It's a beautiful day out there this morning. The sun is fully present, there are just bare wisps of clouds, and we all wait in anticipation for the high-teens the meteorologists have bestowed on / derived from the surrounding stratosphere. It is my last full day here, as for many here just for the 'fin de semena largo'. It is nice to be comfortable in the apartment and even dare to open the patio sliding door.
I went to a tango show last night. While I have prefer taking collectivos now because they are slightly more efficient and provide slightly more adventure, because I bought subway tickets I took the Subte to the show. In guidebooks and websites, the cost stated is 1.25. Like so many other things, the price has since doubled to 2.50 pesos somewhere in the interim.
The Subte experience begins with going down. Like other older subways, there is a smell. I think it is the same smell, but one would need to bottle it up and have some sort of comparative olfactory exhibition. At some point, there is a niche with statue of Mary. Sometimes there is a fresh-cut flower in a vase in it. There are not as many statues of Mary as in Italy, but they are certainly in the subways. The stations, being somewhat humane, always have someone selling tickets at a booth - there are no machines that might kindly correct your Spanish pronunciation. And on the oldest line, the A-Line, there are even hints of restrooms for 'cabelleros' and 'damas' on the platform. The oldest line is the oldest in Latin America, and even the trains are the same ones from that time. They are made of wood. I would like to think that we can still make trains and cars out of wood.
In the mornings, there is usually a woman with a large platter of snack food, for those on the run. Empanadas, it seems. Can't call these Cornish Pasties - that would be English, and all things English do not exist. This is an Argentinian Original and It Is To Be Called An Empanada.
Trains can be very packed. Indeed, it can be kind of a early morning, collective tango experience between people who wish to avoid one another, but are nevertheless very close. The air is dense. It is a good thing that no smoking is allowed on trains - nor all other public spaces, thankfully - the air itself seems to have enough combustible methane from dinners the previous night to provoke a true fire hazard. And, of course, it is cannot be stressed that having a shower in the morning before taking the train is providing a concrete public service.
Sometimes there is commercial activity or entertainment provide onboard. The seller has a box of goods - socks, cell phone cards, scissors, a guidebook to passing the driver's license test (those who cannot drive are highly likely to be on the train) - and puts one of these things on everyone's lap for inspection. Then he or she comes by to either pick them back up, or take money in exchange. I have seen less entertainment, but there was a small boy, about 6 years old, yesterday evening. It was eye-opening, to say the least. He was juggling five balls on the moving subway, plus he was taking care of a 2 year-old on top of that. Despite the economic drive of this country, there truly is poverty and destitution here. I have only scratched the surface in being able to understand how wide the economic divide is here. I have no photos of the shantyhomes I have seen here. If there wasn't laundry hanging, they would not seem like they were inhabited.
There are at least two time-zones here - one that starts in the late afternoon and goes to the next morning, and another (mine) that sees more daylight. This is because bars, milongas, clubs start at midnight. It is difficult, I gather, to shift from one to the other, as there is a jet lag of about 8-9 hours. Being a day-person, I often come back home to my station, Pueyrredon, at about 5 or 6. Just as I get out of the stairs, every now and again I am greeted with a sandwich board with the words 'Sex Shop' and an arrrow. Gone are the empanadas. Welcome DSK.
The tango show was, I must admit, very good. Very sexy and very skilled, with a very good live band. I liked the grand piano, which was an older one that had a very atmospheric, tinny sound. My favourite tango scene though was on the street. It was a beautiful older couple, who seemed like they were in their 80s, and who seemed to be having the time of their life inside their hearts and were making exquisitely joyful steps to match.
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