Thursday 24th: I met Ruben in the hostel, a Columbian I thought (maybe incorrectly) was here for a soccer coaching course. Later, his team of "Under 16s" boys would arrive at the hostel. He is a friendly person, and his energetic demeanour matches his profession, a school PE (physical education) teacher. His English was comparable to my Spanish (that´s not a compliment)! Alvaro, on shift at the hostel reception, translated my interest in seeing a soccer game to Ruben. I´ve been told not to go alone. Ruben said he´d let me know.
On some day, I visited the northern part of San Telmo. The Santo Domingo church was very interesting, and well worth a visit. I had wandered in with Cristina on an earlier day. I took some photos inside, tiptoeing around and with the flash turned off for respect. As I walked out, a man came up to me and asked if I was taking pictures. Yes I was, I apologised, but am not any more! I thought he was confronting me, because of his close proximity and square-on stance, and the glare behind him made him hard to see. But it turned out he wanted to be my guide! He took me back into the church and pointed out the tattered, dirty, 200 year-old flags seized during the recapture of Buenos Aires after a brief British invasion. The church also has the tomb of Manuel Belgrano, one of the main "liberators" of Argentina. Outside, cannonballs embedded in one section of the tower have been preserved. The man, Guillermo, handed me his card. He had made the sign of the cross as he entered and exited the church.
Politics is more prominent here than in Australia. Major streets and plazes are named for the revered "liberators", or the date of various battle victories (the main street translates as "9th of July Avenue"). There are noisy demonstrations in central places. Both Cristina (as informed by her family) and another told me these are performances put on by the government. There is loud drumming as well as sign waving and movement, but it is very "civil" so to speak. The girl at the hostel who´d lived in Cambridge claimed many young people are interested in politics here.
The nearby church of San Ignacio de Loyola, named after the Jesuits´ founder, was a crisp white building and scenic. I also saw the San Francisco church, run by the Franciscan Order of monks apparently. By the way, the Congressional Palace near my hostel is an incredible sight of European architecture.
In the late afternoon I had an interesting chat with Monica who works at the hostel. She has an interesting arty haircut, and is originally from Prague in the Czech Republic, which I visited with James and two German friends in 2005. She has lived in Spain and now Latin American countries for 7 years, and has fluent Spanish and English also. I talked a little too long, hastily wrote down some Spanish phrases with her help, then rushed off for dinner.
I had just been in contact with Miki, an acquaintance from Australia, who to my surprise is living in Buenos Aires with her husband Chris! They and friends were going out for dinner in Quilmes and invited me. I was interested to hear their experiences living in Argentina. I was to meet their friends at a hostel, and share a taxi with them. I saw the street name at the edge of my map and headed off. However it was much further than I expected, and there was no hotel sign at the number. Although concerned, I figured it was possibly the right place because many hostels are subtle, for safety reasons perhaps. Eventually it was clear I had missed the arrangement. (I later looked it up, and the street I was following had merged onto a major street, and then unknown to me, this street had restarted a block to the side, very disjointed!)
I felt bad about missing the group, stressed from the failed rush, and expected I would spend the evening alone. I admit I was hot, from wearing a jumper in the heat without a t-shirt because my clothes were being washed (sorry to my brother Will, who owns the jumper!) The hostel said the laundry service would return my clothes by the afternoon, or 7pm at the latest, but this did not happen... I have minimal clothing because I intend to buy local clothing later, once I get out of Buenos Aires which is apparently more trendy than the norm. I listened to my guidebook´s recommendation to "take half the clothes, and twice the money, that you think you will need", and learned from my Europe trip with my brother James where we lugged too much stuff around for 3 whole months.
My route home took me past the bookshop, and behind the locked door were Andrea, as well as her sister Ianina and their friend German whom I soon met! It was great to run into friends. Ianina had fair English, so the two of us talked while the group shared mate, my first, drunk from a little cup/pot with a metal straw. They were going out for dinner and invited me, and of course I accepted. We went to Plaza Dorrego with the chairs, tables, and free tango; which by now I recognised well. The others shared one pizza between them. I didn´t understand their communal ordering style, so ordered a salad for myself which we all then shared. I appreciated the company. We walked back to where the sisters´ dad was waiting, along with another sister (there are 8 kids or something crazy like that). I had a great chat with him, a friendly person. We spoke both Spanish and English, both struggling mightily with one another´s language. He successfully communicated that he had played in a military band in the 1970s when the political drama was occurring, but since played in a civilian band. Ianina was surprised that we had managed to communicate these details! It was great to end a mixed evening on such a high note.
No comments:
Post a Comment