ARGENTINA Post Cards from Down South -Buenos Aires and Tango

Buenos Aires, a glamorous seaport and lively modern metropolis extends along the Rio de la Plata (River of Silver or River Plate), the estuary formed by the convergence of the Uruguay and Paraná Rivers on the southeastern cone of the South American coastline.

It is June and the weather is cold. Wandering the avenues of this wintry Southern hemisphere city, reveals a rich cultural identity steeped in continental tradition. Populated in the late 18^th century by working class Spaniards, Italians, Irish shepherds lured by the vastness of the pampas, and a mix of Eastern and Western Europeans on their way to making a new life in a land of opportunity, Buenos Aires became known as the Queen of the River Plate.

What I love about B.A., as the locals call it, is its intellectual beat. Over one hundred cinemas and live stages near and around the business district, but also throughout suburban communities grace the city, all presenting current local and international films, theater performances from previous and contemporary playwrights, opera, plus concerts in parks and auditoriums. 

And food (!), I can’t say enough about the wealth of culinary experiences as all types of global cuisines await the city’s ravenous palates within countless restaurants, tea houses, art galleries, and shopping malls.  People live intensely here, apparently preoccupied with their jobs, schoolwork, their cell phones or whatever motivates them. Women seem to smoke a great deal out of doors, no smoking is allowed indoors. Sidewalk cafes, in spite of the cold weather, teem with students, shoppers and tourists sipping cappuccinos and strong demitasse coffees.

We are staying in something called an aparthotel, which combines the freedom of a well-equipped apartment with the integrated convenience of weekly maid service and daily breakfast. It is easily accessible by the subway line D, bus and taxi service and not far from Recoleta, an uptown district of architectural and historic interest. Of note is the Recoleta Cemetery where Evita Peron, once first lady of Argentina, is buried.

In my recent walks, I have discovered local artists’ shops, bookstores and colorful row houses in the Italian district of La Boca, a little ‘cultural pocket’ where early immigrant settlers established Buenos Aires’ first seaport. 

Caminito St. (little road) is said to have been the site of the first accordion notes of the Argentine tango.  Although it is crowded with pedestrians in the early hours of the afternoon, I got the feeling that at night, safety may be an issue in this part of town, not violent crime, but possibly pick- pocketing -- a fact much in accordance with the character of any large metropolitan area.

Immediately captivated by the first chords of a tango, I sit down on a nearby bench and listen to the solitary accordionist on Caminito St., squeezing  and expanding  the large instrument on his lap with both hands,  a most melodious sound filling the frosty air.

I have read somewhere that the Tango was born in Buenos Aires around the later part of the nineteenth century; however, this happened only along the fringes of the city, by the river, in houses of disrepute, gambling casinos, and taverns -- places frequented by lonely sailors and manual workers seeking distraction and romance. 

The close contact of the dance steps -- close hold, cheek to cheek, chest to chest, interlacing fingers and legs -- made the tango socially unacceptable to respectable families and women of good reputation. The beginning, the Tango began to be practiced by men and women of questionable repute because women from suitable upbringing were unavailable to do so.

Gradually, the new dance spread mostly among the Italian and Polish immigrants already acquainted with the close embrace of the waltz and the polka. It took even longer for the well-to-do families to allow their daughters, sisters and girlfriends to incur in a few respectable dance steps in the tearooms and dance halls of the prospering southern city. 

Between the late 1880’s and early 1930’s, Argentina’s character changed, growing rapidly along its increasing population, multi level buildings, wide boulevards and attractive parks. A rich and educated portion of young students customarily accustomed to long stays in Paris and London, apparently introduced the first sounds of the Argentinian tango at European music halls.

The harmony became a favorite of the nightclub scene throughout Europe and later on across the Atlantic.

By the 1920’s, the Tango took New York City by storm, Hollywood by surprise, and on its return to Argentina it was received as a privileged international child, at last considered respectable on the home front.

Seemingly an Afro-Portuguese or creole word in origin, tango came to be known in Argentina, and probably other Spanish colonies, at the onset of the slavery trade, efficiently carried out by the Spaniard and Portuguese settlers in the 17^th century.  Some say tango was the word used for the tight confined spaces slaves had to endure on their ocean crossings to the new world. Others say tango refers to an African drumbeat. Whatever its true origin, the tango has crossed boundaries and today is one of the world’s most favorite dances. 

I have been told that the USA has vibrant tango communities, large and small, where week long festivals are held yearly. Many students of tango around the world dream of sometime dancing it in Buenos Aires.

The ultimate dancing spots for tango lovers in Buenos Aires are the beautifully preserved nineteenth century dance hall called Confiteria Ideal, and the Plaza Dorrego weekend flea and antique market where very talented couples tango in the open air on Spring and Summer days.

On my way back to my aparthotel, I make my way through Plaza Dorrego, a hushed shaded plaza with deciduous trees where the people of Buenos Aires, called porteños, bring their baby carriages and their newspapers. It seems to be one of the many lovely squares that adorn the city, on the plaza itself side-walk cafes serve cortados (lattes) and deliciously light and crisp croissants called medialunas (half-moons).

An assortment of antique shops and art galleries regale the eye with impressive timeless objects and works of art. I am told the Sunday Flea Market is a must and that the remarkable buildings surrounding Plaza Dorrego, have been restored to their original late 1800’s European architectural splendor by the Restoration Committee of the Museo de la Ciudad (Museum of the city).

  

At almost 5 PM, dusk approaches and crossing the Avenida Independencia, the roar of the traffic brings to mind my steaming Bangkok days, except that the weather here is cold, and the city appears to be encased in a haze of frosty polar air that to me feels just like forthcoming snow. I am so glad for my cozy gloves, hat and scarf!

ESW@/june2010