Mendoza Day 1: Wining, Dining, and Generally Touristing

Plazas, Sundays, Parks, and Snakes

After a few weeks on the farm, Stephanie and I made for Mendoza city, the province’s capital. It’s a remarkably liveable city: unlike the endless Buenos Aires, whose borderlines seem more the stuff of legend than of reality, Mendoza is easily walkable, and adds to that more open and green space, and notable tilework in the plazas. When we headed for the city there was only one thing on my to-do list: bicycle wine touring. Which meant we were at a bit of a loss for what to do with our other day and half there. (If we’d planned further ahead, we could have taken advantage of rafting, hiking, or adventure sports in the area). As it was, we turned out to be pretty lucky.

            Our first night in the town we found a rock concert to raise attention to AIDS and sexual health taking place in the main plaza. For dinner we sampled the wine Mendoza is famed for, and got perhaps the most stereotypical meal possible: steak cooked in wine. (Another dish on the menu sounded like Argentina’s response to the Atkin’s diet: pizza with a steak instead of a crust.)

            The plaza is a very active place, and, it being Argentina, home to some impressive crafts stands. On a later night, we stumbled across a live tango orchestra, celebrating the famous tango singer Carlos Gardel’s birthday with a show. Audience members of all sorts, some dressed elegantly, some wearing sandals and street clothes, paired up to dance.

            Our first full day in Mendoza was a Sunday, an unfortunate mistake. We wanted to visit some wine tasting places, but most shops shut down on Sundays. (Speaking of wine, for those of you who would rather eat your drinks than drink them, consider trying Malbec ice cream, a flavor that came in season in my last few days).  We flipped through my guidebook and decided to check out a huge park in the area. It’s quite pretty, with many nice places to walk, and dotted with playgrounds. If you’re looking for a picnic area, a way to occupy young kids, or just want to see some nice nature, it’s worth a stop.

            Now, what we were looking forward to next, was seeing an ancient aquarium. My guidebook described it as an “underwater freak show” of preserved oddities from the sea, and suggested that the aquarium was likely unchanged since its installation in 1945, save for the level of algae on the glass. With a description like this, I couldn’t resist. Reality, however, could. We had chosen to come the year that someone finally decided to renovate the aquarium and it was closed to the public. Across the street, however, was a little snake-etarium, hosting a variety of snakes, a few large spiders, and other reptiles. Much of the charm was in the posters, which disproved snake stereotypes I had never heard of (snakes do not, in fact, drink cow’s milk, for example) and underlined that the only way to deal with snake venom is to get treated with an antivenom (do not try to suck out the venom, don’t apply a tourniquet, don’t cauterize the bite, drink alcohol if you want but don’t expect it to help . . . ). A few interesting facts I gleaned are that snakes are deaf, and that to make an antivenom, a scientist injects a small amount of diluted venom into a horse, removes some of the horse’s blood, and separates out the antibodies.
       We also made a stop by the Modern Arts museum (Museo Municipal de Artes Moderno) , located in the plaza. It was tiny, about 1 room, with a few nice wood sculptures, some obvious photoshops, and a less-than-inspiring very abstract movie. Not worth your time.

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Traveler's Tips:

Guidebook

I have a Lonely Planet guidebook, which has been rather useful. The latest edition doesn’t include street numbers in its maps, and is usually off on price listings, but has handy details like phone numbers and street addresses. Everyone in my study abroad program owned Lonely Planet, which suggest its either good, or trendy.

Snake-etarium

There is some more exact and legit sounding name for this place, but I don’t remember. It’s worth an hour or so, and is cheap, only AR $7, if memory serves.

Friday Sept. 9: African Drumming

It turns out that Africans more or less don’t exist in Argentina, but the impact of their music is still clear. In addition to Afrolunes and San Telmo African drumming, today I went to an African drumming class.

            Africans, mostly men, were brought to Argentina as slaves, and at some point in the 1800s, promised their freedom if they fought in wars for their masters. They went to the wars, and essentially all of them died. Those that remained in Argentina fled the racism and escaped to other countries.

Nowadays, black people are exotic. Black girls in my program report men chasing them on the street, and one black guy mentioned that a little girl, seeing him, delightedly cried out, “Un negro!” A while back, a restaurant searched far and wide for anyone with dark skin to use as their waiters – in the end they had to get workers from Uruguay, because they couldn’t find any in Argentina. People go to the restaurant as a tourist attraction, to witness real dark-skinned people. It’s an odd sort of positive racism: Argentineans are fascinated by anyone who looks African.

A love, too, exists for the African culture. At this event, three men drummed traditional songs, each one representing a god or telling a story. A remarkably fit woman danced, wearing black athletic spandex, and a few items related to each character – an animal print skirt for the hunter, a stick as prop for the child god, etc. In the story in particular, she made a dance out of acting it out. Pulling on boots became part of the movement of the dance; somehow she balanced conveying information with maintaining a fluid dance.

                                                  Dancing as the mischevious, but happy child god

We then got to wear our own metal drums (which fell uncomfortably on top of the knee, making it hard to walk) and try out the beats, pounding rhythms and spinning or moving together in a circle. A construction worker on top of the neighboring building loved it – he started clapping his hands above his head and dancing around. The drums came with drumsticks, but the style seemed to also include a lot of slapping the face of the drum with your hand. 

Sept. 4 and 7 - Shows

I. San Telmo Drumming

Last Sunday, I went to see African drumming in the neighborhood of San Telmo. It was fantastically easy to find; when you get off the bus, just follow the sound. A group of men, dressed comfortably in sweatshirts or T-shirts, played as they walked. Their drums were decorated with large painted lips, grinning. Before the men danced three women dressed in black. They made a decent dance based around small steps, swaying hips, and smooth gestures; I tried to surreptitiously copy them, but there seemed to be a trick to the deceptively simple moves to make it all come together.  People walked along, following the drummers like a very chill recreation of the Pied Piper.  When then drummers reached their end, in front of a Socialist group’s headquarters, to give you some of San Telmo’s personality, they circled around the dancers, and took the drumming up a notch. Then everyone quietly dispersed and went home.

II. Opera

Wednesday, I went to an opera. Unlike operas and ballets in the US, here it’s perfectly acceptable to arrive in jeans (although, admittedly, most people dress better here anyway).  Most of the audience was in their 50’s or 60’s, and the 5:30pm start time must have been an especially early for Argentineans, who eat dinner around 9pm or 10pm.

I’m always surprised that here theater tickets don’t have assigned seating, so lines will stretch down the block as everyone files up waiting to enter. Still, it has it’s perks - we managed to snag seats 4 rows from the stage. (One friend pointed out to me that in the U.S., getting into events depends on money. You have to pay for better seating to the theater, you have to buy the milonga tickets before hand; In Argentina, a lot depends on time and dedication. If you arrive early, you’re golden).

            In the theater, at the top of the curtain, was a digital screen, looking pretty much like a teleprompter, displaying the words to the songs. This is a fantastic invention. Even in English, songs are hard to understand.  Admittedly, there were flaws. Often the singers repeated words, but the digital display didn’t, or the actors used synonyms or slightly different wordings. An odd detail was I think the singers often said “gratsi” (Italian) instead of “gracias” (Spanish). Perhaps I misheard, or perhaps it’s a sign of opera’s Italian heritage or of Argentina’s love of Europe leaking in.

            This first opera was Suor Angelica, which was not great. Because it was an opera, the music was powerful and pretty and the singers have abilities I cannot dream of, but the plot was, well, not really a plot. It was cause and effect at the best, without suspense, uncertainty, or different sides in conflict. In punishment for having an illegitimate child, a woman had been sent to be a nun. She finds out that her son died, so she kills herself. End.

            In the last scene, the woman wore a simple white dress, making her contrast both in formality and color with the somberly colored, more formal clothes of the other characters. The stage lights focused on her, as if she was a ghost or an angel; presumably this indicated that she would not in fact be damned for taking her own life. At the last moment, her dress illuminates brightly with lights hidden in the cloth. I know this should add drama and intensity, but the use of modern technology contrasted too much with the old fashioned setting of the play for me to truly appreciate it. In a more modern atmosphere, it could be great.

            What was fantastic, however, was Pagliaci, the second show, and a 2-act opera. The plot is interesting, the music of course powerful, the actors skilled, and the workfull of side plots. The main plot is this:  a man finds out his wife is cheating on him. Meanwhile, he and his wife are comedia d’el arte actors, playing husband and wife in a show about a man who finds out his wife is cheating on him. To emphasize the show-within-a-show even more, the opera stars with credits rolling, as if in a movie, projected onto a transparent screen in front of the main stage. (In both operas, they at times used a third screen, in front of the actors like a physical fourth wall, in addition to other setting pieces behind or on level with the actors). Meanwhile, the whole play is full of little plots, so no matter where you look, there’s something interesting. There’s a love triangle with girls fighting over the attention of a soldier (but also trying to play hard to get), and the townspeople react to the comedia d’el arte play (I think some of them were crushing on the wife), and things like that. In summary, if you’re in Buenos Aires and get the chance to see an opera by Buenos Aires Lirica, definitely take it up. Well, you know, depending on price; I got in for free. 

Día: 1 Month+

I.               Famous

Thursday we found the Catedral, a famous cathedral, especially notable for its ability to hide in plain site. The outside of the Catedral looks more like an old bank – a large square building with pillars and a decorative top. Once inside, it transforms into a huge, multiroom church, complete with choir music playing. Mostly, it was pretty, but there was a life sized figure of a saint that I found rather tacky. It was also interesting that the confession section was not at all secretive – whereas in some churches you can’t really see the confessor, here the confessors’ head and torso where completely exposed, making  admitting your guilts a much less private act.

Earlier that day, my program visited Teatro Colon, a large, rather ornate theater, full of marble and gold fanciness. It ha one of the best acoustics in the world, which I got the impression was half do to luck and half to to conscious placement of cloths to absorb sound and metal flowers to reflect and spread sound. The first architect who started on the Teatro died at age 44, and so was replaced by another man, who was killed by his wife at 44. Fearing that all the architects were doomed to die at age 44, and that the theater would never be built, those in charge made sure to hire someone 65ys old to finish the job. 

II.               Fairs

Buenos Aires is also full of fairs, many that happen every week and a few for special occasions. Last week I went to the Ferria de los Matadores, in an area traditionally known for its slaughterhouses. There was folk dancing, which everyone generally voted a lot more reasonable than tango, and lots of stands selling crafts and food. Today I went to a fair in honor of Immigrants. There was more folk dancing, and minor acts, as each country’s booth tried to lure you over.

III. Music

Monday I saw Afrolunes, an event that takes place in a bar every Monday, and features live music. I left at 1am, too early to see the African music, but the band before that was fantastic. The singer was full of presence, and, surprisingly, sang only in English, ranging from “I Shot the Sheriff” to the Red Hot Chili Peppers. American music is popular here, to the extent that at the concert I almost forgot I was in a foreign country. In the background they played clips of animations and what looked like odd B movies, for reasons unknown to me. Probably what I appreciated most was that a good number of people were dancing, and not grinding.

IV. Sports and Death

Earlier today, I went to see two polo matches, one men’s, one women’s. It was a beautiful day for it, but it seems Buenos Aires isn’t as into polo – despite being the semifinals the stands weren’t even a quarter full.

Later we went to a murder mystery dinner,  which was pretty fun, and I appreciated the caricatured characters, but it was hard for all of us to piece together the Spanish and figure out what was going on.

VI. Language

A few decades ago (80’s mostly) there was a lot of government run torture and it’s worked it’s way into the language. Phrases like “stop cutting my face” or “don’t give me to the machine” (“machine” referring to electric prod developed for torture)

are used to mean “stop bothering me” (at least, according to my readings, I’ve never heard anyone say it).

People even have PTSD over language. For instance, in the Dirty War, or the Process, as they call the period of government run kidnapping and torture, hoods were kept over captured people’s heads to make them feel powerless, or to suffocate them. One woman who had been tortured reported that years later, she was trying to tell her kids to remember to put up the hoods of their coats because it was cold. She couldn’t bring herself to say the word “hood”, so substituted a really antiquated term for it, and the kids had no idea what she was trying to say.

VII. Politics

I have more information on the deal with Cristina and the houses.

The Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo are a civil rights group that formed to protest the government run disappearances  during the Process. In the beginning it was specifically mothers calling for information on what had happened to their children. Now, the group has split into 2, and at least one faction is more involved in general rights work. Cristina Krichner gave a lot of money to the Mothers to sponsor their building houses. However, Sergio Schoklender, (irrelevantly famous for killing his parents), was the financial manager of the Mothers and  embezzled the majority of the money.