Friday, May 25th, 2012
Feliz día de la
revolución! This is basically the Argie independence day and although I’m
really hoping for fireworks, hot dogs and watermelon, it’s actually a cold day
with no sparklers in sight. But I’ve got my big bow in my hair to show my
non-native pride and getting honked at more than ever by the taxistas who are
also showing their pride too. To celebrate, we were told there would be a big
celebration at la feria de los mataderos, which is pretty much as far away from
my house as I can get. It’s still in Buenos Aires, but at the very fringe of
the city and the buses (yes, plural) to get there had to pass through the
provincial Buenos Aires outskirts…I really hope this is an awesome feria…
I hailed the 161 not really knowing where I was going, but
only that I was at least going in the right direction. This bus ride was
supposed to be about an hour which kinda freaked me out, because after 30
minutes I start getting paranoid about where my stop is and if we’re passing it
or not—even when I am looking directly at the map. Not to mention everybody
gave me the eye when they walked past me—“what’s SHE doing on this bus?!?”
60 long, stressful and kinda paranoid minutes later, I was
waiting for the 80 on a really sketchy corner and even though it was broad
daylight, this was definitely a different part of BA and I clearly stood out.
Luckily I didn’t have to wait long and had a little more confidence as this was
a shorter bus ride. I finally arrived at the feria and started walking around
as I looked for Angela. WHAT!? I took an hour and a half bus ride for THIS!? It
looked like a garage sale, the kind that you’d drive past. I finally got a hold
of Angela who told me to keep on walking to get to the real stuff. Ok, that’s
more like it.
I met her on the corner where there was a bar notable (duly
noted!) and we browsed the whole feria as I managed to keep my purchases to a
minimum only buying a necklace, though the fair had a lot to offer. Being that
we were hungry and didn’t want to wait in the choripan line, we went back to
the bar notable where we somehow managed to score a seat. Unfortunately the bar
was a little run down, but the tango stage suggested it was still alive in
spirit. Submarino in hand, we enjoyed the warmth of the café and the murmurs of
porteños.
When my salad came, the only dressing was the classic oil and
vinegar, but it’s not balsamic vinegar and this vinegar ruins the salad, IMHO,
so I decided I was going to have to take the salt route. Jokingly and a little
too loudly I exclaimed “Soy argentina!” (“I’m Argentine!”) because they’re
known to put way too much salt on everything, even things that you wouldn’t
typically put salt on or that already have salt in them. The family sitting
next to us glanced over at me and started laughing because I am clearly not
argentine, but when I gestured to the salt and motioned that I was pouring a
lot of it, they laughed, indicating “yeah, we do do that!”.
Deciding we’d seen the best of the fair, we started the long
trek home, this time taking the 55. Which was of course packed when we got on.
I was exhausted for some reason and was actually about to fall asleep on the
bus. Thus preventing me from making my way down to the Plaza de Mayo to see
another celebration. The cool thing was that on the bus I felt like we were
going on streets I knew, but in ways I hadn’t seen before and I thought of an
idea for later—to ride random buses just for the view and to get better
acquainted with the city because even after several months here, I’m still
discovering pockets of BA I didn’t even know about. This city is endless,
despite its very well defined borders (that I crossed today!).
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