Day 17--Buenos Aires

The primary goal today was to visit the Ethnographic Museum, near the Place de Mayo--closed for renovation when we passed through two weeks ago. Much to our dismay, it was STILL CLOSED! Hardly a substitute but still interesting was the Museum of the City around the corner, a beautiful 19th-C home furnished as it had been in 1900-- much of the furniture, fashions, toys imported, and the decor and tile art nouveau. Then we had to stop again for coffee and pastries at the wonderful Cafe Tortoni, opened by Italians in 1885 and still gorgeous with its high ceilings, wood columns, stained glass and elderly bow-tied waiters.

By 1885 Argentina had been independent of Spain for 75 years, the natives in Patagonia were being exterminated under General Roca, and European immigrants were coming in droves to settle the newly vacant land in Patagonia. BA had recovered from the yellow fever epidemic of 1870 and was growing outward from the oldest areas of San Telmo, where these museums are, and La Boca, the old port area.

Walking the cobbled streets as far as we could we finally took a cab the rest of the way to La Boca. It is the seedy part of BA, where the tango in all its beauty, sexuality and violence had its origins. We had empanadas near the water in a sidewalk cafe where a young couple
danced the tango and then passed the hat. Tourists flock to this 4-block square area in the
daytime, known also for its gaily-painted buildings. As we were leaving, four huge tour buses pulled up, disgorging their passengers into the various tango souvenir shops. A taxi back to our area passes through the saddest-looking slum I've almost ever seen,by the water and under the highway going to the airport, one flimsy tenement on top of another.

We have realized the Argentine art we've been looking for that might reveal the Argentine identity is mostly in private places-- wonderfully diverse and expressive. Cafe Tortoni, our hotel, restaurants, private galleries all have art on their walls. These artists are the ones born here, not transplants. They have lived through Peron, the dirty war, the disappearances, hyperinflation. The paintings show people, street scenes, still lifes in sensitive ways with loads of color but full of intelligence. The political art that's most noticeable is public graffiti everywhere, often critical of Cristina.

We're tired of cabs so walk to a parrilla near our hotel for dinner. The food is not as good as last night's but the place is packed. We learned today that portenos, as BA's residents are known (becuase most of their forebears arrived here by ship), don't cook at home, preferring to go out--such a contrast to their European ancestors.