Adventure 1 - part 2
Our first stop came 30 or 40 minutes into the train ride and we met our first malabarista on the platform. His name was Mora and he was about to board the train we were deboarding, but Condor convinced him to join us. We left the platform and went to what they called a Cantina. It looked like a convenience store with a table or two in the back and would be the first of many we would stop at on our journey. They sell their beer in glass bottles and only in liters. To avoid paying the deposit on the bottles, we would pour a liter or two into an empty plastic bottle that the cantina was always happy to provide. This allowed us to take beer with us everywhere we went. We´ve been told that it´s illegal to drink in the streets, but it doesn´t seem to stop anyone from doing it. We threw a couple back and juggled in the street for a while, comparing clubs, tricks, and the different things we call each, then headed out toward the ¨circus¨.
We walked a good mile or two before we got to our destination, a grassy area outside of a small office building where jugglers commonly gather to hang out. But this private circus was already abandoned when we got there. Though we all agreed that the walk alone was worth our time. We were finally getting to see the ¨real¨ parts of Buenos Aires. We´ve been staying in a more upper class section of town – though still far cheaper than most areas of the US – and now we were starting to get a taste for how the working class live; the parts of a city that only a local guide can show you. Where we were had the feeling of neighborhood and community, something you don´t feel as much in the heart of the city.
So with our destination a bust, we turned around and headed back to the train, stopping for 2 pizzas and 4 more liters of beer on the way, then back on the train.
I thought our next stop was going to be Condor´s house. Since we were out in the sticks, he offered to put us up for the night, but after a stop at another cantina, more juggling in the streets, and another long walk, we ended up at a house that had a death metal band playing in a big room with no windows. Not normally my scene, but once again, a glimpse into a part of Buenos that, without a guide, we never would have been able to see. We didn´t stay long though. I´m still not a hundred percent certain, but I think the only reason we went there was to get some papers for the mota that Condor had bought for us. I was sure we were going back to his house after we left the show. This definitely seemed like his neighborhood as he and Mora both knew people everywhere we went – at the cantina, walking down the street, at the show – always greeting them and us with the touching of cheeks and a kissing noise and a quick handshake or pat on the back. But we headed back to the train – without missing a stop back by the cantina, of course – only to find out that the trains has stopped running for the night.
Condor said we could walk or look for a car. We asked him how far of a walk it was, to which he replied, ¨Dos o tres cervezas.¨ So we walked. This would prove to be the theme of the remainder of our night. We walked a good 2 or 3 miles conversing the whole time. I´m always amazed at how much better my comprehension and speech gets after I´ve got a few beers in me. The roads slowly turned from pavement to dirt. The cantinas turned from convenience stores to what looked like people´s homes. And we kept meeting other people walking around too, who might join us for a while. Our number grew and depleted again several times. We ended up hanging out under a street lamp across the street from a house that sold beer until the sun came up, occasionally walking across the street and knocking on the window of the house to awaken the woman who lived there for more beers. We juggled the whole time and were probably met by 4 or 5 other jugglers just passing by. The trains were running again by the time we were done, so we caught one back to the city, exhausted, but happy.
I never felt unsafe. I never felt unwelcome. Just the opposite.
This is the South America that I hope to see and write about on this journey. There´s a few touristy things I want to do and see – Machu Picchu, Patagonia, the Amazon – but what I really want to see is how the people live. And who´d have thought that juggling would be the passport?
We walked a good mile or two before we got to our destination, a grassy area outside of a small office building where jugglers commonly gather to hang out. But this private circus was already abandoned when we got there. Though we all agreed that the walk alone was worth our time. We were finally getting to see the ¨real¨ parts of Buenos Aires. We´ve been staying in a more upper class section of town – though still far cheaper than most areas of the US – and now we were starting to get a taste for how the working class live; the parts of a city that only a local guide can show you. Where we were had the feeling of neighborhood and community, something you don´t feel as much in the heart of the city.
So with our destination a bust, we turned around and headed back to the train, stopping for 2 pizzas and 4 more liters of beer on the way, then back on the train.
I thought our next stop was going to be Condor´s house. Since we were out in the sticks, he offered to put us up for the night, but after a stop at another cantina, more juggling in the streets, and another long walk, we ended up at a house that had a death metal band playing in a big room with no windows. Not normally my scene, but once again, a glimpse into a part of Buenos that, without a guide, we never would have been able to see. We didn´t stay long though. I´m still not a hundred percent certain, but I think the only reason we went there was to get some papers for the mota that Condor had bought for us. I was sure we were going back to his house after we left the show. This definitely seemed like his neighborhood as he and Mora both knew people everywhere we went – at the cantina, walking down the street, at the show – always greeting them and us with the touching of cheeks and a kissing noise and a quick handshake or pat on the back. But we headed back to the train – without missing a stop back by the cantina, of course – only to find out that the trains has stopped running for the night.
Condor said we could walk or look for a car. We asked him how far of a walk it was, to which he replied, ¨Dos o tres cervezas.¨ So we walked. This would prove to be the theme of the remainder of our night. We walked a good 2 or 3 miles conversing the whole time. I´m always amazed at how much better my comprehension and speech gets after I´ve got a few beers in me. The roads slowly turned from pavement to dirt. The cantinas turned from convenience stores to what looked like people´s homes. And we kept meeting other people walking around too, who might join us for a while. Our number grew and depleted again several times. We ended up hanging out under a street lamp across the street from a house that sold beer until the sun came up, occasionally walking across the street and knocking on the window of the house to awaken the woman who lived there for more beers. We juggled the whole time and were probably met by 4 or 5 other jugglers just passing by. The trains were running again by the time we were done, so we caught one back to the city, exhausted, but happy.
I never felt unsafe. I never felt unwelcome. Just the opposite.
This is the South America that I hope to see and write about on this journey. There´s a few touristy things I want to do and see – Machu Picchu, Patagonia, the Amazon – but what I really want to see is how the people live. And who´d have thought that juggling would be the passport?
posted by Zackataca at 10:50 AM
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