Angustia

One of my favorite words in Spanish has become "lamentablemente". I started to like it when I was in the Dominican Republic this past summer. I heard it used a lot on the radio talk shows we listened to when my tour guide was driving me around. For me, it's easy to pronounce, even though it has a lot of syllables, and for that I like it. It means something like "regrettably", but I like the "lament" part, it sounds very poetic.

I think I must be drawn to suffering, because today I realized another word I like is "angustia". Last year I asked Hernan, "what is tango?", because I was always under the impression that "tango" was a dance only. Yet in my Spanish classes, we would listen to "tangos" and read and discuss the lyrics. I didn't even realize the songs had words. It seemed to me that my Spanish teachers were not as interested in the dance as they were in the lyrics as a sort of literary treasure of Argentina. Tango lyrics have actually influenced the Spanish that is spoken in Buenos Aires and there is a whole tango subculture that is filled with much more than dance.

So, in response to my question, Hernan said, without thinking, "it is angustia".

I translate "angustia" as anguish, but my Spanish dictionary has other definitions - affliction, anxiety, oppressive fear without exact cause, tightness, pain, suffering, nausea. Pretty heavy stuff. I like it because I like the combination of sounds - ahn-GUS-ti-a.

Yesterday Leo wanted me to tell him a story. I couldn't think of anything but one of my favorite stories from Eat, Pray, Love. Liz is talking with one of her conversation exchange partners and he tells her that every city has its own word - that word is what most of the people are thinking about most of the time. He said that the word for Rome was "sex" and for the Vatican, "power". He said that if your own personal word does not match the city's word, then that is not the place for you to live.

I think San Francisco and I have the same word, but I am not sure what that is. I think it something like "personal freedom" or "compassion" or "food".

So, I told Leo the story and then asked him, like I asked Hernan, what the word for Buenos Aires was. He said he didn't know, but asked me what I thought. I told him it was "tango". It seems pretty obvious that it would be, because that is what Buenos Aires is known for, but I meant tango in the deeper sense of the word, tango as it represents the fusion of many different cultures, influences, musical styles, tango as a complex expression of life, tango as a way of being that involves moving around obstacles gracefully, tango as anguish.

Today I had my treatments at the spa at the Faena Hotel and Universe. I was debating on whether to just take a cab, or take the subte to Catedral and then a cab from there. I went for the subway.

When I went down the stairs to Puerrydon, the ticket booth was dark, and it was clear that the turnstiles were not taking tickets. I walked through, thinking I was lucky to get a free ride (they do that from time to time, like when there is no change, or the ticket takers don't want to come to work). When I got to the platform, it was packed. It was clear to me that something was going on, and I didn't want to risk being late for my treatment at the spa, so I went back up to the street and got a cab.

It was difficult. All of the cabs were full. The guy I finally got took me on a scenic route of Buenos Aires to get to Puerto Madero. I was really tense by the time I finally got to the hotel.

The spa was of course very luxurious. It is on the second floor (actually the first floor the way they count floors here) of the hotel. I went up a mirrored and silver plated elevator and walked across a little mirrored and silver bridge to get to the spa. They were waiting for me.

I changed into the big fluffy bathrobe and had my deep tissue massage first.

I was feeling very discombobulated. I hadn't slept well because I kept thinking about the mix up with Hernan (which to me was more than a misunderstanding and I was hurt and angry), I stayed up late, I woke up late, and after the subte and taxi situations, I was really feeling off-balance. I really needed a massage.

The massage was good. I was thinking that I was going to cry.

I've heard sometimes that really good body work releases emotions. I actually imagined myself having a total breakdown, like screaming crying, and I imagined myself feeling completely spent, and cleansed when it was over.

It didn't happen. Instead my nose started running because I have morning allergies and I was mouth down on the massage table.

When my massage was finished I took a shower and went back and sat in the "relaxation room" which I thought was quite sterile and cold and not very relaxing at all. There were two silver chairs, a little table with a pitcher of water and some glasses and nothing else. The walls and floors were light gray marble.

A very waifish looking woman who sort of walked like a pixie came out from behind one of the glass doors and asked me if everything was ok. I told her I was fine. She floated out of the room through another door like a ballet dancer. I thought she was a bit odd.

The woman who checked me in, peeked in and asked me if I was ok. I told her I was. She asked me if I wanted to go sit in the relaxation room. I told her I thought I was already doing that.

I followed her through another set of glass doors and found myself in a darker space with rows of lounge chairs, some juice, fruit and nuts and some more doors. She told me there was the hammam (steam room) and dry sauna. I was welcomed to use both. I had my eye on the fruit and juice.

I helped myself to some juice which turned out to be mint tea, and some fruit and then sat in the hammam for a bit. It was very hot. More marble, which was very hot to sit on, and blue mood lighting. It was lovely and I was glad I had it to myself.

I got hot really fast and didn't want to be all sweaty for my pranic healing, so I put my big fluffy robe back on and went out and sat on one of the lounge chairs, helping myself to more tea.

Soon, a new woman was greeting me and escorting me to one of the treatment rooms. She said she was going to cleanse my aura using crystals. She asked if I had any pain. I told her my whole body was in pain, which is true. I have neck pain that comes and goes, my hips hurt, I feel like I have sciatica, and my feet hurt from the plantar facitis. I also told her about the meniere's. She said she would cleanse my energy body which would help my physical body.

I lay down on the table and closed my eyes and followed her directions to breathe in and out. I felt myself begin to relax. I felt moments of skepticism. Since she was not going to touch me and told me not to open my eyes, she could have been sitting there reading People en Español for all I knew. But I decided instead to trust that for the money I was paying, I was going to get a real energy cleansing.

I started to feel my physical body lighten up, become lighter. I felt like I was floating until I started to pay attention to the feeling too much and felt myself back on the table. I felt something where my sciatic nerve was hurting me, the pain became more intense, then I felt something in my stomach. Sensations and awareness of different body parts came and went, until I found myself becoming very aware of the fact that I was sort of snoring.

I have sleep apnea (on top of everything else) and when I lay on my back, it is the worst. In this half state of waking/sleeping, I was aware of moments when my lips would burst open from a puff of air. I don't know what that was about, but I've felt it before. It might be the apnea, which is basically me suffocating for a second or two before I wake up and start breathing again. It's lovely and leaves me waking up every morning feeling totally unrefreshed and cranky.

The last part of the treatment was me floating in this state between waking and dreaming, trying to maintain my deep state of relaxation while trying not to snore or suffocate. Eventually, I woke up completely and started to feel restless. The treatment ended right at that point.

The woman who worked on me told me my aura was filled with "angustia". She said it was not deep, not like a depression, but it was angustia.

I knew.

I was thinking that Buenos Aires is filled with angustia, and from the first week I arrived I began to sense it, I began to see it, it began to invade the cells of my body, and today I was feeling it. But after the treatment, no more.

I decided to walk to the subte, again deciding against a taxi (there was one right outside of the hotel).

I walked along the canal in Puerto Madero, debating whether or not to stop and get lunch. It was a nice day, not too hot and there were a lot of restaurants with tables set outside. But I wanted to get home. I had so much food in my refrigerator.

I walked too far and found myself at Buquebus, which is basically the end of Buenos Aires, so I had to walk back and try to get to Plaza de Mayo. I really walked alot. I went down the stairs to the subte, and the platform was full. It was hot, it was crowded. I didn't want to wait and get on a super crowded train full of anguished passengers, so I went up to the street and tried to find a cab. It was impossible.

I walked down Diagonal Norte looking for a cab, but they were all full. I walked to 9 de Julio and all the cabs were full. I walked down 9 de Julio to Cordoba, trying in vain to get a cab. They were all full.

The city was crazy (since I was in the microcentro, it was not surprising). Traffic was a mess, busses spewed black smoke as they rumbled around aggressively, homeless people sat on the sides of the sidewalks, some smelling very bad, people were walking in all directions, every third one of them smoking a cigarette, I was feeling stressed, hot, tired and wanting desperately to get home. I didn't want to have to walk all the way. I couldn't find a cab. I didn't see any other options.

Every time I'd stop and try to flag down a cab, someone would step out on the street in front of me and try. I knew that if there were any cabs to be had, they would get it first and then I'd be mad. I was feeling very frustrated and continued walking, getting closer and closer to home (but still far away).

Finally, a little old cab that was not a radio taxi pulled up to let someone out. I was standing in front of a hotel in the sun. The woman in the cab took forever to pay, gather her things and get out of the cab, turning to look in one more time to see if she'd left anything. I was ready to push her out of the way, but I still had some self-control.

Before I even started to get in, the driver asked me where I was going and told him Arenales and Azcuenaga. He then said, "get in" sort of impatiently, as if he'd been waiting 5 minutes for me to get in.

This cab was not the kind of cab I normally take. Usually I only take radio taxis because that is what people told me to do. And I avoid taxis that look like they will break down any minute. If I can, I avoid really old drivers. Today I had no choice.

This guy was old, his cab was old, and it was not a radio taxi. He didn't have the air-conditioning on (if he even had any), and I had to open the window for air, which was basically exhaust fumes. We putt-putted down 9 de Julio towards Arenales. He sort of drove between the lanes, not actually in one or another but swerving back and forth, as if his steering wheel didn't really work very well.

I said, "there are no taxis today".

He said, "yes there are".

I said, "there is a problem in the subte. I don't know what is happening".

He said, "si señor"

His response was one of those sing-songy responses that someone makes when they feel your pain. It reminded me of something I'd heard about some Eastern European cultures where people build rapport through shared suffering. One person will say, "oy, my arthritis is really hurting today", to which the other will respond, "I know what you mean, my hemmaroids are killing me, I can hardly sit", and voila! instant rapport. To outsiders it sounds like complaining, but actually it is a way of bringing people closer together.

The driver's "si señor" was a lament. It was a singing acknowledgement of the difficulty of life in Buenos Aires. It was anguish. We shared it.

I understood what Hernan told me last week about life here sometimes being too much - the blackouts because there isn't enough electricity, the strikes and protests and street closings, all contributing to him finally having to take anti-depressants.

As my taxi putt-putted down Arenales towards my much quieter, more comfortable "home" I thought about what seemed like a total breakdown in Buenos Aires. People are so frustrated that they are beginning to simply stop cooperating. Teachers, subway workers, senior citizens and just about every other group express their frustrations by disrupting life as normal. When the war in Iraq started, that happened in San Francisco. It had to. That was the only way anyone would pay attention to was happening. An illegal and immoral war was being started by an incompetent and illegitimate president and his cronies. Life as normal had to be disrupted for people to take notice. Yet no one did.

Here, the disruptions of life as normal have unfortunately, or lamentablemente, become life as normal, causing only more frustration.

As drivers honked their horns at each other and smokers blew their smoke in the faces of those standing next to them in this crowded, noisy, smoky, dirty city, I began to feel a sense of relief that I would be going home soon.

I hope I'll be leaving the anguish behind.