So much strange & crazy

One journalist's musings about the beautiful, bizarre world in which we live

Why I love Buenos Aires (and how I took back the night).

Rarely a day goes by without bad news here.

Nor does a day pass without me fumbling for words at some beauty.

* * *

If you recall from one of my earlier posts, I was sort-of robbed right infront of my building by a gang of men and a woman.

Since then, I have taken care not to be in the streets at night.

I got a picture with strangers when the band suggested we should.

And so, despite hesitations about being out after dark, my good friends convinced me to see Babel Orkesta Feb. 17.

What a concert.

I have never seen such audience participation in my life.

At the end, the band stepped off stage and led us out to the front lobby-like area. They crouched with their instruments. They said, why not continue this outside?

So we did.

I joined a troupe of about 200 people singing and dancing through my stabbingly dangerous neighbourhood at 2 a.m.

The band continued playing the euphonium and accordian. The leader sang with a megaphone. We shouted the chorus at the top of our lungs, marching past puzzled people. We danced into a bar, where patrons gave us strange looks, shrugged their shoulders and joined in.

* * *

My everyday afternoon snack.

Food. I enjoy it here. A lot.

Olives. Red wine. Beef asados. Basil. Lettuce. Empanadas. Medialunas filled with dulce de leche. Cafe con leche. Peaches. Beer. Milanesas. Chinese noodles. Choripan. Homemade curry. Orange juice. Fresh pasta. Blue cheese.

There’s abundance and variety. And it’s fresh.

* * *

The other day, a few of my friends slept over at my house. My roommate joined us for breakfast.

At the table? A Scotsman. An Italian. An Englishwoman. My roommate, a Colombian. Myself, a Canadian.

The Englishwoman asked if we had any funny “Overheard in Argentina” moments. My roommate had two stories. I’ll share one (or at least what I remember of one).

He told us how his sister was buying condoms in a store. She was asking for a certain brand, called “Prime.”

Some people in the line overheard what she was buying. One man nearby her said something along the lines of “Ah, Prime – porque Prime exprime!” Ah, Prime – because Prime squeezes! 

As you might guess by the spelling, it rhymes in Spanish. And sounds so much funnier when my roommate tells it.

* * *

Really, there are more happy moments than I can list in a blog post.

* * *

All said, I know people who were beaten beyond recognition on streets in Canada. Robbed in Canada. Left to the gutter by Canada’s government.

I’ve written about the intricate corruptions of government in Canada, and about how the Canadian lifestyle causes harm abroad.

Sure, Canada’s a great place, but it’s not perfect.

Argentina’s not perfect by any means, but that doesn’t mean it’s not a wonderful, beautiful place.

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4 comments on “Why I love Buenos Aires (and how I took back the night).

  1. MavenSocial
    March 5, 2012

    I came across your blog, and must tell you that I love it! I have never been to South America, but your descriptions are so lovely and make me want to discover these places for myself! I also love your writing style…interesting…the one-liners and then stars to break it up are a nice touch!

  2. Tony Brunjes
    March 7, 2012

    Life is good, eh?

  3. Pingback: An update. « So much strange and crazy

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This entry was posted on March 5, 2012 by in Travel Tales and tagged , , , .
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