant that night, as gregarious locals had reserved every table for a lengthy, copious and, you guessed it, friendly meal.



A pizzeria on Avenida Corrientes joins the fun of El Dia Del Amigo.

VOCABULARIO

BOMBILLA-- A light bulb. But, and more importantly in Argentina, the metallic straw used to stir mate, the herbal infusion that locals constantly drink. Its a thin straw that has a wide, round bit at the bottom to allow the beverage to be sipped-- thus the name light bulb.

QUILOMBO-- According to Argentines, everything is a major, major quilombo. The word is slang for mess. Which, frankly, gives you a pretty good insight into some parts of Argentina...

The writing is on the wall

"There is something of crazyness in love and reason in crazyness.



"The debt belongs to the state. But is payed by the people."



"Let's recover our earth."

Lost in translation

Me, checking the time: "Son las ocho y miedo."

Son las ocho y MEDIA? It's eight and half (i.e." 8:30)
But ocho y MIEDO? It's eight and fear.

Filete

Filete is a flowery design that decorates the city's buses, streets and shops.

According to (a no-doubt revamped) legend, the style was created by two young boys of Italian origin who worked in a repair shop in the early 20th century. Bored one Sunday afternoon and tired of staring at the uniformly grey buses lined up to be mended, they began carving colourful flowers and lines around the vehicle. And that night, filete was born. There was no turning back-- the design invaded the city.

Filete's description is quite akin to Buenos Aires'. Urban but not devoid of nature. Sprouted from the hands of European workers who firmly rooted themselves in this country. Of exact origin unclear, but embraced with fierce pride. And, especially, very pretty to look at.

Overheard in Buenos Aires

Saturday evening, in the bus. I almost fall over after a sharp turn.

Old woman in a fur coat: "You have to hold on tight in this country."

A stroll in Congreso & Tribunales neighborhood

If you dig impressive, stone-built monuments, flock to the area of Congreso & Tribunales, a neighborhood in the center of Buenos Aires. A very, very minimalist guided tour:



The famous Avenida Corrientes, which is Buenos Aires' fierce response to Broadway. Theaters own the street, advertising cheap-looking 'Carnaval cabaret' specials alongside Arthur Miller's and local gems. Their only rival on the avenue? A noble one-- bookstores. They are interspersed between the theaters-- and stay open past midnight. Buenos Aires culture at its finest. (Note the obelisco at the end of the avenue).



The park at Plaza Lavalle, which is majestically surrounded by...



... The famous Teatro Colon, which just reopened after three years of renovations, as well as...



... The Palace of Justice.



And last, but not least, a snapshot of one of many striking avenue corners in the neighborhood.

Vocabulario

LUNFARDO-- What first strained my ears when I arrived; the Buenos Aires slang. It seems to have created a different word for every one I thought I knew-- especially when it comes to insults. It's playful, creative and often quite biting. Early 20th century immigrants are credited with its start; the majority of young Argentines now merrily carry on the tradition to the despair of confused foreigners.

TENER FIACA-- To feel lazy. Though Porteños seem to constantly be on the move-- after that mate is passed around, there is a party to attend-- I hear this complaint often. Its roots are, you guessed it, Italian.

PETITERO-- Snobby young male, often spotted prancing around the Northern part of the city, as the elegant avenues are more suited to his tastes than the more proletarian Southern areas.

The writing is on the wall

"No to marriage, gay or not." Last week, Argentina became the first Latin American country to allow gay marriage.



"For whom did they make prisons if the rich never enter and the poor never leave?"



"We keep going/ walking."



"Freedom for the street."



"Continue resisting!"

A hop over to Uruguay

There is but a river separating Uruguay and Argentina-- and, frankly, not much else. Though of course Argentina towers over its little neighbor (no offense intended), the two countries are very similar culturally and historically. On Sunday, I crossed the Rio de La Plata to visit the quaint town of Colonia, which is perched on hills overlooking the water. Well, Buenos Aires has charm, but Colonia is basically charm incarnate. The Portuguese founded it and it claims to be Uruguay's first city. Colonia was then ruled back and forth between Portugal and Spain until it was freed from Iberian clutches to become part of Uruguay in 1828. Though the gusts of wind and slight drizzle dampened-- both literally and figuratively-- the visit, Colonia's old, stone-built town, lighthouse and mate were more than worth the visit.

Overheard in Buenos Aires

Horrified eleven year-old Argentine, upon learning that nearly all men in Switzerland have weapons at home due to their military service: "Oh my god! Imagine if they did that here!" And then he began predicting imminent revolution or the return of a dictatorship.

Why I love Uruguay

I mean, truly, does it get any better than that?

Vocabulario

PANQUEQUE-- Yes, a mispelled version of pancake. But also a way of describing a person who flip-flops.
BOTINERA-- A young, sexy woman, often a model, who has the incredibly privilege of dating a member of Argentina's worshipped football team. Most likely to be spotted sprawled across the pages of a tabloid paper, scantily clad. The word comes from 'botine' which means soccer cleats in Spanish.
CINTA-- Literally a ribbon. But also the word for the long, thin pasta ubiquitous in Argentina's numerous Italian-- and pseudo- Italian-- restaurants.

The writing is on the wall

"My life is valuable; my body has no price."



Viva El Che... he lives on. Please ignore what's written underneath.

Stretching in Argentina

"What, that's all?" So exclaimed my flamboyant Argentine gym teacher when he saw the (admittedly small) weights I had charged onto my bar during a class last week. I recently joined the neighborhood gym, which has turned out to be a hilarious decision. The friendly space seems unchanged since the 1980s-- equipment and outfits both. So far, every class has kicked off with between 15 minutes and 25 minutes of delay. The instructor himself is an institution within the establishment's wall. He is constantly encouraging us to pack on more weight-- whereas in Switzerland the teachers soothingly repeat that every person has to choose what is comfortable for them. We work out, most unfortunately, to the sound of old Ricky Martin hits and YMCA. Everyone in the class is incredibly friendly, as in Argentina in general, and a substantial portion of them insist on speaking their schoolkid French on me. Even the teacher sometimes translates "uno, dos, tres" to Moliere's tongue, in case I didn't get it. It's fun, full of contradictions and a pretty good workout. The most recent incongruity? At the end of the last lesson, he reminded us the gym would be closed the next day, due to the national Day of Independence. "Remember to eat lots of empanadas tomorrow!," he shouted as we streamed out.

Lost in translation

Me, explaining a story: "Y tengo un amigo bulgar.."

Tengo un amigo bulgarO-- "I have a Bulgarian friend."
Tengo un amigo vulgar-- "I have a vulgar friend" (bulgar and vulgar are basically pronounced the same in Spanish)

The writing is on the wall

"No student imprisoned for fighting/ struggling."



Self-explanatory?



"Routine is the habit of renouncing to think."

Vocabulario

BARBARO-- In its primary meaning, something barbarian. Which is why I spent a good few days confused as to why people were refering to certain football games as "barbarian," or describing a club as being fully "barbarian." Turns out it's a truly barbarian way of saying cool.

LABORO-- From the Italian, which signifies work. Though "trabajo" is also used, the strong Italian impact on the country has also seeped into language.

MATA HAMBRE-- Hunger-killer. It is, of course, a large hunk of meat.

My hood

A few weeks ago, I moved into my own studio, in the neighborhood of San Telmo. Or so claimed the advertisement. In actuality, my flat is a little hop South of San Telmo, in the neighborhood of Barracas. Mention the area to Porteños, and odds are they'll shake their head and the word "danger" will emanate from their mouths. So far, I've pretty much continued to assert that I live in San Telmo. It's like saying you live along the beach in San Diego, California, when you actually live just a tad downwards, in crowded Tijuana. Or something like that.

But recently, I've grown to appreciate Barracas' many charms-- strictly during the daytime, of course. I live next to a pretty, grassy park which hosts kids on carousels during the daytime, and caters to junkies at night. There is a semi-friendly Chino (a 'chino', which means Chinese, is a supermarket, a great numbero of which are owned by, you guessed it, Chinese.) There is a pastry shop, the city's main Orthodox church and a series of bus stops-- what more could a tenant possible desire?




Orthodox church. Also stunning inside.



Colonial architecture in the parque Lezama.



Parque Lezama's market, source of great temptation for this neighbor.




Parque Lezama put to good use.

Overheard in Buenos Aires

Argentine, about his country's culture, specifically it's desires of Europeaness: "We are what we don't want to be and we want to be what we aren't."

A seat in Buenos Aires

The city always rushes, but the clever ones sit down to watch it zoom by. Well, or to snooze.



Siesta at the Centro Cultural Borges.



The high view in my neighborhood's Parque Lezama.



Chess duel on a Sunday afternoon in Parque Lezama.



Waiting for customers in Recoleta.



Feet in Recoleta. A must.

The writing is on the wall

"If pleasure is a sin, welcome to hell."



"To be or to appear to be, that is the question."



"Freedom for the oppressed. (Added): Death to the oppressor."



"Non- violence is strength."



"Everything belongs to them. But the night is ours."

The writing is not on the wall

Who dared to opine that Latin America isn't modern?

Because it's clearly cutting edge.

Recoleta cemetery

One of Buenos Aires' main attractions is, in fact, a cemetery. But the sprawling, stone-built site is unlike any graveyard I have had the misfortune of visiting in the past. It is simply beautiful. And, oddly enough, not depressing-- perhaps on account of the insane amounts of animated Brazilians constantly touring the grounds. The main attraction of one of the city's main attractions is Eva Peron's grave, which is relatively simple and devishly well-hidden (as I found out the hard way; see below).














The adulation of Eva Peron still thrives, as these flowers on her tomb indicate.

Lost in translation

Me, asking for directions in the Recoleta cemetery: Where is Evita?
Guard # 1, pointing to the sky: In heaven.
Guard # 2: Or maybe in hell... or even purgatory. Who knows?
Guard # 1: Did you mean to ask where Evita's tomb is?
Me, deflated: Yes...

The writing is on the wall

"In the past, chains. Now, tickets. We are slaves."



"The neighborhood is not the guilty one-- you are the addict."



"Footprints of the fog."