So I hired a taxi dancer named Louis on the recommendation of a fellow tango dancer. Louis turned out to be very young, handsome and enthusiastic. However, our age difference warranted some kind of story, so I made one up.
I told Louis, if anyone asked, tell them this: Many years ago on a visit to Argentina, I was seduced by a gaucho. It was dark. I was young. The result was him. Reluctantly, I gave him up for adoption and returned home. Now, I've returned to Argentina to find my long lost son. And tonight, my son is sharing his love of tango with his long lost mother.
Louis and I went to Salon Canning on a Monday night. I figured it would be a slow night and we could dance on a fairly empty floor. It was like walking into the Minnesota State Fair on a sunny Saturday.We couldn't move without getting elbowed or stepped on. Such a shame! And not a cheap night either.
But a mother will do anything for her son.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Monday, January 11, 2010
Turn Right at the Cow
Paraguay ... I just spent a week there in the poorer parts of the city visiting a friend.
Some impressions:
A beggar kneeling on the center line of a busy highway
Horses pulling fruit and vegetable carts
A dirty child sleeping on the steps of a major department store
So many mango trees the fruit lies rotting in people's yards
Finding a residence at night by the black and white cow in the yard ("turn right at the cow.")
An insect called the cigara that makes a loud noise like the sound of an alien with it's appendage caught in a spaceship door
Heat so thick you can swim in it
City roads so rutted and uneven, an all terraine vehicle would be the ideal mode of transportation
Open and friendly people: being invited to an asado (cook out) by a couple on a bus ... sharing a bean lunch with a poor widow.
Green, lush vegetation ... like Hawaii without the ocean
Beautiful cotton dresses made of organic cotton with intricate embroidery and crochet
Dogs, dogs and more dogs
Families on motorcycles ... one family of parents and two kids with no helmets and NO LIGHTS driving on a major highway at night
My friend having to take her porch chair in everytime she leaves so it won't get stolen
Some impressions:
A beggar kneeling on the center line of a busy highway
Horses pulling fruit and vegetable carts
A dirty child sleeping on the steps of a major department store
So many mango trees the fruit lies rotting in people's yards
Finding a residence at night by the black and white cow in the yard ("turn right at the cow.")
An insect called the cigara that makes a loud noise like the sound of an alien with it's appendage caught in a spaceship door
Heat so thick you can swim in it
City roads so rutted and uneven, an all terraine vehicle would be the ideal mode of transportation
Open and friendly people: being invited to an asado (cook out) by a couple on a bus ... sharing a bean lunch with a poor widow.
Green, lush vegetation ... like Hawaii without the ocean
Beautiful cotton dresses made of organic cotton with intricate embroidery and crochet
Dogs, dogs and more dogs
Families on motorcycles ... one family of parents and two kids with no helmets and NO LIGHTS driving on a major highway at night
My friend having to take her porch chair in everytime she leaves so it won't get stolen
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Bach on a Bandoneon
Today, the day of New Years Eve, was a day of transportation adventures. I needed to take a long subway ride to a major bus terminal to purchase a ticket to Paraguay (more about that later).
When I arrived, there were, like, almost 200 bus ticket offices! It was the friggin' O'Hara of bus terminals ... I've never seen anything like it. It made me aware of how buses are how most people in South America travel.
I booked something called a "cama suite" and supposedly the seat reclines into a bed. With enough sedatives (luckily have some left over from my dental work), I should be able to get some sleep. It's an 18 hour trip but my friend in Asuncion assures me I will be comfortable.
Wanted to fly, but I waited too long to book and reasonably priced tickets were all sold out ... my usual modus operandi.
On the way home I had a mostly charming experience. A dread-locked man in the subway tunnel was playing the most exquisite Bach on a bandoneon, an instrument I've only heard played in tango music. I was utterly delighted.
While waiting for the train a man dressed as a santa came ambling through ... wrong holiday, tattered suit, and a truly repulsive rubber mask. And then, of course, he had to sit next to me. I called him "Creepy Claus," in my mind.
But when the train arrived, I stepped into another era. I was on the famous "A Line."
Built in 1913, the wooden cars rattled and the lights cast a vintage glow from their old fashioned fixtures. It reminded me of the little antique steamship the plys Lake Minnetonka back home.
Ah, home. A new year, a new country, a new life.
When I arrived, there were, like, almost 200 bus ticket offices! It was the friggin' O'Hara of bus terminals ... I've never seen anything like it. It made me aware of how buses are how most people in South America travel.
I booked something called a "cama suite" and supposedly the seat reclines into a bed. With enough sedatives (luckily have some left over from my dental work), I should be able to get some sleep. It's an 18 hour trip but my friend in Asuncion assures me I will be comfortable.
Wanted to fly, but I waited too long to book and reasonably priced tickets were all sold out ... my usual modus operandi.
On the way home I had a mostly charming experience. A dread-locked man in the subway tunnel was playing the most exquisite Bach on a bandoneon, an instrument I've only heard played in tango music. I was utterly delighted.
While waiting for the train a man dressed as a santa came ambling through ... wrong holiday, tattered suit, and a truly repulsive rubber mask. And then, of course, he had to sit next to me. I called him "Creepy Claus," in my mind.
But when the train arrived, I stepped into another era. I was on the famous "A Line."
Built in 1913, the wooden cars rattled and the lights cast a vintage glow from their old fashioned fixtures. It reminded me of the little antique steamship the plys Lake Minnetonka back home.
Ah, home. A new year, a new country, a new life.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
The New Detroit?
Dear Readers,
I will write again when I recover my equilibrium. I feel like the proverbial Mack truck has run over me as multiple events conspired to make Christmas a most challenging and emotional one.
The worst was when two nights before Christmas my 19-year-old son and his friend were robbed at gunpoint in my neighborhood. He only lost his inexpensive watch but he could have lost his life.
It seems as if guns have now entered Buenos Aires .... it did not seem so the last time I was here three years ago. The worst then? A pickpocket or purse taken from a chair.
Locals have told me there is corruption in the police force ... that there are those who not only turn the other way but actively participate in some of the crime. It's hard to believe. I used to be an editor on an American police enforcement magazine and I've always thought of cops as the good guys.
But despite a strong police presence on the street, thugs are using stronger methods to rob. Good people are angry.
How is Buenos Aires going to respond?
I will write again when I recover my equilibrium. I feel like the proverbial Mack truck has run over me as multiple events conspired to make Christmas a most challenging and emotional one.
The worst was when two nights before Christmas my 19-year-old son and his friend were robbed at gunpoint in my neighborhood. He only lost his inexpensive watch but he could have lost his life.
It seems as if guns have now entered Buenos Aires .... it did not seem so the last time I was here three years ago. The worst then? A pickpocket or purse taken from a chair.
Locals have told me there is corruption in the police force ... that there are those who not only turn the other way but actively participate in some of the crime. It's hard to believe. I used to be an editor on an American police enforcement magazine and I've always thought of cops as the good guys.
But despite a strong police presence on the street, thugs are using stronger methods to rob. Good people are angry.
How is Buenos Aires going to respond?
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Porteno Street Life
As I walk around this city I'm assailed by sights and sounds that both repel and seduce ....
Yesterday I walked by the street lady who sits at her usually stoop on busy Santa Fe. I've walked by her three times now, and am always affected by her wrinkly old doll face topped by curls and her little dog who never takes his eyes off her. I didn't realize she was a beggar until now. There's a bowl beside her but I can't figure out if it's for money or do I see water in there for the dog? Instead, I press a five peso note into her hand and she smiles and the dog lets me give him a pet.
Dogs are everywhere ... yesterday there was even a dog down in the subway, seemingly waiting for a train. Everytime one whooshed up and stopped, he started barking madly ... running up and down to each door, looking for someone. It was concerning. Did he follow his master to the trains without the owner knowing. Or did this occur everyday ... the dog sneaking through the turnstile to greet his master's return at a certain hour?
The other night a derelict man hovered on a step in a dark door way. He had a sandwich and was gnawing on it like an animal. He couldn't sit upright. It touched me deeply ... I'm not a religious person but in his humanity I saw God.
The people who collect cardboard from the garbage--and there are thousands combing every neighborhood--are hardworking souls. They sell the cardboard to recyclers and I'm sure they earn just enough to eat. They hand-pull huge carts piled high with the stuff and sometimes the families have their babies with them. How awful to have to go through garbage while people walk by ignoring you.
I suppose I should end with something pleasant ... maybe the fun of petting the cats in the Botanical Gardens? All sizes, all shapes, all colors, family tableaus of cat families with mom and dad grooming their kittens. Cats on benches, cats on statues, cats sleeping under exotic fauna. Which one would I choose to take home if I could?
Yesterday I walked by the street lady who sits at her usually stoop on busy Santa Fe. I've walked by her three times now, and am always affected by her wrinkly old doll face topped by curls and her little dog who never takes his eyes off her. I didn't realize she was a beggar until now. There's a bowl beside her but I can't figure out if it's for money or do I see water in there for the dog? Instead, I press a five peso note into her hand and she smiles and the dog lets me give him a pet.
Dogs are everywhere ... yesterday there was even a dog down in the subway, seemingly waiting for a train. Everytime one whooshed up and stopped, he started barking madly ... running up and down to each door, looking for someone. It was concerning. Did he follow his master to the trains without the owner knowing. Or did this occur everyday ... the dog sneaking through the turnstile to greet his master's return at a certain hour?
The other night a derelict man hovered on a step in a dark door way. He had a sandwich and was gnawing on it like an animal. He couldn't sit upright. It touched me deeply ... I'm not a religious person but in his humanity I saw God.
The people who collect cardboard from the garbage--and there are thousands combing every neighborhood--are hardworking souls. They sell the cardboard to recyclers and I'm sure they earn just enough to eat. They hand-pull huge carts piled high with the stuff and sometimes the families have their babies with them. How awful to have to go through garbage while people walk by ignoring you.
I suppose I should end with something pleasant ... maybe the fun of petting the cats in the Botanical Gardens? All sizes, all shapes, all colors, family tableaus of cat families with mom and dad grooming their kittens. Cats on benches, cats on statues, cats sleeping under exotic fauna. Which one would I choose to take home if I could?
Monday, December 7, 2009
Random Musings
So, today was the day I steeled myself to get a root canal. Ah, nothing instills confidence like a dentist who says, "Root canal? I do na no theese word." My health insurance rep ASSURED me there would be English speaking dentists at the clinic.
I had written out some phases in English to the effect that I needed an English speaking doctor and also a sedative. No way was I going to open my mouth until I got both. Dentists make me cry even before I get into the chair. As a child I had a sadistic dentist who didn't use Novacain, had a slow drill and hated children.
The matter got squared away when another dentist came into the room and said I would need a specialist and he would help me arrange an appointment. As for the sedative? Most dentists are not able to write prescriptions, that being a matter for a medical doctor. So another appointment must be made.
I must say I was relieved to forgo the root canal and instead took a taxi to Recoletta. I've never been there and I wanted to see the neighborhood that the guidebooks said " ... is just like Paris!"
My taxi driver didn't have change for 100 pesos I should have known this could happen ... I've been kicked out of cabs for not having smaller bills and a few weeks ago I had to break a $100 peso bill at a magazine stand while the driver waited. To get change, I bought a "futbol" magazine and gave it to the driver, so today is the second futbol magazine I've given to a cabbie. I imagine in the cabbie underground I'm known as a great pick up.
I wandered around Recoletta Cemetery, looking for Eva Peron's grave. Two South African airline pilots, here on a layover, led me to it, where fresh flowers and a small crowd marked the location.
Afterwards I shopped a bit, buying real polo shirts in a shop owned by a real polo player. I bought two--one for my son and one for his friend. Both arrive next Sunday to spend two weeks with me.
For myself I splurged and bought a little Italian style espresso maker--a good one. I live for my morning espresso and the cheap one I bought spews coffee all over the stove every morning because it doesn't screw together properly, plus I melted the handle.
The language still alludes me ... but I'm learning what not to say. For example a few weeks ago a taxi driver said to me, "Calor," which, because it sounds like "cooler," I assumed meant did I want the air conditioner on? "Si," I replied. "Caliente." Apparently, my Spanish teacher told me, in Latin America this means I'm feeling sexually hot.
Ah, well. Perhaps I am.
I had written out some phases in English to the effect that I needed an English speaking doctor and also a sedative. No way was I going to open my mouth until I got both. Dentists make me cry even before I get into the chair. As a child I had a sadistic dentist who didn't use Novacain, had a slow drill and hated children.
The matter got squared away when another dentist came into the room and said I would need a specialist and he would help me arrange an appointment. As for the sedative? Most dentists are not able to write prescriptions, that being a matter for a medical doctor. So another appointment must be made.
I must say I was relieved to forgo the root canal and instead took a taxi to Recoletta. I've never been there and I wanted to see the neighborhood that the guidebooks said " ... is just like Paris!"
My taxi driver didn't have change for 100 pesos I should have known this could happen ... I've been kicked out of cabs for not having smaller bills and a few weeks ago I had to break a $100 peso bill at a magazine stand while the driver waited. To get change, I bought a "futbol" magazine and gave it to the driver, so today is the second futbol magazine I've given to a cabbie. I imagine in the cabbie underground I'm known as a great pick up.
I wandered around Recoletta Cemetery, looking for Eva Peron's grave. Two South African airline pilots, here on a layover, led me to it, where fresh flowers and a small crowd marked the location.
Afterwards I shopped a bit, buying real polo shirts in a shop owned by a real polo player. I bought two--one for my son and one for his friend. Both arrive next Sunday to spend two weeks with me.
For myself I splurged and bought a little Italian style espresso maker--a good one. I live for my morning espresso and the cheap one I bought spews coffee all over the stove every morning because it doesn't screw together properly, plus I melted the handle.
The language still alludes me ... but I'm learning what not to say. For example a few weeks ago a taxi driver said to me, "Calor," which, because it sounds like "cooler," I assumed meant did I want the air conditioner on? "Si," I replied. "Caliente." Apparently, my Spanish teacher told me, in Latin America this means I'm feeling sexually hot.
Ah, well. Perhaps I am.
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Letter to My Tango Teacher
Hi Lois and David,
Hope you had a safe and semi-bearable trip home.
David, thanks for the homemade Baileys ... it was well worth the lugging, though I did grab a taxi eventually and I finally got an honest driver! But before I did I starting walking home and with the champagne buzz I went in the wrong direction and ended up in Palaremo Hollywood. At a park with dogs (and you know about me and dogs).
I sat down to pet a Great Dane, whose name was Luna. Luna expressed great interest in the steaks you gave me, which were in my bag. Luna's owner--a middle-aged man with a kind face--and I started talking in pidgeon English. I told my new acquaintance about David's homemade Bailey's and his eyes lit up. So I showed him my bottle and he had a taste.
"Ahhh, muy, muy bien!"
My new friend and I sat and watched the little green parrots flying about. It was early evening and Palermo Hollywood has a little bit of a suburban (in a good way)feel, the air fresher and with more trees and grass.
My new friend started philosophizing out loud in Spanglish ... something about there being one woman for each man (I think). And the universe being all one, and we are a part of the universe ... He did a lot of sighing and petting of Luna.
My cell phone rang and broke the reverie ... who could be calling me now that you're gone?
It was someone I had contacted about working on my computer notebook. I needed to go. Walking to a parked cab, I woke up the driver who was sleeping behind the wheel. As the taxi pulled away I waved out the back window to Luna and her owner. A little moment in time, neither one to be seen again.
Besos,
Vicki
Hope you had a safe and semi-bearable trip home.
David, thanks for the homemade Baileys ... it was well worth the lugging, though I did grab a taxi eventually and I finally got an honest driver! But before I did I starting walking home and with the champagne buzz I went in the wrong direction and ended up in Palaremo Hollywood. At a park with dogs (and you know about me and dogs).
I sat down to pet a Great Dane, whose name was Luna. Luna expressed great interest in the steaks you gave me, which were in my bag. Luna's owner--a middle-aged man with a kind face--and I started talking in pidgeon English. I told my new acquaintance about David's homemade Bailey's and his eyes lit up. So I showed him my bottle and he had a taste.
"Ahhh, muy, muy bien!"
My new friend and I sat and watched the little green parrots flying about. It was early evening and Palermo Hollywood has a little bit of a suburban (in a good way)feel, the air fresher and with more trees and grass.
My new friend started philosophizing out loud in Spanglish ... something about there being one woman for each man (I think). And the universe being all one, and we are a part of the universe ... He did a lot of sighing and petting of Luna.
My cell phone rang and broke the reverie ... who could be calling me now that you're gone?
It was someone I had contacted about working on my computer notebook. I needed to go. Walking to a parked cab, I woke up the driver who was sleeping behind the wheel. As the taxi pulled away I waved out the back window to Luna and her owner. A little moment in time, neither one to be seen again.
Besos,
Vicki
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