First Thoughts

The streets of Buenos Aires reflect the struggles of a people who in the last year have seen their currency devalue to 1/3 its former glory, inflation rates of 40%, and unemployment of more than 35%. The people of Argentina are hurting, and the walls of Buenos Aires cry out with their story. Graffiti has sprung up everywhere in the Capitol. When I visited two years ago, the city was beautiful, with statues glowing in the afternoon sun while children played in the pools of large fountains to cool off. It still held much of it’s former glory of the Peron days, when it must have been stunning with its rich French architecture and broad avenues.

Today, Argentina is a new country. The buildings have aged ungracefully throughout the town, sagging under the weight of Argentina’s troubles. Graffiti shouts from walls and statues “Duhalde (the President) is corrupt)” and “Banks out!”, a reference to the foreign banks, which play such a big role in this place. At the beginning of 2002, the peso was pegged to the US dollar at a 1 to 1 exchange rate. This made it very expensive to visit here, but propped up the economy somewhat.

To make a long economics lesson short (trying to learn it myself in Spanish is hard, and I probably have it wrong anyway), the banks somehow convinced the government to break the peg rate, and $1.00 is now worth about 3.10 pesos. For tourists, this is great. Kim and I spend an average of $12 on dinner for two, including drinks and tip. A great sirloin plate of world famous Argentinean beef costs $8-9. But what’s cheap for us is expensive for locals. For years, foreign banks have increasingly controlled this country. They issue many home loans in hard currency $, while Argentineans are paid in pesos. So when the peso devalued, the people were quite simply at a loss for any solution. Imagine if you can your mortgage tripling overnight, the cost of gas and food going up 30-40%, and your wages increasing by about US$300 per month (it’s the same increase, no matter what your salary level) to compensate. Could you survive? The answer is no, but you have no choice but to try.

That is where Argentina is today, the beautiful “Pink House”, home to the President, is surrounded by large grates where Federal Officers patrol to keep out their own people. We watched the freeway shut down completely by a parade of protesters, walking peacefully, aware of how little else there is to do. And on a cab ride from the Airport, our driver sped by the Pink House, “flipping it off” in South American fashion (with the bent arm upraised, not the finger). And he was a god-fearing man, as we saw two seconds later as he crossed himself in front of the Basilica.

This is a beautiful country. We visited the falls of Iguazu, (which are the largest in the world and dwarf Niagara) and were simply amazed by the beauty. We watched the tango in the clubs of Buenos Aires, which is still fiery and passionate. It is hard, however, to visit without feeling for the people. In April, they elect a new President. The major contender is the former President Menem, who was accused of corruption in a big scandal that saw him kicked out of office once before, so perhaps he would not be greater than Duhalde. Regardless of who wins, the country has defaulted on $50 billion in debt to the IMF/World Bank, and has little hope of recovering to the point of prosperity anytime soon.

Argentineans once traveled to places like the US and Canada. Now, it is just a dream. A plane ticket to the US now costs one years wages for most folks. (average monthly salary is $100-$150) They stay at home and dream smaller. Fatima, a porteno, as locals are called, works in the tourist information booth. We met her to ask about buying airline tickets to Iguazu Falls. She sent us to an agency “she knew” that would help us out. Later, as we were sitting in line to buy tickets, she came in to buy tickets herself, for her vacation with her 8 year old son Lucas to Sao Paulo, Brazil. She was so happy we listened to her advice on coming to the agency, that we talked nonstop for quite a while. She talked about going to Sao Paolo, which costs about a $100 ticket per person, and how it was the most extravagant trip she could imagine. She has friends there to stay with, so she found time for a vacione after a whole year of trabajo (work) nearly every day.

While this type of vacation is familiar to many Americans today, traveling internationally puts Fatima in a very select group of portenos. On the other side of the tracks, literally, past the central train station, large shanty towns fill the lowlands between the downtown centro district and the outlying “Gran Beunos Aires” (mostly urban sprawl). The families living in this area simply get by, hopefully getting one of the new president’s “works project” jobs cleaning one of the city’s many beautiful parks, putting food on the table when they can.

For visitors from the States, one thing is abundantly clear. The people love the U.S. here, even though you can see graffiti on the walls of President Bush in Mickey Mouse ears over the words “Disney War”. Go to the movies, and you’ll see “El Senor de los Annilos – Le Dos Torres” and “Otra Dia Para Morir”. Yes Tolkein and Bond are as popular here as at home. Martin, another porteno we met, loves everything U.S., especially Elvis. His dream is to go to Graceland, just like a few other people I know. He also dreams of owning a 1970’s Corvette. Or at least he did until he learned they cost about nine years of his wages. Now, he dreams of just being able to drive one someday. Everywhere we went, portenos echoed Martin’s thoughts. I told him we love Argentina as much as he loves our country. We really do.

E-Ticket Cab rides

Almost every traveler in America today is familiar with an E-ticket, used to travel by air from here to there without a silly piece of paper to slow you down. But how many remember “E tickets”, those precious paper gems that sped you up in the days when Mr. Walt Disney ruled our dreams, and Space Mountain was the only place most kids wanted to fly with their E-tickets. The phrase is burned into the mind of anyone now approaching middle-age or older – “An E Ticket Ride”! In Beunos Aires, you can relive these childhood adventures, just jump in into the taxicab of Osvaldo.

When we got in, Osvaldo looked over his shoulder, smiling a broad grin under the bright sky through the open sunroof. His bald head is well tanned, and he looks happy, bouncing to a little tune in his head. He starts your ride by asking you in his best Spanish if you want a little ambient musica, courtesy of the Rolling Stones. Of course, music is part of any high thrill ride, so we agreed. Saying “Si” obviously told Osvaldo we wanted the exciting ride, so he slid in the CD and cranked the volume. Darting around cabs, cars, and mopeds, he displayed the local tradition of using white lane lines as more of a suggestion than any sort of requirement. It was obvious he was a professional cabbie, because more than once we came up to a light, sliding in between to stopped cars with only an inch or so per side.

Osvaldo can also multi-task better than a Silicon Valley secretary after downsizing. He flipped CD’s to Supertramp’s “A Long Way Home”, pulled out a harmonica, and drove on, giving us a one-of-a-kind musical treat as he sped around the city center, racing buses and chasing pedestrians. He kept everything in motion, one hand on the wheel, one on the gearshift, one on the harmonica. He looked like the juggler in the jester hat we saw performing in the crosswalk at red lights, working for loose change and a laugh.

Obviously, this was too big a challenge, so he stopped and flipped over to AC-DC’s classic, “For those about to rock, we salute you”, and relaxed a little, telling us about his life. He talked quite a bit about being a flyfishing instructor and enjoying trips out on his boat. We of course understood nothing of his high-speed melodic sing-song Spanish tale, so he turned completely around in the middle of driving to pull his card out of his wallet to explain and found pictures of his boat to share with us, a red Zodiac with an appropriately large motor to scare the fishes out of the water, like he scares fellow drivers in his path.

When at last we landed at our hotel, we were happy to be pedestrians again, but happier for the memory we gained of the newest E Ticket attraction, “Osvaldo’s Wild Ride”. I’ll never listen to Supertramp again without finding myself lost in a very Beunos Aires daydream.

The Soul of Buenos Aires

To a porteno, Tango is more than dancing, it is an expression of their passionate personalities, played out in a mixed display that floats instantly between rigid statuesque movements and fluid twirling like a too hot fire in a too small fireplace. No place is better to see this energy than at “Almacen”, in the heart of the barrio of San Telmo.

The San Telmo district was named after the saint, (San) Pedro Gonzlaez Telmo, patron saint of the sailors who gave this barrio its reputation as a gritty working-class neighborhood. It is a beautifully rough neighborhood by day, and the epicenter of Tango passion by night. As they begin the show at the Almacen, the men are wearing their best Zoot Suit attire, and the women are draped in liquid dresses that show every curve. The musicians begin, slowly working their violins, accordions, and piano, bringing the dancers together. Dueling according players raise the pitch, rocking their heads slightly, letting their long, black curly locks sway like kelp over their hard-breathing instruments. The dancers begin like young couples, with lots of twirls and energy, making passionate eye contact when they come together, before pushing away into new maneuvers. As the night goes on, the dance looks more like a young married couple, serious and patterned, with each couple settling into familiar routines. By evening’s end, they are an old couple, stomping about competitively, showing each other who is the better dancer. By the time the last dancer drops into her final move, held stiffly by her partner an inch off the floor, the audience is as spent as the dancers. Saint Telmo would be proud.