Business as Usual -- Hardly

Friday, 12/25/2009

As there are no Chinese restaurants in BsAs, we wondered where one would eat on Christmas eve and Christmas day. Turns out that many restaurants remain open, and by the evening, most are open.

Outside our window is one of the busiest streets in the city. Here is a picture of what it looks like on a business day.

By contrast, on Christmas morning, the traffic was non-existent. We saw a man walking down the middle of the street, rather than crossing the street directly. All we could assume is that he must be doing that simply because he can.

We walked up to Recoleta to meet Marcos. We figured that something would be going on there. Indeed, the feria was beginning to open, as it would on a weekend. After browsing the feria again, we went across the plaza to visit the Recoleta Cemetery. The cemetery looks like a small town. The graves are all mausoleums, with ostentatious structures above ground and the remains of their owners, mostly in caskets, but some in cremation urns either on shelves or in crypts underground.

The remains of many – probably most – of the presidents and military leaders, as well as anyone of importance would be found in this cemetery. (I avoid using the terms “interred” or “buried” since there are only a tiny few who are actually in graves.)

There is always a crowd in front of the Familie Duarte mausoleum, since there rests the body of Evita (Eva Peron). About this time we heard a family walking behind us speaking Hebrew, so Marcos addressed them in Hebrew and we struck up a conversation.

Los chicos (the kids) are flying in this morning and Leandro's parents will be picking them up at the airport. We are invited for lunch, but we'll wait until they call us to make sure that they don't have to nap for a while to make up for the overnight flight.

We sat on the patio under a huge gomero (rubber tree) at the Cafe Biela at the edge of Recoleta Park (see picture of tree under “Being Tourists.”) This is one of the archtypical cafes of BsAs. Finally we heard from the kids, so we're off to meet them.

Of course, we took the bus. Marcos is always apprehensive about taking the bus, while I relish the opportunity to rub shoulders with the locals and to get to know the streets. On today's bus ride of about 3 miles, Marcos asked at least 4 times, “you ARE paying attention where to get off, right?” We stepped off the bus two blocks from their home.

We greeted the kids, whom we hadn't seen for over a week. Imagine: Leandro's parents see him only a couple of times a year.

Sylvia is the example of hospitality. When we entered the apartment, lunch was laid out on the dining table: 6 varieties of cheese, a tuna-rice-corn salad, smoked salmon, an olive-tomato-artichoke roll, various breads, a herring dish, and a bunch of other stuff that I can't recall as I write this. Alfajores for dessert. These are sandwiches of two cookies with any of a variety of fillings, but usually dulce de leche (caramelized condensed milk) with coconut or chocolate.

We left to meet a friend of the kids who had come down for the engagement party. We met in Recoleta. While the women went to the feria, three of us strolled around the barrio (neighborhood), checking out the restaurants and looking at the parks and statues and generally getting an orientation to the neighborhood.

After parting company with the friends, Leandro and I went to evening services at a synagogue in the Once (that's pronounced “own-say”) neighborhood. The building is one of the oldest synagogues in the city, dating from the end of the 1800's. It has a facade that identifies it immediately as a synagogue, while most of the temples in town are relatively anonymous from the street. It's gorgeous inside, but one doesn't take pictures on the sabbath, even in this VERY liberal congregation. They sang Adon Olam to the tune of "The Saints Go Marching In."

After Leandro dropped me off, we went to dinner, sitting outside at the corner cafe. In the 15 minutes between sitting down and beginning to eat, the wind picked up to a storm, and it began to rain. We quickly moved under the arcade roof, but the wind made it feel so cold that we couldn't bear it. There were no tables inside.

So we paid and carried our leftovers back to the apartment. I should have paid closer attention to the weather report.