Em and I have been taking Spanish classes at the University of Buenos Aires. This is the same University that Che Guevara attended. We've been doing it for about 3 weeks so far, although i missed quite a few of the first lessons due to enrolling late, and entertaining two lovely red-headed visitors from Sydney.
Anyway, we normally catch the Subterraneo to the class, but today for some reason it was closed, so we had to quickly figure out which bus to catch. We got the 106, and arrived about 20 minutes late.
The class went OK, nothing out of the ordinary. We have two teachers, and one is hilarious, while the other seems to be in a bad mood quite a bit. It's not fun when your teacher is in a bad mood. But tonight we had the hilarious one.
But getting back to the point of this story, we decided to get the bus back home again because we weren't sure whether the subte would be open. So we did, but the bus takes a different returning route to the one it takes there, because of one way streets etc.
So we were a little lost, and we didn't know what route the bus was taking, but luckily i have a map on my phone, and i could follow where we were going. So we got to a street closish to our house, but i kinda thought we might get closer so we stayed on the bus to see. We didn't get any closer, and in fact only got further away, so we got off quite a few blocks from my house and walked. My god, this is boring... Ok, i'll get to the point.
So walking down 9 de Julio, we saw some commotion up ahead. Em saw it first, which is surprising because she can't see anything without her glasses. Maybe she was wearing them... probably was. I noticed a man lying in the street and a police man and a group of other people standing over him. Nearby on a park bench was a woman being consoled by another woman, and parked in the road was an ambulance.
We didn't really want to sticky-beak so we walked past quickly, and saw that the man was older, dressed nicely, with gray hair. He was lying on his back, with one hand on his stomach and the other at his hip.
Em asked me, "Is he dead?". I told her i doubted it, and we kept walking. But when we turned back again, they were covering him with a white sheet. So we can be pretty sure that he was dead.
This is probably the fifth dead person I've seen in real life. Strangely, one of the others was also in Argentina, on the way to Calafate, seven years ago. He (or she) was lying on a road in the middle of nowhere, with a broken windshield covering him, and his arm protruding from under it at an unnatural angle. Beside him was an overturned jeep and two men who waved us past.
The other four were my grandfather, in hospital, Emily's grandmother in an open casket at the funeral, and two people who were being cremated in Varanasi, India. I don't know if i can count the human jaw we saw in the gutter in the filthiest city in the world, Agra.
I remember feeling strong emotions for every other body I've seen. Even the ones i didn't know. Watching the cremations in Varanasi was an incredibly moving experience. The body under the windshield shocked me, perhaps partly because of the mystery of who they were, what had happened, and who the men were who were with him. Of course, being with your dead grandfather surrounded by family is an incredibly moving experience. As is experiencing the funeral of your partners grandmother, and witnessing emotions that are rare for a family.
But today, i felt nothing. I don't know why. Perhaps it was because the body lay uncovered. There was no mystery to who he was, just another old man. Or maybe it was because I didn't think he was dead when i passed him, so i didn't have time to register that this was an abnormal situation. Maybe it was because he looked so peaceful. He wasn't in a strange position, hadn't fallen strangely, he looked like he was simply resting. Or maybe I've seen enough dead bodies now not to be shocked.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Tigre
Brennan, Emmo, and I went to Tigre the other weekend (3rd of April). It’s about an hour north of Buenos Aires, and it’s a bunch of islands within a river delta that can only be accessed by boat. Porteños build holiday houses on the islands, right next to the water, and go there for the weekend to fish, sail, row, and jet-ski. Others live there all year round. The water was very high when we were there. It’s a really pretty place.
People enjoying a day kayaking around some of the canals
A fisherman in one of the more natural sections of the delta
We hired a boat for about two hours, and received a fairly intensive Spanish lesson, as the tour was entirely in that language. It wasn’t too cheap though, costing 300 pesos for the two hours. The tour guide was called Fernando and he took us on a tour of some of the smaller canals. We saw floating supermarkets, plenty of nice houses, huge restaurants, a primary school for about 400 children, and lots of kayakers and rowers.
Fernando, our boat driver/tour guide
After, we returned to the town and had a fairly average, but expensive meal somewhere along the water. Then we headed to the ‘fruit market’ which doesn’t actually sell much fruit. Em bought a basket for our dirty washing which is so far doing its job very well.
One of the more eccentric houses.
Casablanca.
Another nice house, set back from the river.
A floating supermarket.
Emily!
We caught ‘el tren de la costa’ (the coastal train) back. It was a little more expensive than the public train we caught to get there, but it arrives at Olivos (just north of BA) pretty quickly. From there we transferred to the main line and headed back to the centre of town. It was a lovely day, and I want to head back to check out the theme park that’s there. It’s got roller coasters, rides, etc. And it’s cheap to enter!
You can see part of the fun park in the background.
People enjoying a day kayaking around some of the canals
A fisherman in one of the more natural sections of the delta
We hired a boat for about two hours, and received a fairly intensive Spanish lesson, as the tour was entirely in that language. It wasn’t too cheap though, costing 300 pesos for the two hours. The tour guide was called Fernando and he took us on a tour of some of the smaller canals. We saw floating supermarkets, plenty of nice houses, huge restaurants, a primary school for about 400 children, and lots of kayakers and rowers.
Fernando, our boat driver/tour guide
After, we returned to the town and had a fairly average, but expensive meal somewhere along the water. Then we headed to the ‘fruit market’ which doesn’t actually sell much fruit. Em bought a basket for our dirty washing which is so far doing its job very well.
One of the more eccentric houses.
Casablanca.
Another nice house, set back from the river.
A floating supermarket.
Emily!
We caught ‘el tren de la costa’ (the coastal train) back. It was a little more expensive than the public train we caught to get there, but it arrives at Olivos (just north of BA) pretty quickly. From there we transferred to the main line and headed back to the centre of town. It was a lovely day, and I want to head back to check out the theme park that’s there. It’s got roller coasters, rides, etc. And it’s cheap to enter!
You can see part of the fun park in the background.
Monday, April 12, 2010
My two experiences of being robbed.
It’s been a while since my last entry. Part of the reason for this is because I had quite an unpleasant experience about three weeks ago and I didn’t really want to write about it. I’ve recently had another, so this is going to be a slightly negative entry before I get back to describing the awesomeness of Buenos Aires. Hopefully it’ll help me get some things off my chest and help others to avoid the situations I got myself into.
The first unpleasant experience was after I left a party in San Telmo, and started walking in the wrong direction towards La Boca, alone. The Lonely Planet, and many other people, including taxi drivers advise you to avoid this area at night. It was around two or three in the morning and I had been drinking with the girls and some other friends from my University. We’d met up with random Canadians, Hong Kongeans, Americans, outside of supermarkets and other places and they’d ended up accompanying us to various parties around the city. I’d had a really good night, but it was time to call it quits so I left and started heading home.
I remember walking up a well lit street lined by trees, when I noticed a man dressed as a woman coming towards me. He had big bushy hair and came straight up to me, whispering something in my ear. I basically just said no thanks and kept walking. He followed me for a bit, and as I approached a corner, I noticed another transvestite who was going for the Peruvian ‘chola’ look. Both were ugly as shit. There was absolutely no mistaking them for women.
The chola started whispering things in my ear, and I tried to ignore her too and keep walking. But then they started touching me, putting their arms around me, and ultimately groping my testicles. There was no way they could have thought I was interested, because I was making that clear, so I realized they were probably touching my balls as a distraction to pickpocketing me. So I put my hands in my pockets to cover my phone and my wallet, and to ensure their hands weren’t going in there, but then they’d go straight back to squeezing my nuts which meant I’d have to take my hands out of my pockets and bat theirs away.
Eventually they let up and walked away. So I checked my pockets for the final time and realized my phone was gone. Immediately, I moved quickly towards the bushy haired one, and said to her very nicely in Spanish; ‘Please, I’m Australian. Give me my phone’. She initially ignored it and walked away, but I followed and kept repeating it louder and louder and with more urgency, in part, hoping neighbours would hear.
She started moving away more quickly once my voice became raised, but she was hampered by her high heels, so I didn’t have much trouble keeping up with her. I followed her for about 2 blocks, and we crossed the street multiple times. At one stage, trying to scare me, she picked up an empty beer bottle and smashed it against a gutter holding the neck in her hand. But it wasn’t for very long, and she threw it away and kept moving. I grabbed her arm multiple times and she wrenched away from me.
The chola was following us for this, and I could tell that she, in particular, was incredibly uncomfortable with the situation. I kept trying to grab the one who had my phone, and eventually just started yelling ‘Help me! and ‘Police!’. The Chola said something to the bushy haired one, and she obviously weighed up the pros and cons of the situation and my phone was out of her purse and in my hand. I got out of there in the first taxi I could find, upset and scared, but luckily, not lacking any of my personal items.
The second unpleasant experience happened on Easter Sunday. I had been drinking at an American bar with a friend from uni called Brennan. We´d been having fun, watching baseball and talking to various people from around the world. It was especially fun listening to Brennan convince two other Americans he was Australian, with a pretty average Australian accent.
Again, we left late, probably at about 2am. It was only a seven block walk home, so I decided to do it, again alone. When I was about a block and a half from my home, two homeless guys who were sleeping in an alcove, stopped me and asked me if
I’d buy them a beer. I sat down and talked to them for a while, and I felt like we made friends so took my wallet out and gave them some money. They obviously saw how much more I had in there (which was quite bit because I´d been to the bank earlier in the day). I remained to talk with them for a while (badly), and they suggested we go to a bar near the house. I said no thanks, and then they asked again if I had any more notes.
Like an idiot, I took my wallet out with my right hand to check with my left. The next thing I remember is my left arm being grabbed from behind, while the guy who asked for the money grabbed my right hand and stripped out all the cash, a credit card, my (new, 5 year, $160) drivers licence, and my UTS student card. The guy behind me pushed me in the back of the head and ran off immediately. I lost my balance and fell. The guy who took the cash ran in the opposite direction, towards Avenida Corrientes, a main street, leaving me with an almost empty wallet (he didn’t get four pesos).
I tried to run after the guy with the cash for about 20 metres, but he had too much of a lead so I gave up and all I could think of doing was yelling ‘YOU FUCKING ASSHOLES!’ in English repeatedly. I felt betrayed after being kind to them. I jogged up to Corrientes, and a bunch of people were talking to two policemen. They’d seen the thief running and told the police where he’d gone. I ran up the cops and said I’d been robbed and they told me to get into their car. We drove around a bit, and I was asked what they’d been wearing, but I couldn’t remember and soon realized that the search was going to be fruitless. They dropped me home. The thieves got away with about 800 pesos, or 230 Aussie dollars.
So that’s that. My two robberies. They’ve made me feel embarrassed, naïve, stupid, saddened, and most of all extremely angry about both the experiences in different ways.
Firstly, the transvestites. The end result of this robbery was I got my phone back, so I wasn’t put out financially, or in terms of convenience. It would have been a serious hassle losing my phone and all the numbers it stores. In this way, it wasn’t as bad as losing the money I lost in the second robbery. It’s also kind of funny looking back on it, being robbed by two small ugly men dressed as women. It’s a funny image, me chasing a man in high heels.
But having said that, it is an EXTREMELY unpleasant experience being touched on the genitals by someone you don’t know. It’s something that no one has the right to do, except yourself, your partner, and maybe your doctor, or someone else you give permission to. It’s hard to imagine what it’s like until someone does it to you, but it’s an outrageous way to rob someone and I’m angry that they did it to me.
With the second robbery, I guess it’s partly because they got away with my money, but the anger was incredible. I stewed over it for days, absolutely fuming. But the anger was mixed with sadness. I felt betrayed because I’d been trying to lend a hand, but I also felt stupid. I mean, what a stupid thing to do, stopping to talk to two homeless guys in the middle of the night. It made me look at everyone differently for a few days. Ever since, I haven’t opened my wallet for anyone asking for money.
The second robbery also felt like it was partly my fault. It was late, I was alone, I had been drinking, and I showed my terrible Spanish and my money to two homeless guys. All of these things put a huge target on my back. It was stupid.
But it’s not as much my fault as it is theirs. After all, they were the ones who robbed me. I couldn’t have been robbed without them. I know they’re poor, and it was a lot of money, perhaps too much to resist, or enough to take the risk. But in the end, it was my money, not theirs, and I’d given them what I was willing to give already. They shouldn’t have taken advantage of me.
But they probably didn’t rob me because they wanted to, but because they had to. They probably had other problems such as addiction which prevent them from finding legitimate work. Or once they became homeless, the vicious cycle repeated itself. It’s a lot of money to them, and money I can probably afford to lose. Maybe it’ll help them to get out of their rut.
I thought about all the things they could be doing with my money. Perhaps they’d meet up the next day and buy a nice suit each, and a bunch of roses, and walk around to restaurants selling them at a profit. Or perhaps they could hire a hotel room for a week or two, get clean, buy some nice clothes and look for a job. Maybe they’d go to the casino and put it all on red, twice, and quadruple their money, and next time they see me they’ll give me my money back with a thank you card and a box of chocolates.
I really hope they did something like that with it.
I also hope they each bought a dodgy empanada and had terrible diarrhea for a week, and while lying in a puddle of their own shit with unbearable stomach cramps, another homeless person offered to buy them medicine, and as they looked up at him with thanks in their eyes and hope in their hearts he snatched my money from them and ran away down the street never to be seen again.
I’m not alone in the robbery boat. Yasmin had her phone stolen in a crowed bar, one of the first weeks we were here. The other day, Hilary had someone ride past on a bicycle and try to grab her phone (which he then dropped, and scratched). A girl called Emma from New Zealand had her back snatched, but managed to retrieve it. An English girl from my Spanish class had her bag stolen while sitting outside at a restaurant. On the Subway, Em and I witnessed an Argentinean man nearly have a gold chain yanked from his neck through the window, as the train pulled away. Lander, a Mexican (who has never been robbed in Mexico) forgot his bag in a shop at a mall, and later saw a lady walking around with it, claiming it was hers. He got it back after following her all the way to the train station.
But the one that has upset me most is that an absolutely charming, lovely Norwegian bloke from our Spanish class, Magnus, was beaten up on the weekend, suffered a broken nose and rib and had to spend two days in the hospital. For a little bit of money.
So from now on, here’s what I’m going to do to avoid this awfulness, and I suggest that if you’re in Buenos Aires, you take the same precautions;
• I’m not going to walk anywhere alone at night, especially after midnight, and super-especially when intoxicated. I’ll take a taxi. Before midnight, I’ll take main streets as much as possible.
• I’m not going to stop to talk to anyone, unless I know them.
• I’m not going to give anyone any money, even during the day.
• I’m going to vigilantly watch my possessions, especially in crowded areas.
• I’m not going to carry large amounts of money with me anywhere. Only what I need.
• I’m not going to openly or loudly display the fact I don’t speak Spanish very well – it makes the target on your back that much bigger.
I guess these things seem obvious. Maybe I was becoming a little too comfortable here. But I’ve learned my lessons and hopefully it won’t happen again.
The first unpleasant experience was after I left a party in San Telmo, and started walking in the wrong direction towards La Boca, alone. The Lonely Planet, and many other people, including taxi drivers advise you to avoid this area at night. It was around two or three in the morning and I had been drinking with the girls and some other friends from my University. We’d met up with random Canadians, Hong Kongeans, Americans, outside of supermarkets and other places and they’d ended up accompanying us to various parties around the city. I’d had a really good night, but it was time to call it quits so I left and started heading home.
I remember walking up a well lit street lined by trees, when I noticed a man dressed as a woman coming towards me. He had big bushy hair and came straight up to me, whispering something in my ear. I basically just said no thanks and kept walking. He followed me for a bit, and as I approached a corner, I noticed another transvestite who was going for the Peruvian ‘chola’ look. Both were ugly as shit. There was absolutely no mistaking them for women.
The chola started whispering things in my ear, and I tried to ignore her too and keep walking. But then they started touching me, putting their arms around me, and ultimately groping my testicles. There was no way they could have thought I was interested, because I was making that clear, so I realized they were probably touching my balls as a distraction to pickpocketing me. So I put my hands in my pockets to cover my phone and my wallet, and to ensure their hands weren’t going in there, but then they’d go straight back to squeezing my nuts which meant I’d have to take my hands out of my pockets and bat theirs away.
Eventually they let up and walked away. So I checked my pockets for the final time and realized my phone was gone. Immediately, I moved quickly towards the bushy haired one, and said to her very nicely in Spanish; ‘Please, I’m Australian. Give me my phone’. She initially ignored it and walked away, but I followed and kept repeating it louder and louder and with more urgency, in part, hoping neighbours would hear.
She started moving away more quickly once my voice became raised, but she was hampered by her high heels, so I didn’t have much trouble keeping up with her. I followed her for about 2 blocks, and we crossed the street multiple times. At one stage, trying to scare me, she picked up an empty beer bottle and smashed it against a gutter holding the neck in her hand. But it wasn’t for very long, and she threw it away and kept moving. I grabbed her arm multiple times and she wrenched away from me.
The chola was following us for this, and I could tell that she, in particular, was incredibly uncomfortable with the situation. I kept trying to grab the one who had my phone, and eventually just started yelling ‘Help me! and ‘Police!’. The Chola said something to the bushy haired one, and she obviously weighed up the pros and cons of the situation and my phone was out of her purse and in my hand. I got out of there in the first taxi I could find, upset and scared, but luckily, not lacking any of my personal items.
The second unpleasant experience happened on Easter Sunday. I had been drinking at an American bar with a friend from uni called Brennan. We´d been having fun, watching baseball and talking to various people from around the world. It was especially fun listening to Brennan convince two other Americans he was Australian, with a pretty average Australian accent.
Again, we left late, probably at about 2am. It was only a seven block walk home, so I decided to do it, again alone. When I was about a block and a half from my home, two homeless guys who were sleeping in an alcove, stopped me and asked me if
I’d buy them a beer. I sat down and talked to them for a while, and I felt like we made friends so took my wallet out and gave them some money. They obviously saw how much more I had in there (which was quite bit because I´d been to the bank earlier in the day). I remained to talk with them for a while (badly), and they suggested we go to a bar near the house. I said no thanks, and then they asked again if I had any more notes.
Like an idiot, I took my wallet out with my right hand to check with my left. The next thing I remember is my left arm being grabbed from behind, while the guy who asked for the money grabbed my right hand and stripped out all the cash, a credit card, my (new, 5 year, $160) drivers licence, and my UTS student card. The guy behind me pushed me in the back of the head and ran off immediately. I lost my balance and fell. The guy who took the cash ran in the opposite direction, towards Avenida Corrientes, a main street, leaving me with an almost empty wallet (he didn’t get four pesos).
I tried to run after the guy with the cash for about 20 metres, but he had too much of a lead so I gave up and all I could think of doing was yelling ‘YOU FUCKING ASSHOLES!’ in English repeatedly. I felt betrayed after being kind to them. I jogged up to Corrientes, and a bunch of people were talking to two policemen. They’d seen the thief running and told the police where he’d gone. I ran up the cops and said I’d been robbed and they told me to get into their car. We drove around a bit, and I was asked what they’d been wearing, but I couldn’t remember and soon realized that the search was going to be fruitless. They dropped me home. The thieves got away with about 800 pesos, or 230 Aussie dollars.
So that’s that. My two robberies. They’ve made me feel embarrassed, naïve, stupid, saddened, and most of all extremely angry about both the experiences in different ways.
Firstly, the transvestites. The end result of this robbery was I got my phone back, so I wasn’t put out financially, or in terms of convenience. It would have been a serious hassle losing my phone and all the numbers it stores. In this way, it wasn’t as bad as losing the money I lost in the second robbery. It’s also kind of funny looking back on it, being robbed by two small ugly men dressed as women. It’s a funny image, me chasing a man in high heels.
But having said that, it is an EXTREMELY unpleasant experience being touched on the genitals by someone you don’t know. It’s something that no one has the right to do, except yourself, your partner, and maybe your doctor, or someone else you give permission to. It’s hard to imagine what it’s like until someone does it to you, but it’s an outrageous way to rob someone and I’m angry that they did it to me.
With the second robbery, I guess it’s partly because they got away with my money, but the anger was incredible. I stewed over it for days, absolutely fuming. But the anger was mixed with sadness. I felt betrayed because I’d been trying to lend a hand, but I also felt stupid. I mean, what a stupid thing to do, stopping to talk to two homeless guys in the middle of the night. It made me look at everyone differently for a few days. Ever since, I haven’t opened my wallet for anyone asking for money.
The second robbery also felt like it was partly my fault. It was late, I was alone, I had been drinking, and I showed my terrible Spanish and my money to two homeless guys. All of these things put a huge target on my back. It was stupid.
But it’s not as much my fault as it is theirs. After all, they were the ones who robbed me. I couldn’t have been robbed without them. I know they’re poor, and it was a lot of money, perhaps too much to resist, or enough to take the risk. But in the end, it was my money, not theirs, and I’d given them what I was willing to give already. They shouldn’t have taken advantage of me.
But they probably didn’t rob me because they wanted to, but because they had to. They probably had other problems such as addiction which prevent them from finding legitimate work. Or once they became homeless, the vicious cycle repeated itself. It’s a lot of money to them, and money I can probably afford to lose. Maybe it’ll help them to get out of their rut.
I thought about all the things they could be doing with my money. Perhaps they’d meet up the next day and buy a nice suit each, and a bunch of roses, and walk around to restaurants selling them at a profit. Or perhaps they could hire a hotel room for a week or two, get clean, buy some nice clothes and look for a job. Maybe they’d go to the casino and put it all on red, twice, and quadruple their money, and next time they see me they’ll give me my money back with a thank you card and a box of chocolates.
I really hope they did something like that with it.
I also hope they each bought a dodgy empanada and had terrible diarrhea for a week, and while lying in a puddle of their own shit with unbearable stomach cramps, another homeless person offered to buy them medicine, and as they looked up at him with thanks in their eyes and hope in their hearts he snatched my money from them and ran away down the street never to be seen again.
I’m not alone in the robbery boat. Yasmin had her phone stolen in a crowed bar, one of the first weeks we were here. The other day, Hilary had someone ride past on a bicycle and try to grab her phone (which he then dropped, and scratched). A girl called Emma from New Zealand had her back snatched, but managed to retrieve it. An English girl from my Spanish class had her bag stolen while sitting outside at a restaurant. On the Subway, Em and I witnessed an Argentinean man nearly have a gold chain yanked from his neck through the window, as the train pulled away. Lander, a Mexican (who has never been robbed in Mexico) forgot his bag in a shop at a mall, and later saw a lady walking around with it, claiming it was hers. He got it back after following her all the way to the train station.
But the one that has upset me most is that an absolutely charming, lovely Norwegian bloke from our Spanish class, Magnus, was beaten up on the weekend, suffered a broken nose and rib and had to spend two days in the hospital. For a little bit of money.
So from now on, here’s what I’m going to do to avoid this awfulness, and I suggest that if you’re in Buenos Aires, you take the same precautions;
• I’m not going to walk anywhere alone at night, especially after midnight, and super-especially when intoxicated. I’ll take a taxi. Before midnight, I’ll take main streets as much as possible.
• I’m not going to stop to talk to anyone, unless I know them.
• I’m not going to give anyone any money, even during the day.
• I’m going to vigilantly watch my possessions, especially in crowded areas.
• I’m not going to carry large amounts of money with me anywhere. Only what I need.
• I’m not going to openly or loudly display the fact I don’t speak Spanish very well – it makes the target on your back that much bigger.
I guess these things seem obvious. Maybe I was becoming a little too comfortable here. But I’ve learned my lessons and hopefully it won’t happen again.
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