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FIRST A FEW FACTS *There are 3.5 million people in Buenos Aires, 12 million including the metropolitan area. *Literacy is nearly 97 percent, one of the highest in the Americas. *A 19th century
tidal wave of Italians, Basques, English, Irish, Welsh, Ukrainians, and
other nationalities has made Buenos Aires a mosaic of immigrants
Buenos Aires is a city made up of distinct barrios and I've chosen the Soho-like barrio of Palermo for my brief stay - Three Argentine airline attendants who fly between Buenos Aires and New York put their savings together and renovated the building, opening Che Lulu less than one one year ago. What would I llike to drink? Here's the computer - use it whenever you want. What can we do for you? What's life like for you? And so on. I feel immediately at home as if I've entered a womb of like-minded, same-aged friends. I toss my un-packed luggage on my bed and set out for a walk through the city to check its pulse. I teeter over its cobbled streets, in the shade of its sycamore trees, peek inside boutiques with the latest fashions, stop in a cafe for an espresso and empanada, look at the latest in furniture fashion. The women I notice, look like Penelope Cruz, perhaps a bit softer.. With its crumbling buildings and potholed roads, one gets the feeling of a city once great, which has suffered massive neglect. But with the emergence of boutiques, cafes, bars, and museums, one gets the sense of a city busy being reborn. Buenos Aires - she is an old, elegant woman with a Bohemian hat. Mojo and Frederick are entertaining friends tonight. Introductions go around, lots of air kisses, music, laughter and hilarity fill the house - and outside the steady drum of rain.They proudly show their friends each room in their guesthouse and then they gather around the dining table clinking champagne glasses and delivering toasts, " Buena suerte (good luck) in su trabajo (work), in su familia (family), y en su vida ( life.) I fall into bed early, the hearty laughter and conversation of friends ringing through the house. As I drop off to sleep, I am thinking that no matter how bad things get, or how destitute one becomes, if one has friends and the time to spend with them, one is rich. WHEN IT RAINS IN ARGENTINA At 2 AM I am
wide-awake though daylight is still hours away. The rain is hitting the
roof hard. I slip on a robe and go into the house to use the computer.
A groggy MaJo is working the night shift. We greet each other as I step
down into the anteroom just off the front door where the computer is kept.
Cold water submerges my feet. "You have a leak in here," I tell her.
SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 2, 2004 AN AMERICAN IN ARGENTINA Joe arrived in Argentina in 1985 to cover the human rights issues during the military trials. In addition to working for ABC, he issues reports for various agencies and does translation work for amnesty groups. I walk the ten blocks to the charming cottage where his girlfriend Julietta live. There is little curb appeal in Palermo - houses are set behind walls. One never knows until one enters. The house where Joe and Julietta live is a funky, comfortable cottage, part Indonesian thatched roof, part Berkeley cottage, part Soprano decor. Best of all, it has a backyard with a small pool and barbeque. Few houses in Palermo have "yards." They tell me that real estate, especially in Palermo, has already risen to bubble proportions again. They would love to purchase their home, but they have calculated that if they saved 3,000 pesos a month, they would have the money to buy it in two hundred years. Financing? Forget it. About the safety
of living in Argentina, Joe says that Buenos Aires is safer than any large
U.S. city. He says that the economy in the 1990's was like that of
Tokyo today. Palermo is gradually becoming gentrified as the Southern Cone's
answer to Soho. There are 350 restaurants in this area alone, he tells
me. A fellow journalist walks in and they greet each other and talk a little
business before his friend goes back to his table.
So what do they like most about Argentina I ask the couple? The education Joe says. He has a 10 year old son who attends private school, but beyond private school, especially in the university system, educational standards are incredibly high. Many presidents have come and gone over the past 2 decades, but those who went fastest where those who proposed cutting funds to education. Julietta says her grandmother had only an elementary education. But her mother is a nuclear physicist. Her father too. Education is something everyone here expects and takes advantage of. I remember a woman I met in Belize who was from Argentina. It was she who first sparked my interest in Argentina when she told me all the women are highly educated and most have prestiguous jobs. Coming as I did at that time, from a small community which expected women to stay at home, education or no, Argentina sounded very inviting indeed. Joe says quietly that what is happening to America scares him. He says that after 9/11 sentiments towards the U.S. were very favorable. Friends called to express their sorrow and to inquire about his family. He was recently sent on assignment to find out talk to Argentineans about their feelings towards the U.S. now. Joe says, "In the years since Bush took over with his "cowboy politics", views have changed 100 degrees. I searched high and low for one favorable comment about US policy, but I could not find one person in favor of our position in regards to Iraq." Does he plan to ever move back to the U.S. I ask. No. He says he gets bored after 2 weeks and cannot wait to get to Argentina. He is now an Argentinean at heart. While we are
walking through Palermo I ask the two what business a foreigner might succeed
at in Argentina. Anything tourist-related they say. Hotels, tour operators....
We stop in front of an outdoor barbeque grill where there is a bar set
up to serve drinks and food, some plastic tables and chairs - a man is
turning a peice of beef on a stick over live charcoals..In the background
are large steel tanks of water and folded plastic tents. "This is one of
our favorite examples of Argentinian resourcefulness", Julietta says. "During
the day it is a car wash.. At night, and on Sundays, it is a restaurant."
They hand me a comprehensive packet which includes information on everything from rentals ($800 a month for a 2 bedroom French apartment in the most trendy neighborhood in the center of the capital, to $3,000 a month for a McMansion with a pool in the suburbs.) to sales of apartments and homes in the city and all the way to Bariloche, a ski resort in Patagonia. (See resources at the end of this story to contact Reynolds Properties. I highly recommend these ladies! They go way beyond their job description as full service relocation experts have three offices, one downtown, one in the suburb of Olivo, and another in Lomas de San Isidro. Cecilia #1 is light skinned and blonde with blue eyes - her father is Scottish, her mother French. Cecilia #2 is darker, her ancestry, Italian and Spanish. I notice that the people in the suburbs are lighter than those in the city. In fact if I blinked, I could just as well be in Martinez, California, U.S.A as Martinez, Argentina. I tell Cecilia #1 this, and she smiles and says humbly, "Yes, we do have a lot to offer here." Both women haven't been home since they left early this morning, and both are married and have children. "How do you do it?" I ask. "In Argentina we can afford nannies," they tell me. Since they have to get to work early in the morning, we leave early (for Argentina) at 11:30 PM. We will meet in two days to look at apartments in the city. As my driver takes me back through suburbia to the "Capital", I am amazed at huge freestanding homes, the gated communities, the brightly lit main street with store after store where one can buy everything one didn't know they needed, past fast-food restaurants, and gaggles of wholesome looking teens standing around in parking lots. If you long
for America the way it used to be, where families have Sunday barbeques
(asados) with their neighbors and friends out by the pool, a brightly lit
downtown street, restaurants where you see all of your friends even on
a Monday night, you can order until 2 in the morning, where sycamore trees
form canopies over the streets, where it's safe to be out at any hour,
where you can afford a maid and a nanny and private school for your kids,
and a driver too, where you can live in a large brick house with a pool
in the backyard in a gated community, and where that 4,000 square foot
house costs less than $500,000, where your grown children and parents either
live under the same roof or in the same neighborhood, where the sight
of homeless people is something you only hear about, where a few minutes
drive will have you back in on cosmopolitan boulevards lined with elegant
French and Italianate buildings straight out of Europe - then get yourself
on the next wagon train to Gaucho Country, specifically to the suburbs
of Buenos Aires. It's North America in the seventies, before moving back
to the city became the trend.
I'm not sure whose idea it was to paint lanes on Argentina's roads, because they are systematically ignored. While I don't agree that Argentinean drivers are some of the worst in the world, distinct lanes of traffic simply don't exist. One drives where one finds or makes space. Another interesting aside: In Buenos Aires the light turns yellow not only before it turns red, but also before it turns green. That night, I open the fourteen foot tall French doors of my room at The Malabia House to my balcony and sit under the leaves of a sycamore tree. I am dressed in cotton pants, a sleeveless cotton blouse, and sandals. I'm not cold and I'm not hot and there are no bugs. The moon is full, and even after midnight, the city is buzzing, cars and voices everywhere. The cafes overflowing with patrons. A policeman stands at the corner in the shadows. Wednesday Feb. 4 REAL ESTATE If one desires to live in the city center, La Plaza San Martin is the best neighborhood I am told. The plaza is indeed beautiful.. Where Palermo is hip and bohemian, downtown Buenos Aires is old world elegance. It's a cosmopolitan world, with ornate buildings, statues, parks, and the hustle and bustle of international businesswomen and men. It is odd to see so many blondes in a Latin country, such a variety of facial features, physical builds. One thing I see a lot of are nose jobs. Strong jaws and cheekbones and big eyes with petite noses that look oddly out of place. I've heard that nose jobs are as common here as having your teeth cleaned. From the looks of things perhaps it's true. We look at
three properties beginning with one priced at $50,000 - an apartment approximately
300 square feet - ideally located, but a sad little box; and ending with
a $200,000 apartment, which doesn't resonate with my heart or my pocketbook.
A CANADIAN INVESTMENT BANKER As we dine on beef ribs on an expansive green lawn, overlooking the wide muddy Tigres in soft sunlight, "Dave", 35 years old, tells has worked hard all his life to make money. "After the first 50 million and then the second, it gets to be pointless," he says. A cancer diagnosis (fortunately benign) just two months ago jolted him into rearranging his life. Settling in one location and finding a partner are priorities now. He began his search for home with a short list : South Africa, Argentina, and New Zealand. New Zealand got the boot because it was too far away. After only three week s in Argentina, he says his search is over. He is home. Dave is from Toronto, Canada he tells me, although when I question him, it's hard to figure out where he's actually from, since he's also lived in Sweden, France, the U.S., and the U.K. Why Buenos Aires? I ask. He says because of the people, "They go out of their way to make foreigners feel comfortable." He adds that Portenos don't care so much about money and hard work, and he is ready for a break from that life. He does plan to continue working part-time via the internet, and so for him, the skilled labor force and excellent infrastructure here are strong pluses. Dave can be skiing or golfing in 45 minutes (if he flies) at his favorite resort in the Patagonias, the Arelauquen Golf & Country Club in Barioloche." Argentina is a bargain right now. It's Europe on a Latin budget," he says. Friday, Feb. 6 DREAMING OF PATAGONIA Patrick is a contributing editor for Outside Magazine and author of the book Chasing Che, a book he wrote from research conducted during a motorcycle trip through South America. Patrick is headed home to New York tomorrow. He has been in Patagonia looking at cabins - his dream home away from home.. Unfortunately, it is not the dream of his fiancée, whose work keeps her in New York. And his contacts too, are in New York. He can't get over the fact that an apartment in Manhattan will consume all their savings at five times the cost of the cabin and land he dreams of owning in Patagonia. "DIANA" AND THE TANGO "Diana" meets me at the door of her luxury apartment at 9PM in shorts, a tee-shirt, and bare feet. While stirring a pot of macaroni and cheese for her two sons she tells me that after her divorce in the states, she applied for a job with the US Embassy, and received her first assignment in Argentina. "This has been an ideal, cush, first post", she says. Here she and her sons, ages 13 and 16, can live a lifestyle they could only dream about in the States. The children are driven to and from private school each day, and their off-hours are filled with activities and excursions around South America. Anything she wants from groceries to cleaned laundry can be delivered to the apartment with just a phone call. A multi-story cinema is around the corner, so when she wants to see a movie, she buys a ticket for a reserved seat in advance. As for social life, there is something to do every night and weekend. "It's a matter of turning down invitations", she says. We slip out leaving the boys immersed in video games to walk two blocks to a restaurant she passes everyday, but has not yet tried. She already knows what will be on the menu although she's never dined here. Argentine food is always the same she says. Meat, salad, and desert. When she and her friends want something different, they go to an ethnic restaurant, of which there are hundreds in Buenos Aires. Felix, who at one time lived in Manhattan, is the Argentine owner of Le Petit Bistrot, as well as chef, waiter, and piano player. After he has served our dinner of asado chincharron, grilled cheese with fresh oregano, bread, sausage, salad, and a bottle of wine (I was delighted to discover that Argentina has great wines), he sits down to play Beatles tunes on an electric piano. There are three tables in the charming restaurant. The bill including tip is 50 pesos, or less than $20. I ask Diana how she explains to family and friends in the States moving her two sons so far away from home. "I don't even bother," she says. "My ex mother-in-law looks at my boys and says things like, 'Now where is this Argentina place where you're living?' and 'When are you boys going to start having a normal life? Nobody really gets it, so I don't bother trying to explain anymore. The boys love it here." On the drive to Diana's earlier that evening my taxi driver had told me about a milonga where he and his friends have been dancing the tango for 20 years. He invited me to come, and scribbled the name and address on a scrap of paper. "What do you think"? I ask Diana showing her the address after dinner. She wrinkles up her nose and says, " I don't know that neighborhood, and a recommendation from your taxi driver?" "Yeah, I know, but there was something genuine about this old guy. I think we should go." We find ourselves at La Grisela, an authentic milonga which is one of many local tango dance halls which never make it into the tourist guides. We stand waiting to be seated and are politely ignored. Maybe it has something to do with the fact we are single women, or maybe its our pants and flat shoes in this tight dress, stockings, and stiletto heel environment. Or maybe it's the fact that we stand out like beacons as foreigners in a milonga which belongs to the residents of the barrio. Finally the hostess leads us to the old maid's table in the back of the hall behind a big post. We are seated with some very hopeful looking, heavily made up older women. Under a thick cloud of smoke, we watch as couples young and old, mostly old, slide across the ancient wood floors to the soundtrack of Scent of a Woman. When all the other women at our table have been asked to dance and we are the only ones left sitting, and when we begin to notice that several elderly gentlemen are looking longingly our way, we wimp out and stand up to leave. These Portenos have tango in their veins and I'm not about to make a fool of myself here. I mentally note that I must learn the tango before I return. It's 1AM when we hail a taxi. Couples are still arriving. The streets throb with life. 2/7/04 4PM BUENOS AIRES AND THE SITES I am waiting for the late afternoon light so that I can photograph the city's major sites. I will hire a driver for $4 an hour because it is unsafe for a small woman adorned with expensive cameras to walk about the city. Among other things , I photograph Avenidue Julio 9, Los Aguas Argentinas, the Plaza San Martin, the Obelisk, and La Recolleta, where the dead reside in a nicer neighborhood than many of the city's living residents. It is truly a beautiful city, but so much has been written about its "sites" that I won't waste your time here. STREET SMARTS Since 2001 Argentines are poorer than ever, some desperately so. An Argentine woman stopped me earlier today on the street to warn me to place the strap of my plain black bag across my body. She had just witnessed in broad daylight on Avenida Santa Fe, in front of a crowd of people, a man trying to wrest a gold bracelet from a woman's arm. The bracelet was too small and her arm too pudgy for him to get it off and so she ended up with a bloody arm, her bracelet intact, when the man jumped on a waiting motorcycle and took off. This having to worry about hiding valuables: do I want to live this way? Preferably not, especially since my job requires using expensive equipment in public. But what to do? It's one of the perils of living in a large South or Central American city. 2/8/04 PALERMO Tonight I join Diana and Kim from the Embassy at a new Armenian restaurant called Manto in my barrio of Palermo. We are the only ones dining. We wonder aloud why the restaurant is not a success, especially since the food is outstanding and the ambience VERY chic. Our waiter informs us that no other patrons are here because 8:30 PM is too early for dinner. Sure enough, when we leave at 11PM, the restaurant is full. I love a city where I'm not always shutting down the restaurants. On the drive home, we pass cafe after cafe overflowing into the street with people. My American friends gawk at this newly gentrified part of Buenos Aires they rarely since they live downtown near the Embassy. Kim says Palermo reminds her of Greenwich or Soho. The Moon guidebook says Palermo is the home of artists and filmmakers. Feb. 9, 2004 SUNDAY IN SAN TELMO An old lady dressed in fishnet stockings, a vintage hat, platinum curls, ruby red lipstick and rouged cheeks is sitting on a tiny stool singing into a microphone, "Jambayla, Mio myo, Son of a gun, gonna have some fun on the bayou". She's reading the words from a book in one hand and operating a small recorder in the other which plays the background music. I am mesmerized. Jambaylaya by the ... San Telmo? The street with its assortment of entertainers, each weirder than the next, reminds me of Las Ramblas in Barcelona. A puppeteer gives life to a small soft baracho holding a wine bottle, who falls down and pulls himself up while telling his sad tale in slurred Spanish.. At regular intervals along Calle Dorego, statue-still people who have been spray painted, black, silver, or gold stand frozen on podiums, There are tango dancers from another era, - the women with the painted faces of madams, the men mustachioed in tuxes, graceful, proud of their skill, heads held high, faces solemn, with legs intertwined. An accordion player, and a guitarist accompany them. I look at all the stuff for sale in the flea market which looks like all the old stuff in flea markets all over the world. I buy a bag of warm, candied peanuts and eat them while I negotiate the wavy cobblestones under my feet while watching the entertainment and peeking into the store windows of antique shops. A GERMAN EXPATRIATE It is time to pack. I leave for Brazil tomorrow. But I'm hungry and it's only 6PM, hours before the restaurants will serve dinner. And so I walk to Godi Restaurant where I sit outside at a small table during the espresso hour. I order a pizza Napoliatana and a cafe con leche. This being Sunday, everyone is out, either soaking up sun in the park across the street or sitting outside at cafes. They say Argentine women are fashion conscious and it's true. They wear the latest tight jeans and skirts slung low on their hips topped with tiny blouses. The streets are full of boutiques with avant-garde fashions...places where you have to ring a bell before they let you in and where the clothes are likely to have been designed and handmade by the owner of the store. A man, sits down at my table while I wait for my bill. The sun has just gone down and the tables on the sidewalk are full. "Carsten" from Frankfurt Germany bought a house in Palermo today for $57,000. I ask him to describe it: A large salon, two bedrooms, two patios, lots of light, and a yard. He and his girlfriend first visited Buenos Aires this past December. They loved it so much that he rode a bicycle through every street in Palermo, taking notes where he saw sale signs. They found their dream house that week and now he has returned to pay for it. Will they move here full time? I ask. He hopes so. They are tango teachers in Germany who have found the source of their passion. BUENOS AIRES BUENO OR MALO? The Good: great nightlife, restaurants, sophisticated, educated people, nice, accepting, elegant people (no red-necks here), good prices, excellent healthcare, an international airport, fabulous architecture, artists and musicians, international community. No ocean nearby but a ferry trip to Uruguayan beaches or a short plane flight to Argentinean beaches. Close to skiing as well. Low cost of living, at least at the moment. Reasonable real estate prices which are likely to appreciate. Lenient laws regarding foreigners purchasing property. Community values, where family, friends, good food, art, and music rate higher than the art of massive consumption (with hints in the suburbs that that may change.) The Bad: - The flat terrain of Buenos Aires. I am most at home in a land of lushly vegetated mountain terrain which meets the ocean. I could probably deal with the short cool winters of Buenos Aires, but I'd prefer warm weather year round. It is also very FAR away from my children and parents and best friends, although no further than say Bali. The pluses, especially the fact, that I immediately felt (and continue to feel) very much at home among Argentineans, could easily over-ride the negatives listed above. My comfort level among Argentineans will be a common theme on my month long sojourn. In conclusion, I suspect I could live happily in Argentina if I could find work here. Will I make Argentina my New World as recent generations of emigrants have done before me? 2/10/04 BRAZIL OR BUST The second the wheels touch the runway at GIG Airport in Rio de Janeiro, the passengers stand to open overhead bins and begin pulling out their bags. No matter that the plane is still moving at high speed along the runway. The announcement "Please wait until the plane has come to a complete stop before you remove your seatbelt and leave your seat. " never comes. I am in a land where rules are, well just rules. Over the next three weeks, I will hear over and over again: "Tudo legal." Pronounced (TOO-d a lee-GAHL.) It's Brazilian for "Everything is OK." But more about
Brazil next month. For now, ciou!
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