Maddy's Travels

Argentina is such a friendly place (muy amable la gente).  The pharmacy I bought toothpaste in one day remembered me and greeted me with a huge smile, “Buen Dia” three days later when I stopped by for some other small thing.  As I passed by on my final day, I was greeted with kisses and when will you return and “suerte” (luck) – the most often heard expression in the country.  “Have a good trip – suerte”, “enjoy your dinner - suerte”, I hope you find the socks you’re looking for – suerte”.

 

Speaking of socks, I had lots of “suerte”.  The Argentine gals are sporting some pretty wild legs, most apropos for my new tango outfits.  There were little hosiery stores on every block – the few I frequented would greet me back the next day.  “Did the size 2 fit – would you like more?”  I would ask, “Do you have any more of such and such a pattern?”  “No, we have no more of that pattern.  I hope you can find them somewhere – “suerte”.

 

The day after I’d worn my new celery green satin pants with shirring on the side, I stopped by the store to tell its’ owner how much I enjoyed them and was invited to drink “mate cocido”.  Before I’d gone to Argentina, a young Argentine co-worker of mine was talking ecstatically about mate cocido.  To this day, I don’t get it.  “Mate cocido” is a tea bag.  The ritual of drinking “yerba mate” is another story – a ritual akin to smoking a peace pipe.  A “mate” (a gourd) is filled about 2/3 with “yerba” (special tea leaves), hot water is poured over the leaves, a little sugar as desired.  The person in possession of the “mate” drinks the entire contents through a special “bombilla” (straw) that strains the herb.  After the “mate” has been drained, the straw is wiped off, the server pours more hot water and sugar as desired and passes the yerba mate to the next person who also must drain it.  The same “yerba” is used the entire session, each time becoming a little weaker.  One must never say “gracias” until they are done and don’t wish to be passed the “mate” again.  I drank yerba mate and had dinner with a lovely Argentine couple and their son that my friend Sarah had met earlier in her travels.  Sarah, my “lovely” young friend from New Zealand calls everyone “lovely”.  Poor girl – her last name is “Lee”.  The cake by that name did not exist in New Zealand when she was born.  I now wear a Maori fishing hook she gave me (symbol of good luck) around my neck and have already been mistaken for someone from that place so far off my radar screen.

 

Sarah and Alysa from Michigan were my main tango buddies.  Though we were in different level classes, we hung out at the nighttime “Milongas” (dances), shows, dinners and exhibitions that were part of the “Festival De Tango”.  They are the ones that saw me through an “almost” Tango Romance, thwarted by a 25 year old French girl.  The one that lead to this note, furtively slipped into a pocket, “Do you know how much it hurts to be kissed one night in a taxicab and be ignored the next day?  The Tango is a DANGEROUS dance!”  Who doesn’t love a good drama?  That’s the TANGO for you!  I am a far more improved tango dancer for that turn of events.  He wasn’t a very good dancer.  The tango etiquette in Buenos Aires is strict.  The two nights I was seen dancing with “almost romance man” too much, I simply didn’t get other invitations. 

 

It’s all very confusing – who dances with who and how the connection is made.  The night I was ‘seen’ dancing with a very good dancer, I should have received many invitations, but didn’t.  A woman is supposed to somehow invite the man to invite her to dance by making eye contact across the room.  The man nods and comes across the room.  I tried to figure out to whom and how this was occurring, but rarely did.  If he wears eyeglasses, he sets them on her table and leads her to the dance floor.  A little social chit chat must occur during the three dances in the set.  I was frequently asked “Where did you learn Castellano?”  I didn’t know I spoke Castellano.  I thought I spoke Spanish.  Another one “De donde sos?” – a special Argentine way of saying “where are you from”.  Sometimes one had to appear so interested in the chit chat that the music would begin and the dancers would start moving around us before we embraced and began our dance.  After the last dance in the set, the man would then escort his partner back to her table.  If he was a good dancer, he would have ended the dance right at her table.  I loved my dance with a rather large Porteno (as are called people from Argentina).  It was great practice to keep my axis straight without collapsing over his belly.  

 

All this chit chat seemed a bit of a nuisance to me – I just wanted to dance.  As it was explained to me, if you’re going out for five hours in an evening, who actually wants to dance all the time?  I for one would.  What I’d really like would be to consolidate the dancing, skip the chatting, and go to bed before 3 in the morning (on an early night).  When do Argentines sleep anyway?  Dinner is never before 10:00pm and the cafes are full at 3:00am.  During the festival, we had 3 to 4 hours of class a day, city tours, dinner/tango show extravaganzas with dancing afterwards beginning around 12:30am, ending (so I’m told) at 6:00am.

 

One solution was the afternoon tea dances, beginning around 4:00pm, ending around 9:00pm.  One could create some semblance of normalcy around these dances except for the ubiquitous partner selection situation.  Sometimes I felt I was staring, did I then just avert my eyes before actual contact was made?  Why did that fat lady get invited to dance so much more than me?  I didn’t begrudge her – I’m sure she has enough problems, but she didn’t even dance as well as me.

 

Buenos Aires is a city where cab drivers believe the lines are painted in the road for them to straddle.  The Avenue “9 de Julio” is 20 lanes wide.  Scarier than crossing by foot was being in a cab with a driver in or in between every one of those lanes.

 

Maybe all the red meat they eat makes them aggressive on the road.  It sure is good stuff, enjoyed best standing at a dive-y lunch counter where it is roasting and grilling in front of your eyes.  Huge slabs of beef and sausages are stuffed in a thick crusty bread, served with beer (litre size), costing a whopping US$2.  A bottle of good Argentine wine at dinner costs less than a glass of it in the U.S.  And what of the hamburgers, served open face with ham, cheese and a fried egg on top?  I’m told the average Argentine eat s 200 grams (about 7oz) of meat a day, unless he’s at a parilla (barbecue), when that could increase significantly.  Still, I didn’t see many overweight people and I figured out their secret.  People NEVER walk around eating – not even ice cream cones.  I’d like to publish these findings and make lots of money from them so I can go back very soon to Argentina and dance the tango.