One journalist's musings about the beautiful, bizarre world in which we live
For a couple of weeks, I’ve been trying to write a post about the nice things in Buenos Aires, to show the side of the city I love.
But terrible things just keep happening.
* * *
This morning, I woke up to ambulances and police honking their way down the streets and helicopters swirling past my apartment window.
My first thoughts were that something bad had happened, and it was confirmed.
“Hundreds injured after packed train slams into Buenos Aires station” was the first headline I found on Google News, from the Globe and Mail.
All the initial reports I found – though I was searching in Spanish – were in English, based of an Associated Press release.
Still, life moves on and there are other deadlines to meet. I made a quick breakfast, had a quick shower. I hopped on my bike, and pedalled my way to pick up some video footage for a script I’m writing on an unrelated story.
My road was closed to cars, police standing at an end and directing traffic away.
I biked under a train bridge on my street. Nothing was moving above.
Other roads were packed. I was moving faster than vehicles, though that’s not that uncommon.
Not too many ambulance about, at 12 p.m., but there were helicopters everywhere.
The sound of helicopters makes me uneasy.
* * *
I searched online when I got back home.
Eight blocks from my apartment, it’s one of the worst train crashes in Argentine history.
* * *
And in the newsroom…
“what a nightmarish day”, my good friend Lillo typed at me as he finished and published his story.
And we changed topics, chatted about the office and other people.