Farewell Argentina

The time has come for a big change. The chilly Patagonian winds are bearing up from the south and the sunny faces of summer have given way to fall. The sun arcs lower now and the skyline has begun its annual burning of bright autumn colors above the palos borrachos, drunken trees, with their swollen trunks and wide branching limbs now covered with pink and white blossoms, signaling winter. The smell of asado is strong, the taste of mate bitter. The wind bites cold and I must leave Buenos Aires, my home for over two years.

Photo of the Obelisco by Aldo Sessa

For my farewell I would like to write on my memories, what I carry with me now, the lessons I have learned and the impressions I have kept close. 

I love mate in the morning. The mate I drink is strong: Nobleza Gaucha. One sip fills you with the power to get through all the morning's activities. It is the healthiest energy drink, the strongest, and the only one I will ever touch. 

There are many peculiarities and incongruities. Eating dinner at 10:30 at night is normal as well as arriving an hour late to a party. Last night I ate dinner at midnight. Long live the friendly camaraderie in this city that doesn't sleep.  

Political parties bus people by the thousands into the city center for rallies or demonstrations. Strength in numbers perhaps. My street, 9 de Julio, is often the center of such events. The marchers wave flags and banners in support of the communist left, photos of Che Guevara, Chavez and other firebrand anti-yanquis and anti-colonial mantras. It is such a grand show of popular support, yet government orchestrated and funded. What happened to the silent majority? I wonder how much of this is driven by popular will or by the lining of people's pockets.

I will miss you El Cuartito. The fuggazetta rellena will live long in my memory. It's a thick pizza, filled with cheese and topped with a layer of onion. I have never tasted a pizza quite like it before. It is distinctly Porteño, and one of the ultimate comfort foods.

I cannot forget the asado. Of course I must mention that. I say one has not tried meat until they have tried Argentine asado. We can do good barbecue in the states, but the sheer size of the cuts of meat, the variety--costillas, lomo, cuadril, vacio, chorizo, morcilla, chinchulines, molleja--I've never seen a barbecue with all of those in the states. In Argentina, to have all types of meat at an asado, is a commonplace affair. There is a tradition of cooking meat slow, a patient, day-long affair in which people enjoy each other's company. I have found the asado to be more exciting than the traditional American barbecue. It is slower and has greater variety. People mingle and socialize, and the anticipation grows as the meat cooks. Just when you think you can't wait any longer the first course finishes and you devour a delicious chorizo or morcilla sausage, before mingling some more. Time allows for the experience to develop, to become richer and more mature. Asado satisfies both the gut and the soul.

Jardin Botanico

I will miss the autumn and the spring, and the way the cool winds blow and toss the leaves which dance and spin above the pavement in San Telmo, Recoleta, Palermo, or quiet Colegiales. Buenos Aires has the perfect climate in the autumn and spring.

I will miss the many wonderful relationships I have developed. Buenos Aires feels like a second home, and I know that, though I am leaving for the moment, this place, these memories, the people all remain with me. I'll carry it all with me for as long as I gain in wisdom from such remembrances.

But there are also the difficult memories, the ones not mentioned in light conversation. They are heavy and people don't want to hear them unless they are comfortable with topics most people find indigestible. These are the memories that tend to stick the longest. They are the most difficult to understand, and often take the longest to let go.

This city can be cruel. It threatens the senses with images and actions that give rise to the hysteria and fury Porteños know so well. 

I have seen two dogs run over on the widest avenue in the world. The dogs marched across as the wide line of heavy machinery vroomed down upon them. All one could do was watch, as the dogs faced down the firing squad of cars careening forward. Both lived, but wimpered and limped away helplessly. Both stray.

You know you're hardened when you no longer feel guilty about seeing the homeless in the street, or the kids begging for food and change. You accept they have no right to food, no right to your money, though once you felt guilty when the faced you with their sob story and asked for change.

The world is not fair. It doesn't have to be fair. The homeless sleep in the streets. The beggars, always aggressive, with their brisk young walk--they are always young--approaching you, shaking your hand, pretending your friends, but you're nothing to them but what you can give. They only want you for what they deserve, your money.

The circumstances of others, their decisions, their needs, cannot and should not concern you. In this city idealism easily gives way to the realities of the situation. There are too many asking for help. There are too many trying to swindle. There are too many who will betray your trust at a moment's notice if they see an advantage in doing so.

You begin to look at people and circumstances coldly. You feel no compassion for those you don't know, those who are not your friends, you do not look at them, you ignore their pleas for money, that they have a baby to feed, that they haven't eaten in days, that they cannot work. You ignore all of that because people are capable of anything, and any sign of weakness, of guilt, of compassion, and you throw yourself to the sharks.

When those young bucks with their brisk walks see a weakness they do not let you go until they've gotten something. They stick to you like a leach, speaking and speaking, justifying their circumstances. They tell you it's not their fault. They cannot work. They are forced to beg in the street. They say everything they want you to hear, buttering you up for the picking, wearing you down with words and complaints and friendly gestures until the only way to get rid of them is to give them what they want. You must pay them to leave you in peace, and when you pay them you feel more guilty. They shake your hand, they pat you on the back, and they leave you thinking to themselves what a sucker.

Asado in Peruti Village - Misiones, Argentina.

Meanwhile you go home, knowing you were taken advantage of, and hating yourself for it. The more this happens the harder you become, until you're like the rock of Gibraltar. They can see when you're a rock. Your eyes, deadpan when they begin their usual speal, and they don't even finish. They know from looking at you that you're not shark bait, and they move on to give their speal to the next poor sod with a weakness for Christian guilt and compassion.

But then there are the late nights. The blur and rush of people mingling and connecting, all gathering at the asado, the joda, or the despedida, forming new connections, developing new networks, and becoming a part of new crowds. Friendships form through mutual connections, which come and go so quickly here. This is a city of transition, of constant change. It is vast, it is growing, and it is moving forward, sweeping the people along with it.

I am no longer swept along by the progress. I'm returning to slower waters, Vermont, my country home. I will miss you Buenos Aires, but this is not the end. I still drink mate, love asado, will build a parrilla, and will look forward to coming back, reconnecting, seeing those so close to my heart, and experiencing this wonderful city again.

All best until next time,

Kyle

Felix Felicis

As I have alluded to in previous posts, Buenos Aires is not necessarily the best place for getting a fine cup of coffee. Yes the city is full of quaint, Parisian cafes and yes the cafes have nobly dressed waiters, and yes the environment is vintage... but is the coffee any good? In general no. For me the measure of good coffee is the amount of sugar I have to add. If sugar is necessary, the coffee is no good. If I drink the coffee straight, then it's a sign they are doing something right.

They make a killer Americano!

In most neighborhoods in the city the cafes are very traditional. They serve tostadas and medialunas for breakfast, a filet with papas for lunch, and a merienda of common tea and toast with cheese and jelly. However, in Palermo one can find a number of high quality, artesanal cafes, all within a 10 block radius. That's a heavy concentration given the size of the city and the relative lack of good-tasting coffee anywhere else.

The large picture windows offer a wonderful view onto the street

In my last post I talked about Lattente. Aside from Lattente, there are a few other cafes in the vicinity that offer trendy, new ways to drink coffee that really highlight the flavors of the beans, allowing for a more artistic, interactive experience. These include Full City Coffee, Coffee Lab, and recently opened Felix Felicis. In these local cafes you're not just drinking cafe con leche sweetened with sugar, in these cafes you get to experience the soil, the climate, and the altitude of coffee-growing regions around the world. Forget leche, lets drink coffee the real way.

Creative postcards make a
wonderful and inexpensive gift.

Recently opened Felix Felicis, located on Cabrera and Serrano, offers yet another wonderful excuse for enjoying a hot cup of artesanal coffee. The baristas are well-trained, having worked and trained in cafes such as Lattente. The location lacks decoration as of yet, but the white walls and expansive sidewalk offer great potential, and the large glass windows allow in lots of light and provide an excellent view for those who wish to sip their coffee at one of the window seats and watch the city pass by.

I went for opening day and tried an Americano which was quite good, and which had the strong, sweetly acidic flavor of the Colombian beans they use. They don't serve much in terms of food, as Felix Felicis is more about sharing quality coffee and conversation than it is about offering as much as possible for the clientele, and in a neighborhood of expats, students and tourists, this often makes for a winning combination.

Cheers,

Kyle

A view from the entrance!

The Beginning to a Farewell

Greetings all, 

I am writing this post after a long absence. After returning from Colombia in January I had several months of terrible fatigue and extreme lack of energy. Only later did I realize that the fatigue and tiredness was due to mononucleosis, a virus that can be debilitating but usually clears up after a month or two. 

Fortunately I have made a complete recovery, but during that time I made the decision to return to the states, and thus will be leaving Buenos Aires at the end of March. Having lived here for over two years I can say I have mixed feelings about the decision, but the date is set, and I must thus take full advantage of the little time I have left in this fine city. 

I would like to dedicate my last string of posts on Buenos Aires to sharing some of my favorite spots, both the touristy and the not-so-touristy. I'll start with a local cafe that serves some of the best coffee in Buenos Aires. 

1. Lattente

Buenos Aires is known as the Paris of the Americas. It has the French architecture, the parks, and picturesque cafes on nearly every corner. Surprisingly, however, good coffee is hard to find here. Most of the cafes use old machines and the coffee has a weak, headache-inducing flavor that I almost always need to mask with half a packet of sugar. I always measure the quality of a coffee by how much sugar I need to put in, and at Lattente, located in Palermo on Thames 1891, I've never put a single grain of sugar into the coffee.

The reason for this is that they use a blend of pure arabica coffee from Colombia, which they get from Coffee Lab, a coffee roaster and cafe also located in the Palermo area. All the baristas are expert coffee makers, and many have won coffee-making competitions in the past. The location has just been renovated and has a very community-oriented atmosphere. Instead of individual tables, there are several long tables in which the clients--all from diverse backgrounds--can intermingle and socialize.

They do not offer much in terms of food, but they do have some delicious almond and pistachio pastries to go with your Americano or cafe latte. And if you're a coffee connoisseur in search of that good cup then Lattente is one of the best cafes to try. Now, they even have single origin coffees which they prepare either using an aeropress or V60. Unfortunately they do not use the French Press, which is my favorite method of coffee preparation as it allows for a more rugged, earthy cup. But, there are many ways to prepare a good cup of coffee, and Lattente certainly does a good cup.     

Cheers to coffee, the most important meal of the day!

Kyle