More Pictures of Christo

Chrsto Redentor (Christ the Redeemer)

Thursday, Feb 7 – Day 52

Waited for today to see Christo, hoping the crowd would be at a minimum. I asked the cabbie to take me to the Corcovado trem – the narrow gage train that takes you up the mountain. I had a reasonable idea of where we needed to go and thought that we were close, but after a while, I’m became pretty certain that we were off course. Turns out that the guy wanted to drive me up all the way up the mountain, which probably would have been an R$50.00 fare each way instead of the R$15.00 fare to the trem. The bastard knew I wanted the trem when I got in the cab, then when I called him on it; he pretended he didn’t understand me. I made him stop and turn around, and when we got to the trem, I only gave him the fare for the original distance. Overall, I found the public cabs to be quite safe and the drivers very friendly, but about half the time they tried to screw me by asking for a fixed fare off the meter, or by taking an indirect route to my destination.

Anyway, the statue of Christo is really pretty modest. It’s less than 100 feet tall (but this still qualifies it as the largest art-deco statue in the World), but it does stand on top of Mt. Corcovado, which is about 2,300 feet in elevation. You rarely see Christo from the beach areas, and in fact, he actually faces the other direction toward Zona Norte, the larger part of the city.

It was cloudy at the top so the pictures aren’t that good. In the first picture, I’m standing in front of Christo looking down on Sugarloaf. Copacabana Beach begins a little bit to the right.

The second picture is Ipanema (left half of the beach) and Leblon (right half of the beach). I’m standing under Christo’s right hand. The beach is about 2 miles long

The third picture is Sao Conrado, just further to the right of Leblon. The cylindrical building in the middle is across the street from my hotel, and you can see favela Rocinha in front of it. It’s 180 degrees from the picture of the favela a few postings earlier.

The last picture is looking up at Christo from in front of Botafugo Bay, which is between Sugarloaf and Mt. Corcovado.

In 1859, a local priest suggested they put a religious monument on top of the mountain. He suggested that it be a tribute to Princess Isabella. However, it took 63 years to build the railroad track to the tip of the mountain, and by that time, the idea had changed to that of Christo. The original design called for Him to be holding a cross, but public opinion did not support it and it was re-designed with the “open arms”. Though it was designed by a local engineer, the structure was actually built in France (I believe), shipped over in pieces and assembled on top of the mountain. It took about 4 years to build, and was completed in 1931.

About Rio

Wednesday, Feb 6 – Day 51

Rio has a population of about 7 million compared to Sao Palo’s +/-25 million (it’s only about 300 miles away from Rio). Brazil’s land mass is 10% larger than the US, and it has just over half the population. Rio was a shipping center for supplies during Brazil’s gold rush in the 1700’s, and became the country’s capital in 1762. In 1808, Portuguese prince Dom Joao, who later became King, fled Lisbon ahead of Napoleon’s armies and set up shop here in Rio. He brought 12,000 of his noble buddies, and they began to transform the city’s culture.

Rio grew at a rapid pace, and by the late 1800’a, was once one of the largest cities in the world. After World War II, most of the country’s industrial base moved to Sao Palo, the capital was move to Brasilia in the early 1960’s, and Rio entered a period of decline that lasted through the 1980’s. This is when the city became notorious for its crime problems, and it seems to be a legacy that won’t go away.

Geographically, the city’s beaches face South and East. Along the Eastern side Guanabara Bay, which divides the city into a large Northern part and a smaller Southern part. The airport sits on an island in the bay. Zona Sul, the Southern part, is the tourist area. There is no reason to ever go to Zona Norte.

Copacabana is an interesting place. The guide books and blogs tend to give the impression that it is past its prime and a little seedy. It was developed in the 1920’s, and its centerpiece is the absolutely stunning Copacabana Palace hotel. Ipanema and Leblon are said to be the more trendy areas, while Sao Conrado is older people, bigger $’s, a smaller beach, and quiet.

The beachfronts of Copa, Ipanema, and Leblon all looked the same to me – block after block of 10 to 20 story condo buildings, with a sprinkling of hotels. A block or two inland, where most of the retail is located, Copacabana does look rather tired compared to Ipanema and Leblon, but to be honest, none of it looks all that great.

Along all of the beaches, there are numerous small kiosks that sell a variety of drinks and food. Most are not much more than a 10’x10’ wooden box with a few plastic tables, some umbrellas, and plastic chairs. They sell beer, water, coconuts, and some snacks. Copa also has these really nice “kiosks” that are pretty stylish, and you can actually have a nice lunch there. These locations also have a public restroom and shower, but you have to pay an attendant to use them. This one had the oddest-looking urinal I think I’ve ever seen. Both the sink and the urinal are made up of clear green glass. When I first walked in, I wasn’t sure which one I was supposed to pee in. In both, the bottom piece of glass is angled away from you, and then there’s about a 3 inch gap at the wall where everything just falls to a single drain in the floor. Now that’s different.

Fat Tuesday

Tuesday, Feb 5 – Day 50

The committee announced this morning that perennial favorite Beja Flor is the Carnaval winner. Beja Flor has won something like 7 of the last 10 Carnavals. They were the very last parade of the night, so I wasn’t around to watch. They show the entire set of parades on TV the following day, so I watched that, but I would have given my vote to Imperatriz, another crowd favorite. Beja Flor had 4,200 dancers, and spent R$4.0 million on their parade.

There was a little controversy this year as one of the dancers for samba school Sao Clemente was completely nude, which is a serious violation. It seems that her “costume”, which consisted of a single 3.5 mm piece of glitter, apparently fell off. As a penalty for this offense, the team was dropped to last place, which means they get relegated down to second division next year, and will not be able to compete as a special school in the Sambodromo.

There are more blocos this afternoon, but I stayed home and rested up for The Scala Ball. In addition to the blocos, there are a small number of “bailes” or semi-private balls that you have to either be invited to or buy a ticket for. The most formal is the Baile do Copa, a black-tie and lavishly costumed affair at the Copacabana Palace that brings in all of Rio’s high society.

The Scala Ball is the most infamous of the bailes. It’s billed as a mostly gay event, but I had a date and was with a group, so I’m not bothered by that. But yikes, this was one weird crowd! Live cameras and TV hosts vie for positions along a red carpet entry to interview the drag-queens with the most outrageous costumes. I’m sure that we’re on TV as we entered the room behind a 6’6”, 300 lb guy wearing a lavish dress and feathers in his hair that made him 8’ tall. And he turned out to be one of the more conservatively dressed people in the place. Other costumes, of both men and women, were just insane. It was interesting for a while, and there is nothing better than watching some really attractive Brazilian girls samba, but as it got later, it began to feel like the dark underside of Carnaval so we left about midnight and found a more traditional dance club.

If This Were Your Girlfriend....

Why in the world would you want to wear a pink dress? I just don't get that. For some reason or another, however, a lot of guys seem to want to wear dresses.

Carnaval!

Mon., Feb 4 – Day 49

The two biggest days of Carnaval are the Sunday and Monday before Fat Tuesday. Each night, 6 of the 12 Special Samba Schools will parade down the Sambodromo – a 70,000 seat, mile-long stadium built specifically for Carnaval. Each school is made up of 4,000 to 6,000 people, and they really do compete. A samba school is generally associated with a particular favela, or neighborhood, and there are many more than just the 12 Special Schools. The Special Schools are the top division, but there are other divisions also. And to keep the pressure on, they use a relegation system like the English rugby leagues where the bottom two in the top division are relegated down, and the top two schools in the second division are relegated up.

There’s a huge sense of pride among the people and the favelas in keeping their school in the top category, and they work year-round on the effort. Each school has a “queen”, which is a very high honor, and most will also have a celebrity participant. Anyone, however, can actually participate in the parades. As a fund-raising device, the schools sell spots in the parade for +/- US$400 and up. The lowest price gets you a basic costume and you become one of the masses that create color and motion around the floats. For more money, you get a more elaborate costume and more prominent position. For these spots, though, you usually have to submit a picture and audition to show that you know what you’re doing. The downside of being in the parade is that you have to leave the Sambodromo as soon as your school finishes. You don’t get to stay and see the other parades unless you have purchased another ticket. You also have to spend a couple hours at a practice session (the regular members of the school have been practicing every Saturday since September, and they don’t want you to blow it for them), and then you have to be at the Sambodromo a couple hours before your parade time for staging. Spots are limited and sell out quickly, so you have to plan ahead. As a first-timer, I’m glad that I chose to watch, but next time I’m going to be in the parade.

The regular tickets for the Sambodromo also sell out quickly. Someone told me this year’s tickets sold out in less than ½ an hour. Two tourist agencies are given an allocation of tickets to sell to foreigners, and these are marked up about 100% (or more) from what the locals pay. I looked at the two web sites, and the cheap seats were running about US $300 per night. The agencies both state that they are the only legitimate sources for tickets, and that buying from scalpers is illegal and dangerous. Buying from any another agency is supposedly even more expensive because they would be marking up from these agencies’ prices. Reading some travel blogs, I learned that there does seem to be an active scalpers market, but that it’s hard to make a deal unless you speak Portuguese as the criminal element rarely spends time learning another language. Since I’m there for both nights, I figure I’ll take my chances with the scalpers on the first night, then pay through the nose the second night if I get shut out (or arrested).

I forgot that the first night was Super Bowl Sunday. I watched the game at the Marriott on Copacabana with a flight crew from United Airlines, so looks like it’s going be all or nothing with the scalpers. On Monday evening I talk to a cab driver who says he wants R$75.00 to take me to the Sambodromo and R$150.00 to bring me back home. On both Carnaval nights, all the cab drivers work on a flat fee based on the area you coming from or going to. So I decided that I’d take the subway for R$4.80 (both ways). Anyway, how dangerous can the Rio subway be at 4:00 am for a non-Portuguese speaking white guy that’s never used the system?

I exit the train station a couple blocks from the Sambodromo, and once again, everyone that owns a small cooler is selling beer. Others have set up their little hibachis and are selling some sort of meat on a stick for R$1.00. I walked around a bit, then picked out a spot near an entry gate and just sort of stood there. Looking like an obvious tourist, the scalpers started coming up to me and saying, “grass?” At first, I thought they were selling dope, which was somewhat startling since there were not only a lot of police around, but a lot of heavily armed military types as well. It turns out that what they were actually saying was “ingres” (Portuguese for ingress, or enter, with the accent on the last syllable), it’s their word for ticket. OK, now I can start bargaining.

The first parade had already started, and one guy says that he has a ticket for R$700.00. It’s a good seat, but I tell him that I only have R$50.00. He offered a seat in another section for R$300.00, and I told him again that I only had R$50.00. Another scalper comes over, and I tell him the same story. A few minutes later, the first guy comes back, speaks better English and drops his prices a little. I told him that I only wanted to see one parade, and that otherwise, it just wasn’t that big a deal to me. Then I bought a beer from the a standing next to me. About 15 minutes later, he comes up with another seat for $50.00. I’ve looked at a seating chart, and know that these are complimentary tickets that are given to locals that have a connection to a school. They are at the end of the Sambodromo, so it’s not a prime seat, but hey, the price is right. So I offered $30.00. He countered at R$35.00, and I told him “OK, R$35.00, but you have to buy me a beer”. Sold!

Once inside, I met a couple of cute girls from London. They said they paid 100 pounds each for their tickets. I’m getting along well with them and a friend theirs, an Australian guy with a spike in his lip, comes up and joins the conversation. He made some kind of comment to one of the girls about me being old, but I couldn’t make it all out. He’s a twenty-something knucklehead staying in a crappy hostel and after complaining about the poor condition of his “accommodations” asked me about my hotel. I told him “Well, it is on the beach. But I’ve also got three pools, a swim-up bar, a golf course, and a helicopter landing pad. So, it’s pretty nice”. Then, just for kicks, I said “If you plan on keeping that piece of metal in your lip, you might just have to get used to the current standard of your living conditions”. He didn’t seem to get my point, but the English girls did.

Being a forty-something knucklehead, I left my camera battery in the charger at the hotel. Amanda said I could download some of her pictures, but otherwise, I’m sure that it’s easy enough to find a few pictures on the web, or a video on YouTube, and I encourage you to have a look. Each parade starts with a massive fireworks display. Then, each school has a time limit of one hour and fifteen minutes to make it from one end of the Sambodromo to the other.

The parades are truly an amazing thing to see. The parade lane is probably 20 yards wide and white. It gets swept clean after each school. The whole thing is lit up like a stage with searing white light, which makes all the colors of the costumes and floats seem electric. Though all of the colors and sounds were spectacular, the floats and the stadium seemed a little smaller in person than they do on TV.

Around the Sambodromo, kids pass out triangular paper fans that also have the words to each school’s samba song printed on them. A lot of the people have been practicing the songs for weeks and know them by heart, but the really cool thing is that everyone stands, sings, and dances to the songs for the full duration of the parade. And not just for the parade of their favorite school, but for ALL of the parades.

Starting at about 9:30 pm, with six parades and a bit of an intermission for clean-up between each one, the final parade finishes at a bout sunrise. I left at about 4:00 am, picking up a couple of R$1.00 kabobs on my way to the subway. The subway is actually very safe, clean, and efficient, and it runs 24 hours per day during Carnaval.

Carnaval Costumes

Here are some of the primary Carnaval costumes that were used in last year’s parades. They were on display at my hotel. Pretty elaborate stuff, huh? These are used as the centerpiece of a float, and are so big and cumbersome, that the people wearing them can’t really move around. They just kind of turn from side to side and wave at the crowd.

All of the costumes are hand-made each year. Not just these costumes, but every one of the thousands of costumes for each school. It really has become an entire industry in itself, and operates year-round.

Sorry About Short E-Mail Responses

Just wanted to take a moment to apologize to everyone for my short e-mail responses. Since my house doesn't have an internet connection, I have to go to a locutorio to get connected. It's both slow and expensive, and I also have to work within the charge time of my battery.

I hope to be able to spend a little more time on this once I get to somewhere more civilized, but I think that my next extended stop is going to be on a galcier in Chile.

Anyway, please bear with me. I do enjoy all of the comments, though.

This is a Favela

Sunday, February 4 – Day 47

The Intercontinental Hotel, is on Sao Conrado Beach (in Portuguese, the “r” is pronounced like a “j” – no wonder the cabbies can never understood me). It’s a really nice place, and is just around the big mountain that you see in the first picture of the last post. In this picture, just beyond the nice high-rise condos is Rocinha, a favela of some 100,000 people. These little slums are squished in hard against the steep mountainsides, and in a lot of places, are right next to very affluent neighborhoods, or tourist areas. You can see Christo Redentor (Christ the Redeemer) in the background.

Most of the poor living here are said to be pretty hard-working people. The drug dealers like living in the favelas because there is usually only one way in, and they can control it. Since the police won’t go into these areas unless they have a force numbering in the 100’s, the local crime families are the de-facto law in these areas. Like any good crime boss, you don’t want to give the police a reason to poke around on your turf, so it’s said that they do try to keep the petty crime in the adjacent tourist areas to a minimum. Step into their territory, on the other hand, and all bets are off.

The Copacabana, Ipanema, and Leblon beach areas are all quite interesting. Though every building along the beach is 10 to 20 floors, there are hardly any retail businesses – like bars or restaurants – that face the beach. The vast majority of the buildings are residential condos with a 10 foot fence along the front, not hotels. At night, there is almost no pedestrian traffic. The only people that seem to have an interest in walking along the beach at night are the tourists, which kind of makes them a nice fat target for the muggers. All the retail stuff is a block or two inland, and still surprisingly sparse.

I met a couple of Hell’s Angels in front of one of the few beachfront bars called “Help” (no idea why they call it that). One of the guys had a Heritage Softail like mine. I tried to tell him that I had the same bike as him, but from the expression on his face, I think it came out that more along the lines of “Hey, I want your bike”. Anyway, it was a short conversation, and we left.

Blocos

Saturday, February 2, 2008 – Day 45

This is when Carnaval starts to kick into high gear, though the biggest nights are Sunday and Monday. There are bunches and bunches of local street parades called “blocos” or block parties, and they take place all across the city. I went to the Simpatica e Quase Amor bloco yesterday. It simply gathers at a park off Ipanema Beach, and just stays there. The crowd is probably +/- 5,000. A small samba band plays on the street corner, people are dressed in various costumes and dancing in the street, while dozens of entrepreneurial locals are selling beer, water, and hot dogs right there on the street.

Today, the Banda Ipanema bloco is supposed to start around 4:00 pm. It meets at the same park as yesterday’s bloco, and then parades down Avenida Vieria Souto, the main drag of Ipanema - it’s a six-land divided street running, right along the beach. I took the first photo at about 6:00 pm. These people are literally just stepping off the sand, and getting ready to watch the parade, or join in as it passes by.

The wild part is that there is no real theme to the parade except for the specific samba song they have chosen to sing. There are no floats, no plastic beads are thrown about, and there is no real sense of organization. Everyone just gathers in the street until the crowd gets so big, that it just starts to move on its own. As you can see in the pictures, there are literally tens of thousands of people marching. Drag queens, people in their swim suits, people dressed in other costumes, families with kids, grandparents, literally anybody and everybody participates in these parades. The Banda Impanema bloco is one of the largest and most popular, and they will do this again on Tuesday. Some of the blocos no longer publish a starting time because they have become too big for the areas in which they parade. It’s kind of hard to miss, however, when hundreds and then thousands have started to gather on the street corner.

Anyone with a cooler can sell beer on the side of the street, and there are hundreds people selling. A can of beer sells for R$1.89 in the grocery store, and R$2.00 on the street (just over US$1.00) – a pretty efficient market. At 3 beers for R$5.00, it’s actually cheaper to buy your beer on the street than from a grocery store. As you can see from the pictures, there are actually large trucks in the middle of the parade that are just there to sell more beer to the people that are IN the parade!

This parade was probably about a mile long, and as it finished, the scavengers followed right behind, picking up every beer can, plastic bottle, and piece of paper that was left behind. Ten minutes after the parade, the street is completely clean. Amazing. And throughout the entire parade, I think I saw a total of 4 policemen.

Afterwards, I met a couple of girls from, of all places, Costa Mesa. One has a brother that got married to a Brazilian girl a week ago. They came for the wedding, and then decided to stay for an extra day or two and take in a little bit of Carnaval. Their flight is at 7:00 am tomorrow morning, and since is the only day of Carnaval that they are going to see, it’s going to be a big one.
We got some dinner, drank a bunch of ciprihanas (the Brazilian equivalent of a mojito), cleaned up a bit, and then went out on the town for the rest of the evening/morning. I think they made their flight, but I’m not really sure.

Off to Rio for Carnaval!

Thursday, January 31 – Day 43

Off to Rio today! I’m pretty excited about the trip, and am looking forward to having some time to just hang out on the beach. BA was great, and even though I was there for almost a month, it didn’t seem like I really had much time to relax. I put a pretty good effort into the school, which included nightly homework, reading out loud for vocabulary and pronunciation, and watching the local news to develop an ear for the language. Throw in some tango lessons, some tourist stuff, and a few late nights for parties, and the time goes by real fast.

Anyway, trying to be a little pro-active, I e-mail the company that’s supposed to provide my ground transportation to and from GIG, the international airport in Rio. EVERYBODY says that this is a dangerous place, so I wanted to at least make sure that I could make it to my hotel without incident. And of course, I got a response back that said the transportation company had no record of me (even though I gave them an itinerary number and a voucher number that had their name on it). They further said that they even called my hotel, and that they had no record of me either. Great! Imagine flying into New Orleans for Mardi Gras without a place to stay, nobody to pick you up….and you don’t speak any English.

A few e-mails back home to the travel agent, and they say that it’s all cleared up. They confirmed the name of the transportation company, said that someone will be there to greet me outside of customs, and that they’d have a sign with my name on it. Whew!

So after I clear customs in Rio, I walk out of the security area and nobody is there to meet me. Great. I wait for a while, but nobody shows up. So I walk over to the domestic pick-up area, and I see some people from Havas, the company that is supposed to pick me up. They’re there for other customers, but one of the guys is happy to call the office on his cell phone to see what’s up. After a minute on the phone he says that they have no record of me, and there’s nothing more he can do. He says that my best option is to hire a private car (which is what I thought I had done). Further, he says that under no circumstances should I use a public taxi, as they are not safe.

For a private car, you go to a booth and pay a flat fee that is based on your destination. You pay up-front so that the driver never handles the money. I’m going to Zona Sul, which costs R$87.00 one way. On the way, traffic gets backed-up on the highway going through one of the favelas, or slums. Here, it’s kind of like crossing the Mexican border back into the US, where bunches of people are just out in the middle of the street trying to sell all kinds of stuff. One of the most prevalent items for sale are something called “Globos”. I ask the driver what they are, but he couldn’t understand me and I couldn’t understand him. So he rolled down the window and shouted to one of the vendors, gave him some change and bought a bag. He passed it back to me and mimed for me to open the bag.

Imagine a Cheeto, about the size of a small doughnut, but without the florescent orange “cheese” flavoring. They had a slightly salty taste, but other than that, tasted a lot like deep fried air. The small paper bag contains about a dozen Globos, and they come in a “sweet” variety as well.
Conditions are improving!

I still have a few Globos left as we get to the hotel, so I take the bag with me to check in. The young lady at the front desk tells me the she loves these things, and that they are popular beach snacks for kids. She prefers he salty Globos as well. Sure enough, every day at the beach I’d see vendors carrying around blocks of Globos the size of a bale of hay.

Well, the Intercontinental Hotel in Rio is certainly a step up from my apartment in Buenos Aires. I’ve got a nice king-sized bed, an industrial strength air conditioner, and an “all you can eat” breakfast is included. It’s a full-on Western style buffet with made to order omelets, bacon, eggs, pancakes, fruits, breads & pastries, cereals, cheeses, juices, coffee, and more. It’s a very expensive place to stay, especially during Carnaval, but, since this is the first time I’ve been here, its known as a dangerous city, and I am travelling alone, I don’t mind paying up for a little security.

I do mind paying R$19.00 for a 500 cc bottle of water. A phone call to US is R$14.00 per minute when dialed through the hotel, but it’s only US$2.00 from my cell phone, and US$0.04 per minute on my calling card. A bottle of Dom Perignon is R$980.00 (US$575.00). Good thing I bought that US$14.00 bottle of Absolute at the duty free shop in the airport. Ha!

If you click on the pictures, I think they blow up to a full screen. In the first one, if I've picked the right one, you may be able to make out a little white triangle against the mountain. Believe it or not, it's a hang-glider! They jump off the top of the mountian and land on the beach.

The Dirty War

Tuesday, Jan. 29 – Day 41

The Dirty War – Wow, you just can’t make this stuff up!

The first picture is not the Washington Monument, it’s El Oblisco. Kind of a landmark here in BA. It’s one of the city’s most prominent landmarks and a popular gathering place for political protests or after the national futbol team wins an important match. About 5 blocks away is the building in the second picture, the Casada Roja. I live right between the two. Casada Roja is kind of like the White House, except the president doesn’t actually live there. In 1951, Evita Peron gave her famous “Don’t cry for me Argentina” speech to a crowd of some 2 million people from just outside the Casa Rosada.

Evita was Juan Peron’s second wife, and a very a polarizing figure here in this country. The lower class idolized her because she championed their causes, while the upper class pretty much despised her because they believed she inappropriately diverted funds that should have been directed to more useful purposes. In any event, she died of cancer at the age of 33 in 1952.

The current President is Cristina Kirtchner, wife of former President Nestor Kirchner. This week in Miami, a Bolivian lady pled guilty in a case where she got caught with a suitcase stuffed with US$800,000 in cash. She said she was “holding it” for a Venezuelan man who intended to give it to Christina as “campaign contribution”. But that’s another story.

El Oblisco was built in 1936 to commemorate the 400 year anniversary of the founding of the city – well, sort of. The first record of the discovery of this area dates to 1536, but the city wasn’t actually established until 1580, but who’s really counting anyway? El Oblisko is 67 meters tall (a little less than half the size of the Washington Monument). It was built in 31 days, and the location is also reported to be the site of where the national flag of Argentina was flown for the first time. It sits in the middle of Avenida 9 de Julio, which, at 140 meters, is the widest city boulevard on Earth.

In the late 1970’s, around the beginning of the “Dirty War”, the government hung a big sign from the Oblisko that said “El silencio es salud”, or ”silence is health”. Recently, they covered in with a big pink condom to commemorate AIDS awareness day – but, I digress.

Isabel Peron is Juan Peron’s third wife. The two met while Juan was in exile in Panama – he was deposed in a coup in 1955, and kicked out of the country. She was a dancer in a nightclub, and 35 years younger that Juan. They moved to Spain, and got married primarily because the Catholic Church looked down upon their living arrangement – Juan still had political ambitions, so he needed to keep the church happy. Even this week, the Vatican refused to approve the appointment of an Argentine ambassador because he has been divorced.

In 1973, the then-current dictator of Argentina allowed the formation of political parties and an election, and a guy named Hector Campora became the President under the Peronist party. He then resigned, nominated Juan as his replacement, and called for his return, which the government allowed. Upon his arrival at Eziza Airport (all international flights to BA come through here), opposition party snipers opened fire on the crowd and killed a number of Juan’s well-wishers. This is now referred to as the Eziza Massacre, and marked the end of a political truce between the left and right in Argentina. In an odd move, Peron chose his wife Isabel as his new Vice President. On July 1, 1974, less than a year after his return, Juan died, and Isabel ended up running the country. This made her the first non-royal female to become a head-of-state in the Western Hemisphere.

Juan was a left-winged sort of guy, while the other popular politician of day, a guy named Jose Lopez Rega, was a right-winger. After Juan’s death, Rega was so popular that he was considered the de-facto Prime Minister of the country. His right-winged power frightened the military, and in early 1976, Isabel agreed to fire Rega. The military, however, feared that, in the prevailing climate, such a weak-willed and inexperienced woman would not be able to lead the country, and on March 24, 1976, she was overthrown in a bloodless coup. After 5 years of house arrest, she was exiled to Spain, where she maintained close ties with Franciso Franco and his family (remember Juan and Isabel lived there for a while after Panama, and before returning to Argentina).

Jorge Rafael Videla, the military leader, took over the new government, and led the country from 1976 to 1983. But in 1975, before she was forced out of power, Isabel had signed 3 separate decrees that allowed the military to begin to “annihilate extreme left-wing subversives” – who were mostly thought to be trade union workers and young student activists. The “subversives” had actually succeeded in a number of terrorist attacks, including several political assinations and the downing of a military transport plane. About 500 people were murdered during her term under this policy, which was actually carried out by Rega before he was fired, and was called Operative Independencia.

Under Videla, who ran the country through 1981, the program grew, and became known as Operation Condor. The counter-terrorism techniques that were used in Operation Condor, primarily torture and murder, were taught to the Argentines by the French secret service (and some say the CIA) over a two year period. The techniques were based on France’s experience in the Algerian War where, from 1954 to 1962, the local police forces were put under the authority of the Army and about 30,000 people disappeared. Hmmm?

In 1976, one Argentine General declared that “as many people as necessary must die in Argentina so that the country will be secure again”. Another proclaimed that “we will have to kill 50,000 people – 25,000 subversives, 20,000 sympathizers, and we will make 5,000 mistakes”. During this period, the standard government-issue vehicle that was used to pick up the “subversives” for questioning was a black Ford Falcon. I’ve been told that, even today, the sight of one of these cars still strikes fear in a lot of people.

These murder and torture policies were further carried on by Videla’s successors, Roberto Viola and Leopoldo Galtieri. Operation Condor is also believed to have been conducted in concert with other South American dictatorships, and insurgents from Chile, Paraguay, Uruguay, Bolivia, and Cuba were also tortured and killed here in Argentina, sometimes under the eye of our own CIA (documents de-classified in 2002) and these killings were supposedly known to, and/or tolerated by our State Department (Henry Kissinger, under Gerald Ford’s Presidency).

Today, it’s commonly accepted that about 400,000 Argentine people were incarcerated during the Dirty War, that about 50,000 people were murdered, and that about 30,000 people are still unaccounted for. Included in the missing is an estimate of some 5,000 infant children that were taken from mothers that were imprisoned during the war. There was a saying that “subversive mothers will raise subversive children”. It turns out that a very small number of these children were actually adopted by families of the military, but by and large, the whereabouts of the 5,000 children have never been fully accounted for.

The 30,000 missing are known as “Los Disaparecidos”. Many of the Disaparecidos are believed to have been thrown out of airplanes over the Plat River delta, or over the Atlantic Ocean. The military called these “vuelos de muerte”, or “death flights”. Every Thursday at 3:30, there is a demonstration outside the Casa Rosada by the mothers of the Disaparecidos. This has been going on for years, yet the government still refuses to investigate or provide any information on los Disaparecidos.

After the Jimmy Carter was elected President of the US, he blocked the CIA’s involvement in “special warfare”. Therefore, the Argentine special-forces units were engaged to teach and train the counter-insurgency forces in Nicaragua, El Salvador, and Honduras in exchange for the US support of counter-revolutionary policies in this country.

Under Regan, the US re-established its CIA ties with the Argentine intelligence units and began to help train and arm the Nicaraguan Contras – remember Oliver North?

In January, 2007, an Argentine judge ordered Isabel Peron’s arrest on the grounds that her signing of the 3 separate decrees while President some 30 years ago allowed the armed forces to take actions against “subversives”, and that those actions ultimately led to the beginning of the Dirty War. She was arrested in Spain, and remains under house arrest, awaiting extradition.

Wow!

Most of you reading this were alive when this all began. I in 1976, I was in high-school, learning how to drive a car, and didn’t have a care in the world.

Traffic

Tuesday, January 22 – Day 34

The traffic is pretty interesting here. There are several ways to get around the city, and most people walk, take the colectivo (bus), or the Subte (short for subteranio). Of course, there’s a lot of auto traffic, and a lot of motos (motorcycles – scooters, really, as they are rarely larger than 250 cc’s).
Traffic lights go from red, to red and yellow, and then to green. This allows the drivers on the front line to do a brake-press and start revving the engine up before the green. Kind of like the start of a Formula 1 race. Both the traffic light and the sound of the revving engines are signs for the pedestrians to get out of the way. Oh yeah, they have the pedestrian signals with the little green man that lights up, and in the rest of the civilized world, this indicates that it’s your turn to cross the street. Here in BA, this light is simply a suggestion that there will probably be fewer cars driving through the cross walk while it’s lit.

Believe it or not, many intersections simply have no signage whatsoever – no light or stop-sign. One of my Spanish teachers said that the leading cause of death in BA is an accident involving a motorized vehicle. We all laughed a bit, but she was serious. She said that more people die from being hit by a car or bus, than die from cancer or heart disease. A lot of motorcyclists die also. They have a helmet law here, but it’s loosely interpreted to mean that you just have to have a helmet with you. I’ve seen a lot of them strapped to elbows and knees. It’s always fun to watch the light turn at a major intersection because all the motos split the lanes and come right to the front of the starting grid. When it goes to yellow, all the little engines start to rev, and on the green, they all take off like a swarm of bees. They use their horns a lot just to make noise because the auto drivers never use their mirrors or look for them. They just change lanes whenever they want. The motorcyclist never wins that one.

I’ve seen one Porsche and one Mercedes while I’ve been here. Maybe it’s because all the wealthy people are on vacation for the month, or maybe it’s because they have a 58% import tax on vehicles. A US$90,000 Porsche, therefore, costs about US$142,000 by the time it gets to your driveway. That’s a little over $450,000 pesos. In the news this week, a local newspaper discovered that foreign diplomats, who are allowed to import cars without paying the import tax, brought in about 100 Porsches, Hummers, and other vehicles, that are being driven about by other businessmen, sports figures, and celebrities. One businessman was found to driving around in a new Lamborghini that was imported by a Bolivian diplomat at a registered value of $60,000 pesos (about US$16,000).

The Subte is really interesting. Costs about US$0.30 US per ride. It runs from 5:00 am to 11:00 pm, and from what I can see, is very efficient. The Argentines have never been known to be on the leading edge of a capital maintenance programs, so the stations do look a little scary, but I’ve never had to wait more than a couple of minutes for a train, and there’s almost always room to get on the train. The A Line has cars that must have been built in the 1920’s. They are clearly worn, but are really quite striking. They have beautiful dark original woodwork, including lattice seats, and also appear to have all their original hardware including exposed incandescent light bulbs with glass shades. For some reason, they seem to appreciate the cars - none of the wood is carved up by vandals and none of the glass is broken. That's pretty cool.

The picture here doesn't have anything to do with traffic. I just thought it was a good example of an under-improved property.

Tango Lessons

Thursday, January 17 – Day 29

My tango lessons include group sessions from 8:00 to 10:00 pm on Mondays and Thursdays, and a one private lesson scheduled at another time during the week. The classes are held on the 4th floor of a beautiful 150 year old neo-classical building with 20 foot ceilings.

The essence of the dance, as I understand it, is that the man leads and that the woman must always follow the man’s direction. There are no set steps or sequences, so the man is constantly leading, and the woman must be able to interpret and respond to the man’s lead for every step. This is what makes it such a challenging dance. Though dance partners embrace, but very little direction is actually conveyed through the arms or the hands. The posture of both partners is to have the chest out in front of the toes, and all of the direction is conveyed through the chest.

Manuel and the two other instructors are very passionate about their art. Manuel says “Everyone hears the music, but it is the man that interprets it. The woman can hear the music, but she cannot interpret it for herself. This is only for the man to do, and he conveys his interpretation through the chest. The man controls the woman, and she must always do what the man says. The people that watch the dance also recognize that movements the man allows the woman to do are, again, part of his interpretation. This is what he is showing to the audience.” Pretty serious stuff, huh? I just thought it would be a good way to meet girls.

The Anna and Hillary, two of the girls from my class are also taking the tango lessons, and we seem to be getting along well. Anna designs her own line of jewelry, lived in Paris for a while, and now lives in NYC. Hillary was a marketing rep for a large UK consumer products company, had never been to Argentina, but quit her job and moved here. Raul, is a young porteno (a local from BA), and is taking lessons because one of his friends is getting married soon, and he’ll have to dance the tango at the wedding. He tells me that in BA, Thursdays are for going out and cheating on your partner, Fridays are for dates with your partner, and Saturdays are for partying with your buddies. Kind of fun, huh?

La Boca

Tuesday, January 15 – Day 27

I joined a school excursion to an area called La Boca after class today. This is an old, poverty stricken barrio centered next to a shipyard, and was originally settled by immigrant dock workers. The legend is that the people were so poor, they relied on leftover scraps of wood, metal, and paint from their work to build their homes. It has now turned into somewhat of an eclectic artist community. La Boca is also home to BA’s premier futbol team, the Boca Juniors. I went on the school trip because everyone says that it’s ok to go during the day if you are with someone that knows the area, but do not go there at night under any circumstances. Hmm. After walking around a bit, I’d say that I certainly agree with that. Our instructor told us that after a tour last week, one of her students wanted to walk over to see the futbol stadium on his own (about 4 blocks) and got mugged.

In other news, a worker strike shut down construction on the casino project in Puerto Madero. They say that happens occasionally, without warning.

Picking up the Brazilian Tourist Visa

Monday, January 14 – Day 26

The Brazilian tourist visa should be done today, so I looked at the web site for the Brazilian consulate in Buenos Aires. It says that you can only pick up a tourist visa between 4:00 and 5:00 pm. I got there just after 4:00, and the security guard (same guy as before) said that they were closed. “Visa pickups are only between 12:00 and 1:00”, he told me. I mention the web-site, which he said he knew was incorrect. Nevertheless, he had no interest in helping me, even though there were still other people in the pick-up line. Looks like I’ll be coming back tomorrow – just like the Indian guy that was in front of me on the day that I submitted my application. Luckily, there were less than 8 people on the elevator as I left.

The Recoleta Cemetery

Sat., January, 12 – Day 24

A big tourist attraction here is the Recoleta Cemetery. It’s full of above ground mausoleums, like they have in New Orleans, and the city’s elite have been buried here since 1822. Seems to me that it’s full of military types. Evita is here, though her body was moved to France for a number of years during a period of political instability. There’s a directory of all the famous dead people at the entry, but she’s not on it. It’s pretty easy to find, however, it’s always surrounded by people and flowers. Looks like it draws a bigger crowd than Jim Morrison’s grave in Paris, but they’re not nearly as fun to talk to. Some of the mausoleums are really beautiful while some, as you can see from the picture, require a little maintenance.

Outside the cemetery, I met a couple of girls that were dressed really nice and spoke very good English. They turned out to be philanthropic gypsies looking for donations to help their cause, which they said was a children’s hospital. I gave them $10 pesos for a CD of instrumental music, and then they wanted me to recite a prayer with them. I’d told them I’d only do it if it were in Spanish, which was kind of cool. They were surprised that I could remember and correctly recite entire lines correctly. I’m not sure exactly what I said, but they told me that I am now guaranteed entry into Heaven, so I feel pretty good about that. They asked me if I would like to come to their home and meet some of the other people in their “organization”, but I declined. The CD is actually pretty good.

I continued on my way, and about 100 yards around the corner, I run smack into the “hippie fair”. Yep, that’s what they call it, and now it all begins to make sense. A few hundred of the city’s bohemian artisans have covered a nice park area with booths full of ugly jewelry, tie-died shirts, and other miscellaneous crap. It does draw an interesting crowd, though.

Happy Hour in BA

I watched the local news today, and a baggage handlers strike Aerolineas Argentinas, the national airline, shut down every one of the company’s flights across the country. At Eziza (EZE), the international airport here in BA, the airline said it had no idea when it might resume flights, or how it would be able to help anyone that was (or is) holding a ticket. As everyone was essentially on their own, chaos erupted, which then affected all the other carriers. Eziza quickly sized-up completely, and the entire airport was shut down for the day. They say this happens from time to time, usually without warning. (Ultimately, it took 2 ½ days to get things running again).

We have a school happy hour on Fridays, and it starts at 10:00 pm. Like I said, everything starts late here, and at a lot of bars, drinks are usually 2 for 1 until midnight. This week, we’re meeting at a place in barrio Palermo Soho, and I got there around 10:30. I didn’t see anyone from my school, but I found another group of students who were taking classes that earn them a certificate to teach English in other non-English speaking countries. There are about a dozen of us, and we moved to another bar at about 1:30 am.

Plaza Sorento is a town-square that is surrounded by restaurants and bars. At about 2:00 am, the restaurants begin to take up all the tables and chairs, and the whole plaza becomes one big dance scene. I met a couple of local girls who seemed to like the fact that I was from the US. They taught me how to dance the Cumbia, and introduced me to a local drink called fernete. It’s an herb based booze that it somewhat like Jaggermeister, but tastes worse – if you can believe that. One is quite enough for me, thank you.

At 4:00 am, I was ready to head home, and walked out to catch a cab. There had to be a thousand people out there in the plaza, just carrying on and having a great time. Crazy.

Brazilian Tourist Visa

Thursday, Jan 10 – Day 22

So, it’s time to get that tourist visa for Brazil. Everyone I’ve talked to says it’s a bitch, and it can take up to 3 weeks. Americans weren’t required to have a visa to enter Brazil until after the Sept. 11 attacks. After that, the US imposed a visa requirement on the Brazilians, so the Brazilians now require us to have a visa to enter their country. They call this recipricocity.

Before I Ieft California, I called the Brazilian Consulate in LA. They said that I needed to come to their office in person, bring my passport, a separate 2x2 color passport photo, and my airplane tickets to show evidence of my transportation into and out of their country. Then, they told me, I’d have to come back to their office in 10 days to pick the visa up in person. They don’t mail them.

Well, at this point, I wasn’t even sure how long I wanted to stay in Brazil, let alone what dates. I just knew that I wanted to go to Rio for Carnaval, and play it by ear after that. And I certainly couldn’t wait for 10 business days to for them to process the visa. I knew I’d be in Buenos Aires for about a month, and they said that I could apply for the visa at the Brazilian consulate there. Cool.

While in Houston, I settled up on some of my plans. I bought a one-way plane ticket to Rio and paid for a week at the Intercontinental Hotel in Rio, including a few days before and after Carnival. Knowing that I’d need to show how I was leaving Brazil, my travel agent made a reservation for a flight from Rio back to Houston, printed the itinerary, then he cancelled the reservation. I sure hope this works!

The other day, I looked at the BA consulate’s web page to get the address and review the process. They only take applications from 10:00 am until 1:00 pm, Monday through Friday, and the process can take up to 15 business days. However, in addition to all the other stuff that I knew about from talking to the consulate in LA, this location requires a copy of my credit card, AND a copy of my bank statements for the last three months! Are you kidding me?

I talked to a couple of other guys at my school, and they said “yes, you need the bank statements”. They also said that they especially like to screw with the Americans, and that several of their friends (not just US citizens) had to go back 3 or 4 times. Each time they thought they were finished, the consulate would ask for more stuff. They said that nobody gets through on the first try. Great.

I have my laptop, so I downloaded my bank statements, but I don’t have access to a printer. So, I e-mailed them to an address that I can access from a locutorio (one of the local internet and telephone access shops). I go there to print them, but the only way to do this is to first download them onto the hard-drive of the computer at the shop. I guess I can erase the files after I print them, but I can’t say that I’m real comfortable having the electronic remnants of my banks statements floating around on the C:\ drive of a 10 year old computer that’s available to any one of the city’s 14 million inhabitants. So I go and buy a little thumb-drive and download the statements from my computer to that. I take the thumb-rive to the locutorio and print the statements off the thumb-drive for 12 pesos. It’s probably not any safer, but I feel a little better.

So I’m ready for the Brazilian consulate. I leave class early, at about 12:00, and get the consulate at 12:30. Up to the 5th floor and through the metal detector, but the security guard won’t let me through without turning off my cell phone. I tell him that I don’t have one on me, but since he doesn’t believe me, he searches my bag. Not a good start. I fill out the visa form on a computer kiosk, and then wait in line. All around me are small groups of people from a bunch of different countries quietly whispering about the problems they are having. Sure enough, most have been here 3 or 4 times. As I begin talking to these people, I realize that they are all morons. Most are twenty-something knuckleheads that just don’t believe that rules apply to them. One guy doesn’t have a passport – hello! Another doesn’t have a photo. Few of these people probably even have a bank account, let alone a bank statement. I appear to be the only one that actually showed up with all the stuff the consulate was asking for.

The guy in front of me is from India, and has been there before. They call his name, and he goes over to another line. When I finally get my turn at bat, the lady looks at my bank statement first, and asks me to point out the address, the statement date, and the balance. BofA provides a statement that shows the combined balance of all your accounts, so that’s the number I point to. She looks up at me and says “is that in American dollars?” I give a quick nod; she stamps my application and says “your visa will be ready on Monday”. She keeps my passport and the other stuff, but I’m not quite finished yet. She gives me a piece of paper and says that I have to take this to a bank that’s three blocks away, and pay the $431.25 peso fee. And, I have to do it today. That’s OK, I knew about this. As I walked away, the people around me were in awe. I actually thought that some were going to start clapping for me.

It’s 2:00, and as I leave, the guy that was originally in front of me is pleading with the security guard, who won’t let him back in the room. They called him out of line because they rejected his photo. He went and had another one made, but it’s now past 1:00 - the office is closed. He’ll have to come back tomorrow. At the elevator, I’m cracking up at this whole experience. When the door opens, a guy inside actually puts his hands up to stop me from getting on. The seven other people in the elevator all point to a sign that says “Limit 8 Passengers”. Are you kidding me? This happens 3 more times before I can get on, and once I do get on, we refuse others twice on the way down. Weird.

At Itau, the Brazilian bank, I’m feeling pretty good. There’s a separate window for people doing business with the consulate. I give the guy my receipt and $150.00 US (a little more than the peso equivalent of the fee). He looks at me and says that the fee can only be paid in pesos. OK, I say, how about we convert the dollars to pesos – this is a bank, right? He smiles and says that to convert currency at the bank, he needs to see my passport, which he knows is at the consulate. I have cash dollars and want to convert them to cash Pesos, but need a passport to do this? Nice.

He refers me to a Cambio Touristo across the street, which is apparently a little more lenient on the passport requirement when exchanging cash for cash. I’ll bet the exchange rate is pretty good too. When I walk in, there are 5 windows, but only one of them is attended. The line is short, but I notice there are a bunch of people just sitting around. I’m sure that I look confused. Turns out, you need to pull a number, like being at the meat counter of the supermarket or a deli. I’m number 89. Now serving - number 56.

Argentine Recycling

I’m still exploring my neighborhood, and everyone I talk to says that just because you see homeless people sleeping in doorways and people digging through the trash, that doesn’t mean it’s not safe. Actually, the “digging through the trash” part seems to be the way that they do their recycling here.

At the end of the day, it looks like everyone’s trash is nicely bagged, and piled up on the sidewalk. Around dusk, people are ripping the bags open and digging through it, picking out anything of value. I see some people that appear to specialize in cardboard while others are going for the plastics. Yesterday, I saw two guys stripping computer parts from about a dozen old machines right out in the street. Remarkably, all of it generally seems to be gone by morning.

The first picture is similar to one I posted earlier. It’s a huge sculpture of a flower in a beautiful park, and is just amazing to see in person. For scale, look at the size of the people in the lower right side. Literally, I just turned around and took the second picture. Instead of properly disposing of these used ink-jet cartridges, someone just dumped them on the side of this major street. I can only guess that by dumping this stuff in such a public place, whoever did this expects that the city will pick it up the trash and dispose of it properly.

Crazy, isn't it?

These People Don't Eat Breakfast

Wednesday, Jan 9 – Day 21

Since I’ve not been to a market, I was looking for breakfast on my way to class but couldn’t find anything familiar. I had pledged not to eat or shop at any American retail operations, but as a last resort, I try McDonalds figuring I can at least get an Egg McMuffin to carry me through until lunch. Guess what? All they serve are tiny pastries! Their breakfast package includes two small pastries, an espresso or cappuccino, a small cookie, and a shot of mineral water to cleanse the palate. I count six pieces of glassware on my tray – one small plate for each of the pastries, a cup and saucer, and a little dish for the cookie, and a small glass for the mineral water. I also get a small steel spoon to stir the café. It’s a nice touch, but seems a little formal to me. Especially for McDonald’s. And, somebody has to wash all this stuff. They do make a great café though.

You may have heard that McDonalds is thinking of offering a better coffee product, including a cappuccino, in some of their stores in the US. Here in Buenos Aires, the stores are more dependent on upon foot traffic than drive-throughs, and the stores tend to me narrow and deep. The front part is dedicated to the coffee and pastries (and sometimes ice cream), and the back half is where they do the traditional food. Their café products are as good any coffee shop I’ve been to, and a cappuccino costs about a third as much as in the US. They don’t have a Starbucks in Argentina yet, but they plan on opening their first store in Buenos Aires this year. Strangely (or maybe not), nobody here drinks a “half-fat decaf carmel macchiato”, and they don’t do café “to go”.

First days of school were fun; classes run 9:00 am to 1:00 pm with a half-hour break in the middle. My group of “high-beginners” has 3 other students – all pretty good looking girls. Nice start. One girl is from London, one is from Poland (though now living in New York), and the other from New Mexico. Looks like I’m just a little bit more proficient in the language than the others, so I hope that makes the class easier. Ha!