More pix of my BAires trip on Flickr
Click here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/71049369@N00/ More pix coming soon (mid-December)
Composer seeks rest and adventure in Buenos Aires. Who knows what awaits?
Click here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/71049369@N00/ More pix coming soon (mid-December)
I'm home now. I've been here for 2 days, more or less. I'm still a bit out of time, what with the 20-hour red-eye home, very very little sleep the next night, jetlag, fatigue, culture shock and a prevailing sadness to be away from a place that was so wonderful, that truly started to feel like "home" after such a relatively short time. (LA didn't feel like home until years after my arrival.) But despite all this, I can't help but smile and be so grateful for the times I had.
4 days left. Time is just flying back. More fun, more adventures (I must write about Bar "El Chino" in Pompeya, adventures in Boedo, and more, but that will have to wait), but I just feel LA pulling me back to "reality." Bittersweet, to say the least. I will relish the melancholy but I will not wallow in misery. (I believe that would be in keeping with the spirit of the tango.)
Some more mate pics. BTW, everyone was more than happy to have their mate moments captured by the camera.
This isn't a mate pic but it was from the same day in Recoleta (a neighborhood in Buenos Aires). A bunch of people playing this really goofy game where they are all still and then everyone has a spazz attack. Sort of a moronic version of duck-duck-goose, I guess. Really funny to watch. Have they no shame?!?!?
What is mate? (pronounced Mah-tay) It's kind of like green tea, but it's much more. Very much an Argentinian cultural institution. It is everywhere. Everyone drinks it, all the time, everywhere. But it isn't just Argentinia's Coca-Cola (everyone drinks that too) but a social custom. Mate is shared among friends from a single mate mug, sipped through a straw which is usually made of silver, often with some ornate metalwork. They love it, couldn't imagine life without it. MateMania! For the record, I find it quite nice as well. A bitter variant on green tea but very tasty, to be sure.
Not that I didn't have a great time at my first tango lesson (see below, it's down there somewhere) but it was a bit difficult and I felt somewhat out of place due to my age and inability to understand 99% of what was being said. At a party I went to a couple of weeks ago (damn, I forgot to blog this fantastic party!) I was given the name of one "Mimi" who comes highly recommended as a tango teacher and whose class is, supposedly, more of what I might be looking for.
As many of you know, years ago I was a NYC taxi driver. The yellow cabbie has an almost-legendary place in American urban lore and is, in fact, known beyond the borders of the U.S. And yet compared to BA, driving a yellow cab is like floating in a heated swimming pool: slow, calm, peaceful.
Like many European countries, people here greet each other with a kiss on the cheek. Just one kiss here, unlike two in Italy or two or even four in France, but still, there is a kiss, some contact beyond a cold and distant handshake. Of course it is fun, but beyond that, it just makes things warmer, closer, better.
After a small quasi-meltdown (see below) I went all out and contacted as many spanish teachers as I could find. I already have met some very nice bilingual folks will to help me with Spanish but they've already become more like friends and so I don't want to burden them nor change the nature of our relationships. Luckily not one but two new teachers appeared readywillingandable to give me lessons.
If this theme hasn't already been expressed, then here it is (again?): A great thing about being a stranger, a tourist, out of your element, is that you are willing to take chances (perhaps), with fewer (if any) routines, instinctual reactions, and that as such opportunities that might not otherwise present themselves occur, and then you might take advantage of them. While there is a comfort to the familiar, of course, there is of course a great excitement in the UNfamiliar, delight in the new, a revitalizing aspect to the path not yet taken (and worn out from overuse).
My lord, what an unbelievable experience! 3 flamenco dancers (two men, one woman), 2 singers, and 2 of the most unbelievable guitarists I've ever heard. Made me feel like I had no right to ever touch my guitar again. Beyond that, words just would not do it all justice. (How's that for a great blog entry???)
I think of myself as an artist. Of music, of course. When I think about what I like, in life, generally, I think, "music, art, film, etc." Culture, inasmuch as that means anything specific. And yet, I'm about to enter my fourth week here and have still not gone to a museum. (I've gone to parks, gardens, the zoo, the movies, an amazing concert, but no museums, which I usually love). It's just weird. When I lived in NYC, I'd go to MOMA at least once a month, but really more like once a week or more. Whenever I've lived in other cities, I learn the collections of all the major museums. (Rome was a bit of an exception due to the fact that all the art and museums are falling apart and only open every 7th tuesday of every quarter unless the portanero doesn't feel like showing up, or if it's cloudy, etc...) It would be a shame (or a farce) to think that I've just seen enough art and don't need it anymore. But i have, arguably at least, seen a good percentage of the masterpieces and masters of the world. Maybe it's just more interesting to try to reconcile the existence of the beautiful art nouveau architecture among rich businessmen and cartoneros (homeless scavengers who pick through the garbage), the tango-infused music that soaks the environment throughout, the traffic that resemble a demolition derby driven by blind people, the parks, the dogs, not to mention the ongoing challenge of just trying to understand newspapers and street signs.
OK. Deep breaths taken, small nap as well. Reflection. Long walk. Crisis over.
Those who know me know well that it is rare, perhaps unprecedented, to go 3 weeks (if not 3 hours) without bitching and moaning like a spoiled child. Well, it's not quite 3 weeks and all this good cheer couldn't last forever, right?
Number of days in BAires: 16
Gertrude was my therapist (as in my "shrink") up from about 2 years ago (give or take) up until she had a stroke, about 6 months ago (give or take). She said her stroke was relatively mild and she suffered no permanent damage beyond a weakened overall endurance, a general fatigue, etc. I did speak with her a few times after her stroke but eventually I stopped calling her because I felt my calls put as much pressure on her to recover and regain sessions with me as it did to actually express my concern and/or good wishes.
I didn't want to leave any sooner than I had to so I've extended my trip another week. Yea!
I love writing this blog, even if few people actually check it out. But I've been so busy with my walking around aimlessly and such, I just haven't had time. But lots has been happening and good lots at that.
AIRBAG! I'm not saying anything about the band or their music. But that name, wow....
When I lived in Rome, over a decade ago, I chanced upon a place that offered time in an isolation tank. This is the contraption that was featured in the film "Altered States," i.e., a covered tub or basin that was filled with hypersalinated 98-degree water then covered up. As such you floated, felt no cold or warmth, heard no sound and saw no light. It was a pretty amazing experience. People who experience the isolation tank have a huge range of experience, from ecstasy to paralyzing fear. Personally I thought it was pretty wonderful. The only crazy thing was my perception and obsession with time. I was having such a great time in the tank, and the tank was altering my perception of time so much, that for a while (who knows how long?) I was fixated on how much time I had left to enjoy this amazing experience.
So no one told me the particulars to the argentine dialect. Granted, Laura (my lovely portena friend and masseuse) said something about it perhaps, but my mind is like a sieve, and always with a "I´ll figure it out when I get there" attitude.
I am trying so very hard to get over the inertia, the fear, the whateveritis that stops me from doing those things that I want to do. I don´t want to be one of those people who looks back and says, "I wish I had done ..." So I´d passed a sign in my neighborhood, "Classe de Tango" Mondays, 6:30pm. I went.
Slowly branching out, beyond Palermo, I made it to the renowned Feria de San Telmo. Basically a huge flea market, street fair, crafts festival that happens every sunday. Despite my late schedule (woke up at 1pm, made it there around 3) it was still very much alive.
Yes, this is what I wanted. To wake up whenever, preferably late, walk late at night, far, and be timeless, without responsibility in a place where all is new, often beautiful, where stories, even history are evoked at every turn.
New word learned: GRANIZO. Means hail. Today there was the most intense hailstorm I´ve ever seen. Hail as big as pingpong balls. Put lots of dents in all the cars unfortunate enough to be caught in it. They said it was not normal for BA. I hope not. Amazing....
I´ve arrived. Alma was a great passenger despite the THREE attempts to get her to pee in the bathroom in teh airport. She just looked at me and wondered why I wanted her to pee indoors. She´s so well trained.
It's Friday, I leave monday morning. So how many days does that leave to do way to much work and prep? I don't know. Like I have time to do that kind of math calculation when there's still much work and prep to do?!?! Had a weird, uncharacteristic flash of "why the hell am I doing something as stupid as going to Buenos Aires?!?!?" for a moment yesterday, but then I realized why. Because it will be fun, interesting, a break from the usual, i.e., all the things that I value most.
I've never been much of a diarist. I've started them many times but for whatever reason, I never stick with them. And for all I know this one might await the same non-fate. We'll see. In any case it's just 8 days before I fly far away for some combination of relaxation and adventure. Who knows what awaits?