Sometimes you have a feeling that things are not going to be straight forward. Getting on board the cargo boat has been mine for some time now. We have got our presence in Buenos Aires recognised again but it took an email rerouted via offices in London and Germany to get it. Captain Krapp and the local Operations Manager now know of our existence but still are unable or unwilling to tell us when and where the boat will arrive. More phone calls today raised the blood pressure as one hangs on and then is cut off with concerning regularity. Daniel the owner of CP after suffering the same fate on our behalf managed to establish that the boat might arrive between 3 and 4 pm Friday and might then depart during the night Friday /Saturday morning but we still don't know where from or when for embarkation formalities etc etc etc! Friday night could be, fraught and sleepless!
Re-visited the Malba Art exhibition today (Wednesda) with our copy passports to the ready to get the pensioners discount only to find it was free today - a bonus visit. I went to hear more music but got side tracked watching a 1920 silent film, I think produced in France of the inquisition of Joan of Arc. The interplay of faces cut between inquisitors and the Maid was for me remarkable cinema to compare with Bunuel. Then more music of the early 20th Century with its simplicity of sound. Digitised and enlarged prints of the same Buenos Aires street in the 1910's, 20's and 30's demonstrated the wealth of this part of the city at those time before the depression bit.
An aide memoir for future visits always carry a copy passport and a multi function sink plug.
Sine we said goodbye to 2008 we knew things would speed up until we had to say goodbye to BA. We drew up a list of "Must see and Must do" and have crammed in as much as we can. This always takes so much longer than we plan since we frequently get lost even though we were assured "BA is easy - the city is based on a grid system!!! We return each evening tired and wearing damp clothes. Showers and glasses of chilled water are certainly essential.
So Brian has told of our re-visit to the Malba Art Exhibition but on Sunday morning I wanted to see art of an entirely different sort. The artist Marino Santa Maria with his collaborators transformed an ordinary street of houses, Lanin Street into a place of colour and interest. They used mosaic and paint over a four year period with each house independently treated to its own special artistry. We had missed a small sign and walked round several blocks in the wrong direction. We stopped a young mum with her son, when after a good 5 mins she could not help us, she phoned a friend - her husband "He will know" but he was engaged on the phone. The roundabout route to find this road took us through some of the poorest areas we have seen. Here people were living in derelict garages and a not uncommon site was a person or youngster sleeping on a mattress under a railway bridge or the like. We still didn't feel threatened albeit the guide book subsequently was read and advised against the route we took.
The saga of the falso dinero was concluded as far as we are concerned as we visited the Tourist Police to be squeezed into the back of a small police car, Corsa sized, together with three officers to visit the Police Station nearest to the Japanese Gardens to make a statement of events. This probably took about 3 hours in all but was an interesting insight into the workings of this part of the police service, very friendly and informal. Seemingly the statement will be placed before a magistrate and the instigator of the fraud interviewed to see if the case is to be pursued. Hopefully this might be a deterent to the scam being tried on others. We too are wiser now. HSBC in Cabildo contended that their systems couldn't possibly be at fault in discharging false money from an ATM. Time constraints do not allow us to pursue that here but we have a statement from them acknowledging our complaint and it will be pursued on our return to England.
My patchwork friends (this is Irene writing!) will be delighted to know that at last, with the help of our tango teacher, stepped over the threshold of a fabric emporium. Although Argentina produces many cotton items there is a dearth of good quality fabric for patchwork. BUT just a few blocks away Eureka!!! Once I had explained I was a patchworker Vivien, behind the counter, practically hugged me. Brian took a seat as Vivien produced piles of fabric pieces 2ft/2ft.6" high. First the blues, made my choice, blues removed, pinks moved towards me and so on.. When a fellow Argentinian patchworker came in I was introduced with much kissing etc. The fabric - all from the USA worked out at about £2.50/metre. No fancy cutting board you decided how much you wanted and it was ripped free. We have Vivien on camera and I have to e.mail her a picture of te finished quilt; not sure she knows how long that will take!!! My head is full of the colours here; the way the women dress, the exhibitions, the houses in San Telmo, La Bocca,and Lanin Street plus the planting in the various Plaza.
So today (Thursday) we believe is our last full day(still not confirmed). We had our last tango lesson yesterday and despite many fraught moments feel much more confident to visit a Norwich Milonga. We will discover today if our cases will hold an ever increasing load! We have arranged for our luggage to be collected in Valencia and sent home relieving us for a comfortable journey to Madrid Paris and home - the details of which we do not know.
Wednesday, 7 January 2009
Sunday, 4 January 2009
Buyer beware
We had been warned! 'Falso dinero'; one gets blase. We get hit twice, once surprisingly from a HSBC ATM which we vainly hope will be rectified on Monday and less surprisingly from an ice cream kiosk in the Japanese Gardens. Irene, as you know, never one to not confront the devious and sly, steams back there yesterday but the person concerned not there and others shiftily deny any knowledge or responsibility. Not a happy conclusion and a waste of time, but they will squirm and deny in their own inner self, the tourist police also now alerted.
We are now sorrowfully aware that our time in BA is coming to an end. We have made a list of "Must See and Must Do" - and so we start.
Two very worthwhile exhibitions have been visited both of contemporary artists and musicians from Argentina and other nearby South American states. The qualities were so often amazing, sometimes politically, sometimes it's colour, shade, shape or luminosity, the music rakes the heart. Some archive music from the early 20th century held me transfixed and real anger was aroused from other painted scenes. I (Irene) stood absolutely transfixed, accompanied with a young man before one particular painting spell bound at the artist's use of colour capturing this very unusual sunlight. The architecture here can be truly striking with so many gems of earlier times hidden in most unlikely streets. Then a visit to the house used by Eva Peron's Social Aid Foundation, some time as a women's refuge, it is now a museum which I found exceedingly interesting as much was contemporaneous with the time I (Brian) might have lived here and relevant to my childhood; toys, utensils, furniture, fashions and so much more. The similarity with Diana too seems to me so clear. I don't know whether or if Eva, used or was used and I would dearly like to have the time to discuss with our a friends at 'Meet and Chat' why there is, to say the very least, ambivalence towards the political philosophy of that time. Was it fascist leaning? Poverty was that spawning ground in pre-war Europe as it had been for communism too. Who was it that aided Franco in his beginnings? Argentina was undoubtedly a prosperous place following WW1 but undoubtedly too that wealth was inequitably shared. I must read much more on this.
We are now sorrowfully aware that our time in BA is coming to an end. We have made a list of "Must See and Must Do" - and so we start.
Two very worthwhile exhibitions have been visited both of contemporary artists and musicians from Argentina and other nearby South American states. The qualities were so often amazing, sometimes politically, sometimes it's colour, shade, shape or luminosity, the music rakes the heart. Some archive music from the early 20th century held me transfixed and real anger was aroused from other painted scenes. I (Irene) stood absolutely transfixed, accompanied with a young man before one particular painting spell bound at the artist's use of colour capturing this very unusual sunlight. The architecture here can be truly striking with so many gems of earlier times hidden in most unlikely streets. Then a visit to the house used by Eva Peron's Social Aid Foundation, some time as a women's refuge, it is now a museum which I found exceedingly interesting as much was contemporaneous with the time I (Brian) might have lived here and relevant to my childhood; toys, utensils, furniture, fashions and so much more. The similarity with Diana too seems to me so clear. I don't know whether or if Eva, used or was used and I would dearly like to have the time to discuss with our a friends at 'Meet and Chat' why there is, to say the very least, ambivalence towards the political philosophy of that time. Was it fascist leaning? Poverty was that spawning ground in pre-war Europe as it had been for communism too. Who was it that aided Franco in his beginnings? Argentina was undoubtedly a prosperous place following WW1 but undoubtedly too that wealth was inequitably shared. I must read much more on this.
Thursday, 1 January 2009
New Year a time to reflect.
Last night saw us at the family supper with most of the Caseron guests sitting in the garden on an unusually chilly and windy evening, such that at midnight sweaters were worn as champagne toasts were drunk and greetings made in Spanish, Dutch, German and English. We went onto the roof garden as fireworks erupted in the sky above. Inhibitions lost tango dancing continued into the night.
New Years Day morning, 'phone calls made thanks to Skype including a video link with Alex; how small the world has become with the internet.
New Years give a space to reflect and resolve and this year, more so, away from the habitual; to recognise the sameness of every one's needs, fears and ambitions and unlearn the rest.
Irene's special friend Jenny (Lleni) leaves Caseron today for a new job which is sad, they get on so well. She wants to keep in contact so I will have to keep practicing my Spanish as she speaks very little English. Irene and Lleni perform the same linguistic ritual each morning on meeting - Spanish first, then English added, then the mixture stirred, concluding in much laughter and lots of hugs. I must also soon write a letter to our friends from Santa Fe as the email addresses we exchanged keep failing.
We are now 3/4 way through our time in BA and one knows the rest will fly by. I wont need to go searching through records now to know 'what if', that was another time, I know all that I need to know, some nature, some nurture, Buenos Aires is a place in which some very special people we have got to know live.
New Years Day morning, 'phone calls made thanks to Skype including a video link with Alex; how small the world has become with the internet.
New Years give a space to reflect and resolve and this year, more so, away from the habitual; to recognise the sameness of every one's needs, fears and ambitions and unlearn the rest.
Irene's special friend Jenny (Lleni) leaves Caseron today for a new job which is sad, they get on so well. She wants to keep in contact so I will have to keep practicing my Spanish as she speaks very little English. Irene and Lleni perform the same linguistic ritual each morning on meeting - Spanish first, then English added, then the mixture stirred, concluding in much laughter and lots of hugs. I must also soon write a letter to our friends from Santa Fe as the email addresses we exchanged keep failing.
We are now 3/4 way through our time in BA and one knows the rest will fly by. I wont need to go searching through records now to know 'what if', that was another time, I know all that I need to know, some nature, some nurture, Buenos Aires is a place in which some very special people we have got to know live.
What a difference a day makes.
Our visit to Colonia in Uruguay was a real step back in time and a change of culture. A small coastal town colonised and fortified by the Portuguese before coming under Spanish control. The place well preserved/restored, albeit obviously now a tourist trap but quiet and calm with a small towns pace to life; a time to savour.
We had taken an early, for us, Subte ride into Buenos Aires dockland area accompanied by a small brown and white dog that joined the tube train at the next stop and then purposefully walked down the coaches obviously intent on getting a seat near his future exit point. No one batted an eyelid!
The ferry terminal reminiscent of an airport required much queuing but embarkation was quite painless. Irene by using her years of experience of jumble sales ensuring we got a pair of window seats. Amazing, one minute with me at the back of the surging throng and then, at the front, unruffled, triumphantly bagging two of the last remaining window seats. The same on our return trip although that was not so spectacular as that vessel was not fully booked. It must be like a ferret scenting blood! The 3 hour ferry trips restful and generally uneventful other than on each leg of the journey there was a half hour demonstration of Tango dancing the like of which we had never seen, beautiful, sensuous, the story of life told in dance, real theatre. To see such an ordinary young couple in T shirts and jeans at the coffee bar afterwards made the performances even more poignant. The airline like nature of our ferry trips was again high lighted on the return trip as the ferry had to 'stack', circle, aircraft like whilst 5 other vessels left Buenos Aires docks via what must be a very narrow deep water channel. That added another hour to our return leg. There was some compensation however as we were able to jump, un-noticed onto a 152 colectivo waiting at traffic lights with access door conveniently left wide open, and get a back facing seat so Irene could not see her always anticipated death and destruction in head on collision on these always speedy mid-night bus rides. One something in the morning to bed; what has happened to my horlicks time?
We had taken an early, for us, Subte ride into Buenos Aires dockland area accompanied by a small brown and white dog that joined the tube train at the next stop and then purposefully walked down the coaches obviously intent on getting a seat near his future exit point. No one batted an eyelid!
The ferry terminal reminiscent of an airport required much queuing but embarkation was quite painless. Irene by using her years of experience of jumble sales ensuring we got a pair of window seats. Amazing, one minute with me at the back of the surging throng and then, at the front, unruffled, triumphantly bagging two of the last remaining window seats. The same on our return trip although that was not so spectacular as that vessel was not fully booked. It must be like a ferret scenting blood! The 3 hour ferry trips restful and generally uneventful other than on each leg of the journey there was a half hour demonstration of Tango dancing the like of which we had never seen, beautiful, sensuous, the story of life told in dance, real theatre. To see such an ordinary young couple in T shirts and jeans at the coffee bar afterwards made the performances even more poignant. The airline like nature of our ferry trips was again high lighted on the return trip as the ferry had to 'stack', circle, aircraft like whilst 5 other vessels left Buenos Aires docks via what must be a very narrow deep water channel. That added another hour to our return leg. There was some compensation however as we were able to jump, un-noticed onto a 152 colectivo waiting at traffic lights with access door conveniently left wide open, and get a back facing seat so Irene could not see her always anticipated death and destruction in head on collision on these always speedy mid-night bus rides. One something in the morning to bed; what has happened to my horlicks time?
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