Final Night in Buenos Aires
I went to a recommended Armenian restaurant last night. I didn’t go because I like Armenian food. In fact, I have never had Armenian food. I went to enjoy some international cuisine beyond pizza and pasta before leaving the city. I arrived at 7:00 PM after walking for a couple of hours. I figured I would get there before the crowds and slip out early. Besides I was hungry due to not having any ice cream that afternoon. The restaurant was closed. They do not open until 8:00 PM. I started to walk around the neighborhood and I could not find a bar or other place to sit it out. I kept walking and found myself on Avenida Santa Fe. I knew that the Palermo Hollywood neighborhood with all of its restaurants that I had passed the night before was very close so I decided to just head that way and find something interesting. I walked and walked and I swear I was on the same streets as the night before, but I could not find a restaurant. I found cafes for coffee and sweets and plenty of heladerias (ice cream), but no restaurants. I couldn’t even find a place for asado. It was a little frustrating. Then I realized that I had walked so far that I was close to the Indian restaurant from the night before and I decided to go there. It was as if it had been conspiring to suck me back in for the past hour or maybe even day.
I approached a small market and there was a commotion at the front door. It appeared at first to be a fight with two women watching frantically as their men went at it. But as I got close I realized this was a shoplifter who had been caught and a number of employees of the store were trying to hold him. One of the Asian owners ran up the stairs next door screaming and her brother or husband came flying down to join the others in the struggle. Seven people had this guy trapped, but he was doing his best to flee. I decided to stay and watch. The man’s shirt was tugged up and it revealed someone who was malnourished. His ribs were protruding and his body did not look healthy. He was proclaiming innocence and so was his female companion who was not being held. I don’t know this because I understood the words. I know this because it’s just what this universal situation was all about. I felt sorry for the guy because he was obviously starving and desperate and he hadn’t taken much. I wanted to offer to pay for whatever he needed, but that doesn’t really do much for anyone. He should not have stolen whatever he had, but then again I would do the same thing given the situation. I also did not feel too sorry for him given that he had stolen from a family business which was not very significant and was making none of them rich. The market family was debating and I knew they were torn about what to do. Argentinians who are not starving really empathize for their fellow citizens who are hurting. I suppose it would be similar to the US during the Great Depression. While the thief may have been a drug addict, it was just as likely and maybe more likely that he was a victim of Argentinian economics and the Argentinian elite.
The younger male who had run down the stairs was definitely for turning the guy into the police. An older male, my guess is that it was his father, was more calm. A search of the thief found nothing. The younger male knew that did not mean anything. The older male decided to let him go. He prevailed although the family continued to debate and the younger male yelled at the thief. The thief ran into the street. He did not look and I whinced hoping he would not get hit, but luckily for him no silent bus (believe me, the buses here are silent, drive fast and also near to the sidewalks – ask the guy that was laying in the street the night before) was coming by. He got into the street and turned around and came back. He wanted to thank the family. He put his hands together as if praying and bowed and carried on with a thank you. Idiot, get out of here. The family said just as much, but he wanted to make sure they understood how much he appreciated their decision. His girlfiriend now on the other side of the street implored him to run. He actually came back to the sidewalk in front of the store. Idiot, get out of here. The family was yelling at him. The young owner was particulary incensed. He knew the man had something. The thief got to the other side of the street and sure enough pulled out an orange or something similar from the crotch of his pants. The young owner went nuts having seen this. He looked at me, pointed at the thief and said something like “he’s a no-good thief”. I felt sorry for everyone involved.
I had another great meal at the Indian restaurant. The place was near empty being that it was only 8:00 PM. I asked the waitress about when they are busy and she said it starts around 10 PM and continues until at least 1 AM. She agreed that it is strange, but that’s the way they do in Buenos Aires. Coffee and cake at 5 PM or so at the cafes and dinner late in the night. She said it is the same in New York City. I said it is even crazier in Spain from what I have read. She was well-traveled through Latin America and we talked about the beauty of women in Colombia. I told her Argentinian women are much more beautiful because of the diversity. She liked hearing that and knew what I meant. She told me about the wave of immigrants from Italy, France and Spain early last century which is responsible for the blue eyes, light hair not found in the rest of Latin America. We talked about Brazil where her mom is from. I told her I wanted to get to Florianopolis (many Italian and German immigrants in southern Brazil) because someone who had never been there told me the most beautiful women in Brazil live there. She disagreed and I listened because she knew what she was talking about. She told me Brazil is all about the body and I knew what she was talking about. I asked her about Rosario because I have been told that the most beautiful women in Argentina live there and I was thinking about a detour next week to see for myself. Her eyes got big and she swooned on about the beauty of the women in Rosario. I told her they must be some of the most beautiful women in the world if they are that beautiful for Argentinians. She acted as if it was embarassing that women could be so beautiful and she was not. Trust me, she was a knockout herself. I told her I want to go to the Mideast because the beauty of the women there will be astonishing. She did not know if that would be true. I brought up India and again she did not know. I then pointed her towards a table across the room where two sisters sat with their parents. The mother was ugly. The father was very distinguished looking. The shorter and maybe younger daughter was absolutely beautiful. But her sister was the most gorgeous woman I can remember ever seeing. The waitress shook her head and said, “I see”. I was glad the family was not close to my table and in my direct line-of-sight or I would have just stared. I left well before the busy hours happy that my plans for Armenian food had been disrupted so well.
I have only seen glimmers of what happens in Buenos Aires on Saturday nights. If I am up until 1 AM, it is a very late one indeed. Much does not happen until after 1 AM. Last night I was in bed by 11 PM. There are many businesses like clubs that I have never seen open. They look like dumps on the outside because their patrons do not arrive until it is very dark and if they leave when it is light, they are not looking at the outer decor. I have seen inside of them earlier in the evening when their doors are temporarily open to receive deliveries. They are quite posh. I have heard the racket in the hostels after midnight as people get ready to go out. I have heard the music and yelling through the night at the local businesses. And I have heard the drunken folks come back after 5 AM. But, by myself, I have not partaken. Last night a business next door which I thought had been closed down came to life and was thumping loud enough to wake me many times. There was also a lot of noise by a few people in the hostel. The regular waking made my sleep shallow and I filled it with vivid dreams. I dream a lot while traveling mainly because sleep is not nearly as deep most of the time as it is at home. I dream about friends, family and home and I like that. Last night, as has been regular over the past few months, I dreamed vividly about Chris. They were wonderfuly fun and bizarre dreams, but I hate waking from them. They leave me with a bigger hole to fill. I am headed for Iguazu Falls today and will stay at a nice hotel and get deep sleep without the dreams. I’ll get back to Buenos Aires one of these days because even though I did not like it at first, I have grown to really love it. It’s a city where I really feel alive. Hasta Luego, BA.
Tags: Travel
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