I have been told that patience is the the key with this city. It's like an Argentine. All the flaws you see in it make it what it is. A wonderful city willing to offer so much, if you're willing to wait around and stick out it's bullshit. Once you get past this you begin to get so much more out of the city. Let me just say, I'm enjoying this new relationship I have with the city. Either that, or I'm being brainwashed by the government being run by the mafia.
In other strides to further adjust to the city, I'll be moving this week. I found the place on Friday and I have a great feeling about it. It's in a neighborhood called San Telmo, a quaint, artsy barrio filled with antique shops and bars. So, it's my heaven? The price of the place is amazing, which was a big selling point on my thrifty budget. I'll have to juggle both apartments for a week or so, because I didn't want to risk losing the opportunity for this new place, even though my rent at my current place isn't up until the 18 of this month.
I've decided to start a segment within my blog. Even though this blog fails to contain structure or
a proper fan base, I've decided it needs a segment about the experiences I have on the collectivos in Buenos Aires. It's true I spend a lot of my time hanging out with collectivo drivers. I could lessen this quality time if I wasn't so cheap and took taxis. Or if I wasn't so desperate for homemade goodies every sunday, as to take classes a forty-five minute bus ride to do so. As I spend so much time on this one means of transportation, I'm bound to stumble across a freak or two. So here are a few incidences to get an understanding of what kind of free entertainment comes with public transportation in BsAs.
Situation One: Argentines, as in most of Latin America, are macho, but really is there the need to do arm-curls on the bus rails to prove this point? I think not. So, thanks macho man for the 45 minutes of attempted strength exercises and using the bus as your personal gym. You just made me feel bad for eating that alfahor. But wait, I don't look as stupid as you do.
Situation Two: Time three forty-five in the morning: Enter two, clearly hammered, young Argentine guys. One rides the bus for about two stops (four-six blocks) and as the bus passes a church I catch in the corner of my eye one clumsy sign of the cross and kiss to the palm of the hand, from the other guy. Even in a state of drunkenness they never forget their rituals. Or evidently where the three hundred churches are in the city.
Situation Three: American music has a clearly established element with-in the culture. A fact I'm neither too ecstatic nor disappointed by. So what I would like to know is anyone else entertained by the gentleman in the back of the bus jamming out to Guns n' Roses on his cell phone speakers for the whole bus to hear? I think the lady tapping her white converse to "Sweet Child o' Mine" is enjoying it. Oh, wait here comes "Paradise City," I hope this doesn't lead to a spaghetti incident.
These are just things that have occurred recently. And with my move will come all new bus routes. So I better get ready for a whole new kind of people. All new kinds of situations.
Besides feeling quite the romance with the city I'm living in, I have discovered the jackpot for free screenings of films throughout the city. I'll be filling in my time by accompanying myself to these events in the hope that some overly-good looking Argentine man will strike up a conversation with me. Of course, all I really can expect is to get hit on by the construction workers on the way. But, one can hope. One can hope.