Crumbling Infrastructures: Buenos Aires, Caracas

article from February 25, 2012

By Jamie Douglas

Buenos Aires, Argentina

Ash Wednesday in Buenos Aires turned out to be a very tragic day. A fully loaded commuter train with over 2,000 porteños on board suffered a suspected mechanical failure in its brake system, slamming into the end-of-the-line barrier at the Once station in the capital city, with devastating results. Fifty dead and 650 injured – ¡que horror! – a very inappropriate end to the Carnival festivities, although not altogether unexpected.

The infrastructure of the city of Buenos Aires has been crumbling since the 1980s, but the bottom really fell out during the last financial crisis when Argentina defaulted on its sovereign debt. Looking at the photos and videos of this catastrophe, I was astonished to discover that the rolling stock looked to be from about 1950s or 60s and in very bad shape, even just look at. Buenos Aires has become somewhat of a dangerous eyesore, where you are not safe in the best of neighborhoods anymore.

Those of us who always admired the city as “the Paris of South America” now look at it as a crumbling city, a city where you can still look up at the beautiful facades of those magnificent edifices built in the 1920s; but while looking up and admiring that, be careful, because the sidewalks are hazards to your health. There are not just cracks, but holes and missing manhole covers – and you really have to be very careful where your next step will take you, as there are so many dogs that use the sidewalks as their toilet.

Then there are all the homeless sleeping and living in the entryways to abandoned businesses. And whatever you do, exercise extreme caution when using an ATM. It’s not that robbers in Buenos Aires are very sophisticated; in fact, they are quite clumsy, spilling a drink on you or dropping mud from a balcony to cause a major distraction, or dropping something in front of you, trying to take advantage of the Good Samaritan in you so they can grab your wallet, purse or bags. The current economic downturn has led to a lack of public safety, with the federal police abandoning their patrol duties on the subway and trains, leaving that to the local police, who are either part of the criminal gangs or not present at all.

So for those of you contemplating moving to Buenos Aires, be aware. Crime is surging, inflation is over 25%, and public confidence has reached new lows. It was only a couple of weeks ago that a well-known French photographer was stabbed to death at 8:30 in the morning, in a very populated and “safe” section of town, the park dedicated to the Falklands War Veterans in Retiro. ...it makes the photographer in me want to leave that part of my life behind. Whenever I stepped out while in Buenos Aires with my Nikon camera, the people at the front desk of my hotel would warn me, shopkeepers would warn me and waiters in restaurants would have me hide my equipment. Fortunately, we were always very aware of our surroundings. And when the guy came by with a huge key ring and dropped it at my feet, it was me who kept a local from running after him. It was such an obvious attempt to separate us from our luggage in front of the hotel that it was almost laughable. Jajaja!

Caracas, Venezuela

In Caracas (how similar that sounds to carcass!), Venezuela’s Clown Prince is now following his destiny, which looks to be an appointment with Mr. D. After denying rumors about having The Big “C,” he just announced that a new lesion of about 2 centimeters had been discovered in an undisclosed location “near his pelvis,” where surgeons in Cuba last June had removed a baseball-sized malignant tumor, and after a few rounds of chemotherapy he had declared himself to be cancer free. Hallelujah!

Except that he is not. For the first time since his medical misadventures began, he openly stated that it was probably a malignant growth. Various experts in the field of his unknown cancer have previously stated that he in all likelihood suffers from Steve Jobism, which is denial of his terminal condition and the putting off of the immediate treatment of his disease. After all, a bull can only be a bull if he has his cajones; and now that a young, virile opposition leader has emerged, Henrique Capriles, the 39-year-old governor of Miranda State, the chances of Venezuela’s return to the civilized world are getting better with every moment that Chávez waits to have radical surgery. I do wish him well in his battle for life, but more importantly, I wish Venezuela only the best in its recovery from the years of darkness. Let there be light!

Jamie Douglas

San Rafael, Mendoza

I encourage you to write me at cruzansailor [at] gmail [dot] com with any questions or suggestions you may have. Disclaimer: I am not in any travel-related business. My advice is based on my own experiences and is free of charge (Donations welcome). It is always my pleasure to act as a beneficial counselor to those who are seekers of the next adventure.

Cementerio de la Recoleta

excerpt from the upcoming book, Impressions of Argentina: Pictures at an Exhibition

by Julie R Butler

Cementerio de la Recoleta is truly amazing, a necropolis of permanent resting places for thousands, a hushed, other-worldly memorial ground through which those of us who still can may slowly wander, ponder, and reflect on the impact that a person has had on the world, both while living and after they are no longer. It takes hours to comprehend the scope of the place. The size, grandeur, and pure mass of the sarcophagi, statues, and mausoleum walls dwarf us mere passers through.

Each structure begs to be carefully observed – the masterful artistry of every detail, every sculpture, every architectural enhancement, every meaningful symbol, each a moving tribute to an individual’s personality or deeds, all beautiful expressions of love and respect, edifices of continuity that keep their subjects alive in living memory.

Many of the sarcophagi have windows through which the coffins, religious icons, flowers, and heartwarming decorative touches can be seen. Some are well cared for, while others have begun to crumble or become invaded by plants. Their shapes and styles vary in more ways than seems possible. In color, texture, and mood, although all in stone and mostly marble, each varies from all the others through endless arrays of design elements, from the traditional to art deco to uniquely innovative. Many have angels, either kind-faced or fierce, looking down from on high. Some structures are for individuals, while others are for entire families. Plaques have been added by family members in later years to prove their love and respect to the world.

The cemetery is huge, maze-like, and jam-packed, a small city of crowded apartments and memorials for the dead, with no green space, just row after row of impressive buildings and sculptures. Important people’s monuments, for all of eternity, stand shoulder to shoulder with those of nobodies, fancy flourishes are interspersed with graceful simplicity, religious themes coexist with cults of personality, and self-aggrandizements juxtapose devotions to humility. And like any city, it is a collection of discriminate individuals, a unified diversity, a whole of many parts.

A funeral takes place, with dark-clad mourners gathering together in the narrow walkway to witness the casket being laid to rest inside the family sarcophagus. Elsewhere, small groups of people wander quietly about, couples, friends, taking photos and studying the guide. It says that there are 4,800 vaults. Each one is so distinctive, it is nearly impossible not stop and look at each and every fascinating one of them. A guided tour groups around to hear historical information about the more important monuments. Here and there, artists carefully study statues in order to best capture the expressions of their faces on their pads of paper. Everywhere, a sense of awe hangs heavy as the late afternoon sun lowers itself down from its zenith, casting shadows in some corners while lighting up stained glass windows and warming the stone on the far side of the cemetery where cats gather to collect those last solar rays before chilly darkness sets in and they are once again the only creatures left to wander the silent avenues wherein rest the remains and remembrances of lives once lived.

All photos by Jamie Douglas:

Julie R Butler is a writer, journalist, editor, and author of several books, including Nine Months in Uruguay and No Stranger To Strange Lands (click here for more info). She is a contributor to Speakout at Truthout.org, and her current blog is Connectively Speaking.

email: julierbutler [at] yahoo [dot] com, Twitter: @JulieRButler

Rock and Roll Will Never Die: Roger Waters Coming to Buenos Aires

article from August 30, 2011

By Jamie Douglas

...and It is Still Going Strong in Its 60s!

You would never guess that Argentina, in particular Buenos Aires, is suffering. Not by the amount of people who are shelling out an average of 1,000 pesos for tickets to see Rogers Waters on his latest world tour of the Southern Hemisphere, from January 27, 2012, in Perth, Australia, to Rio de Janeiro, with intermediate stops in Brisbane, Melbourne, Sydney, Auckland, Santiago de Chile, Buenos Aires, Porto Alegre, Brazil and finally ending up in Rio on March 25, 2012. That’s quite a grind for an artist of any age – but Roger will be 68!

His visit to Buenos Aires will be historic, indeed. A sixth date was just added at the River Plate Stadium, a facility with a capacity of 76,687. Assuming that there will be concert seating for 70,000, that will make a total of 420,000 Floydsters celebrating The Wall Live over 32 years after it was first performed in London.

This will set new records for musical performances in Argentina, beating the Rolling Stones’ previous record of five not-quite-sold-out performances. From early responses, all six of these coming shows will be completely sold out, with tickets ranging from 160 pesos to 2,100 pesos, about US$40-$500, with the average ticket price being somewhere around 1,000 pesos, or $250. That comes to a staggering US$100,000,000!

So far, there are 27 scheduled performances on the southern loop, all with matching ticket prices. The total gate receipts will probably be in the neighborhood of $400,000,000. This, combined with the ticket sales from the rest of the world, will make The Wall Live the highest grossing musical world tour in history, taking in almost $1.6 billion, easily beating the Rolling Stones’ Bigger Bang ticket sales of $550 million.

I had the incredible experience of a lifetime working for the second lineup of Pink Floyd (minus Syd Barrett - RIP) as a photographer first and then as a technician during the early-to-mid 1970s, and I have to admit that I am still a total Floyd-head. I never saw a bad performance, whether it was from backstage or from my favorite rows 15-20. The music was always amazing, as were the stage effects that went with the shows. Sometimes I was so dead tired after setting up that I would crash in a hammock under the stage during the performance, enjoying the music in my subconsciousness.

During the early 90s, my then-wife-to-be and I worked in staging for several of the great rock n’ roll shows, with legends such as Paul McCartney, Madonna and David Gilmour-inspired Pink Floyd. After completing our work on the major gigs, we would usually escape the high-pressure atmospheres of the stagecraft workshops, sound stages and rehearsal halls to go to our little artist’s haven in the mountains of Michoacán, Mexico, to chill out for a few months. In 1994, Pink Floyd came to perform in Mexico at the Hermanos Rodriguez Autodromo on The Division Bell tour. We decided to go, even if tickets were an astonishing US$500. However, we had been in touch with the “whole hog” operator (the guy who runs all the show’s computers, ergo the showmeister) by phone a couple of times, and we met at the Intercontinental Hotel over drinks and a meal. In exchange for a little translating during setup and breakdown, we scored the whole backstage VIP package, including VIP seating in row 14, dead center. I think it was the best show I had ever attended. We were even picked up by a limousine and driven straight backstage, where I got to use David’s personal toilet, and then we were off to Nirvana.

So if you are a fan, which I suspect you may be, since you are still reading this, I highly recommend that you secure your tickets for what may be the last time you will see Roger Waters and his band perform in Buenos Aires. As Mick Jagger so clearly put it while he was in his twenties or thirties, “I’d rather be dead than singing ‘Satisfaction’ when I`m forty-five.” Mick Jagger is 68 as well, and the Rolling Stones’ last tour grossed over a half a billion dollars. Not bad for an old rock n’ roller, and he may yet do it again. 

Jamie Douglas

San Rafael, Mendoza

Where that Fine Malbec Wine gets even better with a little Pink Floyd!

[Image of Roger Waters via Wikipedia]

I encourage you to write me at cruzansailor [at] gmail [dot] com with any questions or suggestions you may have. Disclaimer: I am not in any travel-related business. My advice is based on my own experiences and is free of charge (Donations welcome). It is always my pleasure to act as a beneficial counselor to those who are seekers of the next adventure.

Barrios (Neighborhoods) of Buenos Aires

article from January 19, 2011

by Julie R Butler

Buenos Aires is big and noisy and not the place for people who are not fond of big, noisy cities (that would be us). But then there are those who love all of the culture, the history, the accessibility, the vibrancy of the world’s biggest cities, and Buenis Aires has it all and more.

In describing the various barrios, or neighborhoods, suffice it to say that restaurants abound everywhere in this city, each barrio featuring its own characteristic selection. Argentines eat two main meals every day, the midday meal being the main event, but the late dinner may also be sizeable, as well. These are important family and social events that are expected to be long, drawn out, lingering affairs, with the service matching the relaxed pace and waiters seeming to be specially trained in the art of eye-contact avoidance – strangely, especially when it comes time to pay up!

Here are the most famous barrios:

Microcentro: The heart and soul of a nation, this is home to the government buildings, the grandest architecture, the historic cafés, restaurants, and clubs that are over a hundred years old, and the symbolic Obelisco that is framed by one of the world’s widest boulevards.

Tribunales: This theater district is home to the magnificent Palacio de Justicia and the equally magnificent opera house, Teatro Colón, among other prominent cultural treasures.

San Thelmo: Brimming with antiques and wrought iron, cobblestones and colonial architecture, its charm has established it as a center for expats and travelers of all persuasions.

La Boca: This is a working-class neighborhood that has its dangers, yet its bright colors and big character draw anyone who wants to experience this authentic part of Argentine culture.

Palermo: A trendy, upscale residential area that offers everything great about big-city living – parks, museums, restaurants, bars, and boutiques

Recoleta: Even more upscale, Recoleta is most famous for its incredible cemetery for the rich and famous.

Belgrano: Known as a more peaceful, park-filled, pleasant residential barrio.

Almargo: This middle-class neighborhood, off the tourist track, is a good place to go for a more typical Argentine atmosphere.

Boedo: The historic porteño lifestyle is alive and well in this major tango and cultural center.

Congreso: This area surrounding the Palacio del Congreso is a densely populated section characterized by busy streets running between a sea of high-rises, all commerce, all the time.

Puerto Madero: The old port has been re-vamped, the redbrick warehouses turned into art studios, shops, and restaurants that charge for the view across to the new modern architecture that is springing up like daisies. A stroll along the waterfront or through the nearby wildlife preserve offers pleasant respite from the hectic pace of the streets of BsAs.

Retiro: This neighborhood, where both the classic main train station and the main bus station are located, is synonymous with ritz, unless you accidentally wander into the shantytown behind the train station.

For more on Buenos Aires, see (all sites current as of December 2013):

Wikipedia article on Buenos Aires

Official Tourism Website of Buenos Aires (in Spanish)

Landing Pad BA

[All photos by Jamie Douglas, Julie R Butler]

Julie R Butler is a writer, journalist, editor, and author of several books, including Nine Months in Uruguay and No Stranger To Strange Lands (click here for more info). She is a contributor to Speakout at Truthout.org, and her current blog is Connectively Speaking.

email: julierbutler [at] yahoo [dot] com, Twitter: @JulieRButler

Expatriating, The Nomadic Way: So, Now What?

article from December 21, 2010
By Jamie Douglas

In the previous installment, I described my wife and my departure from the USA and arrival in Buenos Aires, Argentina. This is what happened next.

After the first couple of days of living diagonally across the street from the Federal Police Headquarters, watching the armored personnel carriers and water canon trucks come and go, with fire trucks literally shooting out of a garage in the middle of the block, we decided not to continue our nightly disturbances, opting instead to move right into the center of town, two doors down from the intersection of  Avenida de Mayo and Avenida 9 de Julio, to the charming and surprisingly affordable, Hotel Reina.

Everything was within walking distance from our location right on the main avenue that leads from the Casa Rosada to the Palacio del Congreso, assuring almost daily protest marches from a large cross section of the population. Nothing ever turned violent, but the armored personnel carriers and water cannons were there, just to make sure. The obelisk was  a couple of blocks away, and we often strolled the pedestrian-only mall on Florida, where there were Tango performances at night, street vendors galore, mostly selling handicrafts from Peru and Ecuador, stores and ice cream shops, and a sufficient tourist police presence that made us feel fairly secure.

But after so much Tango, a fiery Flamenco festival, many great cafés and restaurants, and walking dozens of miles all over the city for over a week, we remembered why we came to Argentina – and it was not to be in one of the world’s largest metropolises. We had read on the Internet about this cute little hippie town in the Andes called El Bolsón.

To get there, we first had to endure a 20-hour bus ride from Buenos Aires to San Carlos de Bariloche, which was brutal. Our attendant was a complete douchebag – about as inattentive as you can get – and we, as unknowing yanquis, had thought that “first class” would mean that there would be plenty of food and water on board, so we failed to stock up. Very Important Note: When taking long distance public transport – anywhere in the world – do yourself a favor and bring your own water and snacks. Our attendant would   disappear for hours, not caring about the well-being of his guests. Finally, at around 11 pm, after seven hours on the road, he delivered the worst form of packaged meal you could imagine. I will spare you the details.

We finally arrived in Bariloche the next afternoon, got a room in a hostería, grabbed a decent meal, and crashed in a quiet room overlooking Lake Nahuel Huapi. We spent a few days there, but it was so touristy that we were more than ready to head on to El Bolsón, which is a few hours to the south, right on the 42nd parallel south.

After booking one night in a budget hotel that lacked the usual facilities but had a fabulous restaurant across the street, we decided to celebrate Cinco de Mayo, even though it was only cuatro de Mayo, in Patagonian style, with an early dinner of great food, a bottle of Malbec, and for dessert, we couldn't resist a splurge on the spectacularly artful tiramisú and chocolate mousse.

Then we went to the tourist office to inquire about renting an apartment, or a cabaña, for a month or so. The helpful fellow behind the desk recommended a place called Los Girasoles that came complete with Internet and cheery restaurant, but when we got there, most unfortunately, we found that they were booked up. Dejectedly, we began to walk back to the tourist office, and within less than a block, we saw a lovely hand carved wooden sign announcing the Don Celestino Cabañas – a turn of fate. We knocked on the door, met the proprietress, Marina Losada, and her companion Miguel, who speaks some English, and were shown a wonderful, new, yet rustic, two-story apartment by these friendly people. We immediately booked for four weeks.

When we returned to our east-facing room back at the other end of town that evening, we were treated to one of the most astounding sights, as the full moon rose above Cerro Piltriquitrón. It was a truly magical day.

I will have to leave it there until the next installment, when our skin, or at least our cameras, are saved by a broken ladder.

Until then, continue to live your dreams.

Jamie Douglas

Patagonia

Don Celestino Cabañas, Avenida San Martín 3430

Tel 02944 498521 or Cell 02944 15 591069

[All photos by Jamie Douglas]

I encourage you to write me at cruzansailor [at] gmail [dot] com with any questions or suggestions you may have. Disclaimer: I am not in any travel-related business. My advice is based on my own experiences and is free of charge (Donations welcome). It is always my pleasure to act as a beneficial counselor to those who are seekers of the next adventure.