I recently got back from a trip to Argentina, and mid-air during the return flight, I decided firmly on three things, each pertaining to why I now preferred Buenos Aires to Santiago.
1.) The men are more attractive.
2.) Everything is cheaper.
3.) The meat tastes better.
And so it went that I chanted these three new facts, (as well as several others) over and over in my tired head for the duration of the flight and well into the next morning. Forget that I´d been there for just 72 hours—I knew in those three days that this city I´d discovered was infinitely better than the one I´d been residing in for over four months. I couldn´t wait to book another ticket to go back and further explore the place I knew would eventually become one in which i resided. I envisioned myself living comfortably in one of the apartment buildings I´d seen near our hostel, and laboring professionally in one of the swank offices I´d seen near our hostel, and swilling cocktails at one of the tango bars that I´d seen, um, near our hostel. And with that final glorious vision of myself dancing the night away with a handsome stranger floating above my head, I ran snack into the profound and disappointing realization that I knew absolutely nothing about Buenos Aires. I knew it was in Argentina. And I could definitely find it on a map. Oh and I knew how to a take a taxi from the hostel to just about anywhere near the hostel. With a sad sigh I hung my head and accepted this new sense of deflation Of course I´d noticed the people were better looking. There were sixteen million of them to choose from, nearly triple the options available here in ol´Santiago. Buenos Aires trumphs through ratios alone. And it´s not like I kept a tally of all the ones I didn´t find enticing, (though there were plenty.) Then of course there were the lower prices I found so delightful, but without a moment´s attention as to how those prices originated (hello currency collapse!) and where they would be heading in the future. I just wanted to live there because it was exciting and different and it meant I didn´t have to come back and be a semi-adult in a city that was already familiar to me. A city that had seen me cry and sweat and grasp for understanding. A city where I had to sleep and work and budget my finances and ask for directions. A city, essentially, that I´d shed of its original plastic wrapping to get a real sense of it beneath the shiny facade of the box it came in. Now, instead of An Adventure in South America!, I was living in A Real Experience. One that wasn´t always particularly forgiving or kind, but one I´d legitimately sunk my teeth into and found satisfying pleasure in its hybrid of sweet and bitter tastes. I hadn´t even ridden the metro in Buenos Aires! We opted for cabs the whole weekend because ¨hey, we were on vacation.¨
So, here I am, stable and situated and, as of present, sans an Argentinian plane ticket. I´m sure I´ll go back, but the urgency to escape has lessened considerably in light of my exposed delusions—(well, in light of most of them. The meat is still better regardless of how close it was to my hostel.)
1.) The men are more attractive.
2.) Everything is cheaper.
3.) The meat tastes better.
And so it went that I chanted these three new facts, (as well as several others) over and over in my tired head for the duration of the flight and well into the next morning. Forget that I´d been there for just 72 hours—I knew in those three days that this city I´d discovered was infinitely better than the one I´d been residing in for over four months. I couldn´t wait to book another ticket to go back and further explore the place I knew would eventually become one in which i resided. I envisioned myself living comfortably in one of the apartment buildings I´d seen near our hostel, and laboring professionally in one of the swank offices I´d seen near our hostel, and swilling cocktails at one of the tango bars that I´d seen, um, near our hostel. And with that final glorious vision of myself dancing the night away with a handsome stranger floating above my head, I ran snack into the profound and disappointing realization that I knew absolutely nothing about Buenos Aires. I knew it was in Argentina. And I could definitely find it on a map. Oh and I knew how to a take a taxi from the hostel to just about anywhere near the hostel. With a sad sigh I hung my head and accepted this new sense of deflation Of course I´d noticed the people were better looking. There were sixteen million of them to choose from, nearly triple the options available here in ol´Santiago. Buenos Aires trumphs through ratios alone. And it´s not like I kept a tally of all the ones I didn´t find enticing, (though there were plenty.) Then of course there were the lower prices I found so delightful, but without a moment´s attention as to how those prices originated (hello currency collapse!) and where they would be heading in the future. I just wanted to live there because it was exciting and different and it meant I didn´t have to come back and be a semi-adult in a city that was already familiar to me. A city that had seen me cry and sweat and grasp for understanding. A city where I had to sleep and work and budget my finances and ask for directions. A city, essentially, that I´d shed of its original plastic wrapping to get a real sense of it beneath the shiny facade of the box it came in. Now, instead of An Adventure in South America!, I was living in A Real Experience. One that wasn´t always particularly forgiving or kind, but one I´d legitimately sunk my teeth into and found satisfying pleasure in its hybrid of sweet and bitter tastes. I hadn´t even ridden the metro in Buenos Aires! We opted for cabs the whole weekend because ¨hey, we were on vacation.¨
So, here I am, stable and situated and, as of present, sans an Argentinian plane ticket. I´m sure I´ll go back, but the urgency to escape has lessened considerably in light of my exposed delusions—(well, in light of most of them. The meat is still better regardless of how close it was to my hostel.)
4 comments:
Everything has a sheen and luster at first. And just the same, everything loses that sheen and luster in fairly quick fashion. I mean look how quickly the Bush administration lost its appeal! Once we were all held in thrall by the promises of that master politician - his swagger, his down-to-earth demeanor, his promise to make the world a better place. We believed theses Republican ideals, Caira! What fools we were! What simps! Now if we could just get a real Republican like John McCain in the White House, there might be a chance to turn this whole mess around. Keep praying! I'm not sure what any of this has to do with South America...but I love you all the same. Fight the good fight, Conner. I believe in you.
Don't second guess instinct. The truth is that Buenos Aires REALLY IS BETTER. I know because I spent 1/3 of my SOUTH AMERICAN ADVENTURE there. I'll give you three good reasons. First, concert tours. Western bands are much more likely to come to BA than to STown. (This first point assumes you haven't fallen victim to the dreaded 'Cumbia'.) Second, architecture. BA is comprised largely of beautiful prewar (which war?) buildings. Even the crappy areas of BA are more interesting than the modern shiny parts of Santiago. Third mate, cafe, ice cream, fresh pasta, and beef. All are deeeply ingrained in porteno culture. While each of these on its own is not a reason to celebrate, they combine to create this static truth: BA is NYC as Santiago is to...Dallas.
Ok, maybe Sacramento.
Ok, maybe I'm a little biased here. And besides, I only spent 36 hours in Santiago :) Keep on C
My friend's account of Buenos Aires lust:
http://corrugatedcity.blogspot.com/2008/06/valparaiso-not-simple-love-affair.html
Oh haven't we all had that feeling ater visiting BA. That, why-the-flying-f#ck-did-I-choose-to-live-in-Santiago feeling? Yes,I know it well. But, alas, there are probably just as many annoyances there as there are here and surely the low prices, as you pointed out, are only a reflection of the sorry state of Argentina's economic affairs which would surely be more of an issue for you if you were in fact working and living there. That said, lemme know if you wanna head back, I'm more than down for a trip to the cheap-o Paris of the Southern hemisphere!
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