It is interesting being back and seeing things that only exist in Argentina, maybe only Buenos Aires. Things I had forgotten about, but when I see them, they appear as if they have always been.
Yesterday afternoon, after I returned from my walk, Hernan called. It was nice to talk to him. I love his Italian/Spanish accent when he speaks English. His life is not in as much crisis as I thought. I forgot, he has a tendency towards the dramatic. He is moving back to his apartment in San Telmo, and he is currently doing something to try to get some sort of grant or something. I'm not really sure for what. I think he'd just like to be able to stay at home all day and smoke and play music. He said he'd call me later this week to get together. I guess he doesn't want to appear too eager to see me.
At one point in the conversation he said, "oh my English is so bad." I said, "no, it's perfect", because it is nearly perfect. Then he complained again about his English, I said, "I can speak Spanish." and he said, "oh please remember those who have to talk to you!" - what a bitch! And I told him so. It was pretty funny. I forgot that Hernan can be quite blunt about things like telling me I'm fat or my Spanish is no good.
After receiving my anti-compliment from him, I was encouraged to go out for a walk and get something to eat. I walked up and down Santa Fe, enjoying the closed shops and light traffic, and finally got a hankering for a milanesa. Milanesa is anything breaded and fried. Chicken milanesa, or chicken cutlet, is really yummy here. I imagined a chicken milanesa with a nice side of steamed vegetables.
I finally settled on a restaurant called Pertutti, that I had passed earlier in the day. They had tables set up outside with heating, even though everyone is walking around looking like they are freezing. I took an outdoor table, only to realize it was for the smokers. Oh well, I had been breathing second hand smoke all day, so a little more was not going to kill me.
I ordered a milanesa plate that came with french fries and a fried egg, but I didn't want the egg, so I told the waiter I wanted the milanesa and fries. I think he brought me a regular order of fries. I also ordered a side of steamed vegetables. When he came to my table he was carrying three large plates. I thought he had an order for the two guys behind me. It could not possibly be an order for one person!
I had one large plate that had the milanesa. One large plate of fries (that were cold already) and one large plate of steamed vegetables - carrots, green beans, broccoli, spinach, potatoes, and corn. It was enough food for a family! Next time I'll skip the fries. The chicken was really good, and the veggies were also good (except for the spinach that tasted like dirt and the corn which was the worst corn I've ever had - I think it is the kind they feed pigs).
People walking by took a double take as they saw my large meal.
As I was sitting there, I saw that the evening ritual of searching for paper scraps in the garbage had begun. These are the cartoneros. People who come in from the outskirts of the city and open trash bags, resulting in piles of garbage strewn all over the sidewalks. I saw several people with bicycles fitted with big bins on the front to put their finds and others just walking with large containers.
Then a spectacle unfolded before my very eyes. A car pulled into a parking space right in front of me. As it went into reverse it slammed into the car behind it. Unfazed, the car pulled forward and went back into reverse and again - bam! I could not see who was driving or who was in the car, but it looked like there were several dogs in the back seat. One more time, the car pulled forward, and one more time it went into reverse and bam, one more time, hit the car behind it.
Then the doors opened, and out came the furs! The car was full of conchetta. Four women got out, all but the driver would qualify as conchetta finalists. They all wore big furs (thus I thought they were dogs) and had bleached blond hair. The driver wore a simple red sweater.
They trotted into the restaurant as the driver of the car that had been struck came out.
The driver of the conchetta saw the other driver leaving and came back out. After he pulled out, she got in her car and moved her car back into his space. She now had an area that was adequate for two and a half cars. As she pulled back, I thought she was going to hit the car behind her, which would have convinced me that she was not a bad driver but a car vandal. Satisfied after she had taken up most of the space, she got out and went into the restaurant to join her friends.
After I paid for my extra large meal (which cost me $20), I went to my local chino to get some bottled water. Along the way I passed a group of kids routing through the trash. They had a big bin in the middle of the block filled with paper and plastic bottles and as they went through some garbage half a block away they amused themselves by pretending they were muskateers. Another boy sat in a truck parked on the next street guarding their cache. I imagined some Faganesque character lurking in the shadows in the cab of the truck waiting for these boys to return with their riches. It reminded me that one of the things I'd like to do while here is learn more about the cartoneros and also where they live.
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