Buenos Aires Photos

I took this photo from the middle of Avenida 9 de Julio, or the 9th of July Ave (the 9th of July is Argentina's Independence Day). All the porteños claim that this is the widest avenue in the world. The other thing they like to point out is that you can't cross it completely in one traffic light cycle, not without running. One night out with some new climber friends, we found ourselves on one side of the avenue on our way to a club. The light had already been red for a while and seeing this, my friend abruptly took off at a full sprint. I watched them for half a second, then realized I had better get my butt going. I barely kept up in my flip-flops, and I made it just before the sea of taxis resumed control of the avenue.

Here's a photo of one of my teachers, Jorge Firpo, giving a demonstration at Escuela Argetine de Tango. I take most of my classes in this studio, from a variety of teachers, male and female. But Firpo is definitely one of the better teachers. He always likes to offer a demonstration of what he taught during class, at the end of class. This time he had an exceptional partner, someone who visited obviously just to dance with him, and they were impressive.

Here's a photo of the other side of the same studio, during another class. It overlooks Calle Florida street, a chaotic, pedestrian street full of street performers and tourist traps.

AAAAHHHHHHH! Watch out for these! This is a Buenos Aires collectivo, or bus. They're everywhere, and probably the best way to get around, cheap as hell, but man can they be lethal. They rip around like NASCAR. If you don't wave for them to stop, they won't (once, late at night and way up on the north end of town, I was waiting for a bus; I bent over to tie my shoe, and when I looked up, my bus flew by at top speed, never slowing down). And all you need to do is put your foot on the first step of the bus, with it's doors still open, and they're off, ready or not. Hang the heck on, buddy.

Milonga!

I recently took a class in Milonga, another partner dance form in the world of tango. Milonga is the brighter side of tango, offering a partner dance that is faster and more overtly rhythmic. It contrasts perfectly to the austerity and self-conscious drama of salon style tango, positively tripping over itself just to keep moving for the sheer pleasure of it. It is what we can call a 'happy dance.' I certainly felt happy after having learned it.

My Milonga teacher's name is Pancho. Like his dance, he lacks the ego and pretension sometimes found in tango salon teachers. His body appears too big and a bit clumsy, but main does he move! (Others later told me that he's considered the best milonga style dancer in BA right now.) He hums, whistles or sings along with all the songs. He's just seems happy to share a dance with us that so obviously makes him happy. I've had two classes with him thus far, and the first was kind of eye-opening, as I picked up the basic dance quickly and was marching around the room with a grin on my face and a partner in my arms.

A milonga is very much like a march, and, minimally, one is always, always, always alternating weight from one foot to the other, back and forth, unceasingly. You are connected to your partner in a close tango embrace, chest to chest, cheek to cheek (or forehead to chin, depending on the height difference). Essentially, you just march around the room, but there are of course a myriad of steps to learn, and, even better--and this is why I think it could never get boring--the possibilities for alternating, double-timing and pausing within this milonga march are infinite.

The music hums along at a happy clip. The rhythm dictates constant movement. Before you know it, you're sailing around the room with a partner, four legs crossing, reversing, stepping and alternating. It's quite fun, to say the least.

Taxis

Buenos Aires has a glut of a taxis. Though they share the same yellow and black color scheme as their New York counterparts, they're a bit smaller than a full sized Ford Motors Crown-Victoria, the NYC standard. The Buenos Aires version is a bit more humble, but no less effective. They're usually a small, compact and "well aged" Peugeot, flying under the colors of the dominate taxi company here, Radiotaxi.

Riding in one of these Radiotaxis can be, depending on your disposition, pleasurably exhilarating (like a roller coaster) or absolutely terrifying (like a car driving off a cliff). Taking full advantage of the world's widest streets (truly!), these taxis just love to thrill you with beautiful, arcing maneuvers across 8 one-way lanes of avenue. Similarly, they employ the brakes only out of absolute necessity, never out of care or courtesy, and they are just as pragmatic about bringing the vehicle to a halt. Why slow down now when we can stop later? Stop if we must, fine, but only in that very fine window that exists exactly prior to slamming into the back of bus at 50 mph. This experience is truly sensational every time--wwweeeeeeeeee!!--and I find myself laughing out loud (to release nervous tension, to show that I am pleased to be alive) every time. Still, for about 6 bucks, you can ride from the very bottom of "down town" to the very top of "up town." They're indispensable!

Tonight my disposition must have been right because I had a great ride. I left San Telmo, my home neighborhood, in a taxi destined for Palermo, a neighborhood at the opposite northern end of town. The avenues were fairly empty, just a few cars and buses thrown out there for a little bobbing and weaving. My driver took full liberties, which is to say he drove quite normally. It was a great drive. The windows were down, the evening was cool and the buenos aires were flowing. We zipped past the Presidential Palace, a few packed buses, huge sculptures of Spainish generals on horses, the cops in their equally small cars, and that giant flower sculpture, Escultura Floralis Generica, which closes up at night like a real flower. It was a full tour of Buenos Aires' East side, all at an average of something like 40 or 50 mph.