Bolivia
To Buenos Aires
On The Road ~ by Mark
McMahon
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| Now there's some contrast
for ya. From least developed to most sophisticated. From a bumpy
dirt road to Avenida Nueve de Julio, the widest street in the world with
eighteen lanes!
I crossed the border into Argentina
late in the afternoon. Pavement had been a stranger to me. It felt like
I was in a hovercraft. The previous few days of washboard dirt roads had
been hard on my vehicle and my psyche. The driving can be dicey when the
wheels only contact the road 25% of the time. Vibration is not the
right word to describe the phenomena as it implies very small oscillations.
Violent and concentrated shaking is more like it. The feeling that fenders
and other car parts will soon be flying in all directions. And in fact,
some parts did let loose. Three different latches for the hood were rendered
useless so the hood flew up and rendered my windshield fractured! The cracks
are not in a visually significant area so I will carry on with the scar.
Smooth pavement. Lane lines. Drivers
who actually use their high-beams courteously. Civilization, what a pleasure!
One thing did seem out of character for the Argentine drivers: they are
ruthless about tailgating and passing. I was startled on several occasions,
doing 50 miles an hour, looking up in my rear-view mirror, and seeing someone
staring back at me, so close I could count nose hairs, literally inches
between bumpers. |
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I was in awe of another highway
scene that unfolded before my eyes. On a two-lane highway four tiny compact
cars were bunched up tightly behind a semi. I was #5 hanging back in amazement
and for my safety. All four were rapidly bobbing and weaving into the oncoming
lane looking for their opportunity to pass. They were so close together
and darting so quickly it looked like a video game come to life! When the
chance arrived, all four went for it at once, two of them effectively drag
racing head to head in the oncoming lane.
The first night I made it to the
town of Jujuy. (Say hoo hooey. Say it again: HOOO HOOOOEY. Once more now,
like an overly optimistic owl: WHOO WHOOOEY!) How could you take
yourself seriously if you were from there? Hi, I'm Mark and I'm from Hoo
Hoooey.
Jujuy turned out to be a great introduction
to the country. I smelled burning rubber my first morning in Argentina.
Piles of tires burning in the street. I approached the scene with trepidation.
I wanted to get up close for some photos. What was this all about? It wasn’t
violent. It seemed like a casual gathering. Almost friendly.
I got some photos. No one paid much
attention to me. I relaxed a little bit and started asking questions. I
talked to the fire tender. He had a truck full of old tires. When one of
the three blazes got low, he would toss another log’ on the fire. I watched
the apparent leader of the group get interviewed by Channel Two, the local
TV station.
It was about Argentina's current
financial crisis. Everyone is broke. The protest was organized by a local
political group trying to get their message heard nationally. The fires
were in the middle of an intersection. Police had closed the streets all
around, about a block away on each side. It seemed to be business as usual,
nobody getting too excited.
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On the way back to my
hotel I made a new friend. She was sitting in front of her shop enjoying
the morning sun and a cup of mate. With a bright green iguana on her shoulder,
she was obviously not shy nor avoiding attention. Moments later I met her
sister and her sisters' 5 year daughter. Very soon I was part of
the fabric of daily life on the streets of Jujuy, being introduced to all
of their friends and customers as if I was an old pal.
The two sisters, Sylvana and Valerie,
are the proprietors of a small lingerie shop. Victoria’s Secret with their
own distinct style and personality. The shop is called 'Gala' named after
Salvador Dali's famous model and mistress. The management of their business
couldn't be much more casual. Sylvana spent most of her time greeting and
chatting with passersby on the sidewalk. Once in while, one would inquire
about a product; she would direct them inside. They open at bout nine and
would shut down for a couple of hours midday for lunch and a nap. They
close around dark or "...whenever friends and customers would go home."
Valerie was only slightly more businesslike
than Sylvana. She seemed to be the managing partner, if you could call
her that. An enjoyable lifestyle seemed to take precedence over maximizing
profit. It was very refreshing. Valerie and I spent time talking about
poetry and publishing. She is a published author of three books of poetry
and a teacher at a nearby college.
The two sisters, the daughter and
a cousin took me out to lunch and on a tour of Jujuy. It was delightful.
I was part of the family after just a few hours. It was a quick dunk
into a very warm and friendly culture. And a great way to start my adventures
in Argentina. |
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It took two more days on the highway
to get to Buenos Aires. It was every thing I had heard. The Paris of South
America. Having never been to Paris I would personally call it a cross
between San Francisco and New York City. It's huge. It's beautiful. It
stays up all night. You can't buy a bad meal there.
I had some time to wander the streets
and read up on the history of Buenos Aires. Like any big city is has its
down side. Intertwined with its financial floundering is some history that
is much, much sadder. And the remnants of this chapter are very creepy.
As you sit in a cafe you can't help but wonder who could possibly be sitting
on your right and conversely (and perversely) who could be sitting on your
left.
I am referring to Argentina's Dirty
War of the late 70's. It was the 'ethnic cleansing' of the reigning regime.
It
was political rather than ethnic,
but you get the point. Between 20,000 and 30,000 people were 'disappeared'.
Many were tortured; many were drugged and dumped from airplanes into the
sea while still alive. Pregnant mothers were abducted and murdered after
giving birth. The babies were then 'adopted' by the perpetrators. Think
about the consequences of a 12 year old discovering his diabolical family
history.
Some of the architects of the cleansing
campaign were convicted then later PARDONED! All of the underlings who
carried out the deadly details were never tried based on the fact that
they were only following orders. To this day, the murderers walk the same
streets of Buenos Aires as the families of their victims!! Perhaps on my
right, maybe on my left...
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| I am staying at the
apartment of a friend in the Recoleta District in Buenos Aires. It is the
ritziest neighborhood in town. It is also the home of the ritziest cemetery
in all of Argentina. This is very important to Argentineans.
I have a little cemetery fetish. (Link: cemtery gallery) I like to wander
around and take pictures. Argentineans on the other hand, are full scale
perverted about them. The eternal home of your corpse is much more
important than where you rest your weary bones in life. Recoleta Cemetery
is a necropolis with maps and addresses. The streets are lined with miniature
cathedrals. The sculptures decorating the crypts are immense and all of
museum quality. You can peer into windows of crypt/cathedrals to see the
coffins of the countries forefathers and wealthy elite.
The only specific site I wanted to
visit was that of Eva 'Evita' Peron. This leads us to that part of her
history that was not covered in the Broadway Musical: Her afterlife adventures.
You see, she did quite a bit of traveling after her death. An opposing
political party eventually took power that did not want her gravesite becoming
a shrine. They took the body into hiding. She was then kidnapped by her
supporters and housed discretely in various attics throughout the city.
She was later shipped secretly overseas and buried in Rome. Eventually
she made another trans-Atlantic journey back to Buenos Aires and was finally
laid to rest in Ritzy Ricoleta, much to the chagrin of the wealthy elite
and her political enemies. In life Evita rallied for the poor and
very hard against the rich. They were not in the least bit fond of her
and it was the ultimate insult for her to be resting among their ancestors. |
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| For more
photos and details go to Mark's webpage FilmTrips.com.
Follow Mark on his mission: Driving from Tucson to Tierra del fuego. WHO
WANTS TO GO TO CUBA? Join Mark in Januray 2004. Find out about the FilmTrips.com
Self-Guided Tour Program. Click
Here. |
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