ARGENTINA : Today
By Steve Church
Never eat anything bigger than your head.
Gary Garcia, restaurateur
"You are afraid?" a tuxedo stuffed waiter sniffed haughtily.
I stared at the thing on my plate, bigger than a football it was. Two 10 inch long slimy green peppers lay languid in a stagnant pool of Bernaise atop the massive thing. Blood oozed from its seared sides, any bigger piece of meat would have been charging....
"Of CouRse I'M NoT aFRaid." my voice cracked. "I've eaten steaks before....."
We were in one of Buenos Aires' famous Parrillas or grills. They're easy to find on account of the stuffed steer standing on the sidewalk starring glass eyed as you enter. You'll pass a huge fire pit, crucified on iron stakes around the glowing coals sizzle splayed goats, lambs & pigs. Sausages dangle, plump & spitting from above.
You'll order a good rich Argentinean beer, & with it you'll get an complementary tray of or-dorves... meat. Vienna sausages, choriso, tripa gorda, (large intestine), udder, kidneys, meatballs, cubes of ham, squid, & chicken.
You'll order a salad...meat, cold cuts of beef, goat, sheep, ham, perhaps a slice of tomato. Mabey you'll order the mixed grill, a heaping steaming pile of carnage that would choke a hyena. Wash it back with a full bodied local Cabernet. For dessert, a cup of black coffee you could play racquetball with, &, you guessed it, blood pudding.
Argentina is no place for the timid eater...and no place at all for a loyal vegetarian. They eat MEAT here, & little else. I watched an American order a vegetarian pizza one night. The waiter stared at him in bewilderment....then willing to please, hustled off. He took a pizza crust, heaped on a mixed salad & popped it in the microwave. What came out was a smoldering compost heap on crust.
Another notable fact, the Argentines don't START eating until after 10 PM.
Bars don't OPEN till midnight. People don't even BEGIN dancing till 2:00.
At 4:00 in the morning the streets & sidewalks of Buenos Aires are literally PACKED with people. Outdoor cafes doing a brisk business in thick black coffee & sambuco. And one of these Parisian cafes is the place to sit as Buenos Aires is a people watching city. The Latin, French, German melting pot has cooked up a country of stunning women. Slim, stylish, & self-assured. The Argentine men are also assured, but gracious & impeccable dressers. No grundge look here..... bummer.
Throughout South America Argentineans are known to be cocky. If a child anywhere else acts self assured it is said he has a little Argentinean in him.
I found that not the case. I found the Argentines to be the most open, easy to like people, I've ever run into.
One afternoon in a travel agency I asked to use the bathroom & was led through the employees locker room to get there. Upon trying to exit the toilet, the handle came off in my hand...I was trapped.
About 10 minutes later the girl that had led me in came looking for me.
"Senior Chouch?"
I couldn't remember the Spanish word for help. "I-am- in -the- bathroom!" I yelled, not knowing..TRAPPED!
A pause then "Yes...I see that..."
"I-can-not -come-out!"
"That's fine Senor Chouch...take all the time you..."
"THE -DOOR-IS-BAD....BAD DOOR!! I Yelled.
A thoughtful pause as the girl considered the ravings...had the gringo been at the urinal cakes?? Should she open this 'bad door?'
Finally curiosity cooked the cat & the door swung wide. I thanked her & handed over the handle"
She stared at it, & spat "BAD DOOR!"
The Argentines are a very gregarious lot, meaning 'likes companionship.'
The women walk holding hands, the men walk with arms locked, when they meet, or say good-bye, they kiss. The men kiss the women, the women kiss the women, the kids kiss each other & get this!!
The men Kiss THE MEN!!
Now don't get me wrong, I am certainly as broad minded as the next person when it comes to different customs, I'm always saying 'to each his own', always, constantly saying that.....but my own up-bringing in an Oregon logging community had instilled some pretty straight forward ideas about men kissing each other.... It was a custom me & the boys down at Kochevars didn't regularly practice, not regularly anyway, & I wasn't about to start now. It therefore came as a somewhat awkward moment when at the summit of an Andes ridge top in Las Lenas, I looked below to witness one other person in the entire universe of snowcapped peaks. He had seen my skis parked by the run, had seen me perched 1000 feet above, & was now clambering up the rock to join me. Oh Great, I suppose the first thing this guys gonna want to do once he makes the summit is kiss....well forget it buster....there's one...
Buenos tardes!" he smiled & sat down."Beautiful isn't it." We watched a jumbo sized Condor soar into the sunset, then he stood, said good-by & left.
I realized that this guy hadn't scrambled up here to suck someones face, he simply couldn't believe I would possibly want to be alone.
It is true the city of Buenos Aires is one of the most appealing city's in the world. Its true there are boulevards so wide that parks line the center, a place for the wary pedestrian to rest up before his next desperate dash across 12 lanes of speeding taxis. In this park an old man sells wooden ducks sitting in chairs....because that's what the Buenos Aries pedestrian is...a sitting duck. It is also true the air is Buenos, as literally all taxis run on propane, emitting little smog. There is little crime, the streets downtown are safe at all hours. It is a metropolitan mixture of Europe's architecture, restaurants, fashions, & South Americas casualness. Yet no European stuffiness, & no South American litter. The place is spotless.
I had heard all this about Buenos Aries & it was all true, but what I hadn't heard about was now devastating my wallet.
The Leather Stores.
Buenos Aries smells of leather, around every corner, another beautiful Leather Store. I love the stuff, I was going nuts. A fleece lined bomber coat? heavy, well made...200.oo. A full length black leather Aspen trench coat? 400.oo. After looking at thousands of coats I now stood in a Swede hunting jacket.
"200.oo if you have cash, & if you buy it NOW!" the sales man was getting excited.
"But senor, I am a poor man, (he takes out a handkerchief & wipes my eyes)
"And I live in the mountains, It rains, it snows..."
"Un Momento!" The salesman disappeared into the back room, returning moments later with a pitcher of water. Before I had time to bat an eye he flung the pitcher, hitting me full in the chest with a gallon of water. I looked down, the shop was soaked...but not a spot remained on that coat.
I bought it.
. It came to mind one afternoon, that in a city of 15 million people, everybody wasn't jammed in 80.oo Gucci jeans, sipping sambucos.
"Take me to the poor side of town." I told the cabby.
Fifty blocks later he pulled over. "How's this?"
I stepped out into a sea of confusion. A current of people 15 abreast swept along the sidewalks. The raging torrent of humanity carrying me along with it. I searched for an eddy, an escape, finally diving for temporary
shelter in a doorway. I stood, back plastered against the wall as the earth literally shook with people passing.
In the street sat traffic 10 cars wide, bumper to bumper. Police cars & ambulances sitting hopelessly entwined in a stagnate tide of traffic. Their sirens screaming, the drivers smoked & laughed with each other. As far as the eye could see, buildings. As much as the mind could comprehend ....people. I am not a city person, my heart was pounding like a amphetamine
weasel.
The noise, the burning air, the constant motion, was there no escape? I was swept down a side street, suddenly in the middle of a shouting, banner carrying mob of communist marchers. I backstroked into another street....eerie silence...nothing but policemen starring at me. For 2 blocks the buildings are devastated, then I realized, this is where terrorists blew up a Jewish neighborhood 2 weeks earlier...killing 160 innocents ....eyes watched me now...you don't want trouble with Argentine police...I hailed a cab.
"Take me to the nice side of town ...& hurry I need a sambuca."
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