Category Archives: Argentina

A visit to Chascomus City

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16 June 2014 –Tuesday

This morning I woke up really early. I couldn’t go back to sleep and anointed my head to fast. I fasted for the entire day.

I also help my roommate, Tina, make breakfast for everyone. I think Dr. Anderson felt some type of way having me make breakfast but I reassured her and Tina that I was fine cooking. I’ve cooked plenty of times for my family while I was fasting.

Today we traveled to Chascomus City. A city not very close by Buenos Aires. We had to take a van to get there and the van ride was horrible. People already are upset with each other and poor Dr. Anderson had to sit on a broken chair the whole 2 hour ride! I felt sorry for her. Marta got upset with me for singing out loud. All she had to do was ask me kindly to stop. I would have stopped.  I did stop and apologized to everyone. I felt we were all walking on egg shells with one another. The tension in the air was great. I couldn’t wait to get out of the van!

When we finally reached the city, it looked more like a college campus. The first place we went was to the main building the city (I think it’s called the Chascomus Laguna…I think) and used the restroom. This building was my favorite building because it had a dome inside that had fantastic acoustics! I mean, it was better than any church I’ve been in. You could really sing without a microphone and I felt like singing under that dome all day. While I was there testing, a young man came up to me with a camera and another young lady. They asked me if I could talk Spanish or French. Then in broken English asked me if they could interview me.

I turned to ask Dr. Anderson but she was gone with the rest of the group and sent Lauren upstairs to tell me to hurry out. He followed me down stairs and I was glad because Juan ended up doing the Interview which I think came out great. I wish Dr. Anderson would have spoken but she pushed us to do so. I forgot what I said, when the reporter put the camera in my face. I know I was blunt and told them that we were there to study the afro- argentines.  I also remember  my classmates sighing heavily and making snide remarks about being blunt or people there coming after us for what I said.

Finally, the tour of the city begun. Our tour guide name was Gabriela and she only spoke Spanish. She looked like my friend Edna from High school and they even had the same demeanor. I jotted down a few notes such as:

  • City founded in 1779
  • City preserves history of Afro-Argentines
  • 40,000 people live there and all maintain peace
  • The Indians were kicked out and only allowed back in if they were willing to adhere to the immigrants rules
  • 1865 the city begin to grow
  • A group of Indians called Malones (I think) learned how to fight the immigrants using guns and horses

Gabriela also told us about the building I fell in love with

  • It originally had 6 arches attached to the main entrance.
  • San Lamon was the architect

Gabriela continued to speak about other buildings. I begin to take fewer notes and more pictures. 

At the Cemetery

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Another Journal Entry:

15 June 2014 Sunday

Today we went to the Recoleta Cemetery. Yes, a cemetery.

I was a bit freaked out at first and I kept wondering if I even belonged there being that I it’s against my religion to participate at all in funerals. One of my classmates commented to me that she doesn’t do grave yards at all and we were able to connect. I quoted what Jesus said to his disciple, “let the dead, burry the dead”.

Nevertheless, I went along with my class and Dr. Anderson and at the end was not scared at all. I realized walking through that the Recoleta Cemetery was actually a tourist site! Imagine, a cemetery as place to sight see! But it is indeed like no other cemetery I ever saw! It is literacy a city of the dead! We walked in and had a time finding our way out. 

We met our tour guide, Simon, who made the tour very interesting and informative. It is at this site I begin to understand the story of the Peron’s and Roca, the father of the disappearance, since I was behind readings.

Simon’s mind seemed to be a store house of innocuous anecdote. He told us stories about government officials as well as others who happened to be buried in the cemetery.  A few stuck with me and if I could have a favorite, it will be the couple who always argued. The man held power of some sort which made the family rich. The women loved to shop, not clothing shopping but high art and things of value. She shopped and created debt for herself and her husband until he put his foot down and told her to quit. Of course she wouldn’t and that is when he refused to pay her debt or associate himself with her buying habit. They stopped talking and their graves were built resembling that fashion. Their backs were towards each other.

I should say here that these tomb stones are huge, some over 10 feet!

I also learned through the story of Rufina Cambaceres (1902 )that Argentina doesn’t waste time in burying the dead, she was buried alive!

The only animal buried in the cemetery is a dog of a girl named Lilliana who died in the 1970’s. She (I forgot if the dog or the girl died that day…) died on her wedding day.

The cemetery was once a garden and is connected to a huge church. It dates all the way back to 1716 and is 14.5 acres which is equivalent to 6 city blocks.

Check out my youtube videos for the full stories.

The Pink House

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Journal Entry:

14 June 2014

After the restaurant, we were given our first tour by Fernanda, an original Argentine young lady. She said she was an artist and did not know much history about her own country. She lead us to La Casa de Rosada which is where the president, Kristina Kirchaer lives or more importantly do her work.

We spoke about the San Martin who in 1850 won freedom for Argentina and went around South America fighting. 

We also went inside La Casa de Rosa and saw beautiful art work placed on the walls. The following are the people I took notes on who were interesting to me:

                Tupaj Katan a Bolivian who fought.

                Simon Bolivar who worked alongside of San Martin trying to gain independence for Peru, Venezuela, Columbia, Ecuador.

                Don Evo Morales Ayma

Street Magic on Calle Florida (Florida St.)

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Street Magic

Calle Florida is a famous tourist shopping drag. This is where I brought sweaters for my best friends and chic clothing for myself. This is also where I ate the best pizza I ever had!

Every time we went, there was a lot going on. This photo was taken on a Sunday. This magician carried all of his supplies, set up ambiance really quickly and tricked all who wanted to be tricked!

I also saw tango dancers, marionettist, and singers. Calle Florida was constantly alive with a spirit of hustling…. if that can be a spirit.

The greatest hustlers were  the people who weaved in and out of the crowd saying ‘cambio?, cambio?’. I learned what cambio meant just from walking down Calle Flordia. Dr. Anderson had warned us not to give any of them our money to change.

At MALBA

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At MALBA

I am standing in front of the museum with a classmate of mine, Juan.

I was happy that he was willing to go to the museum with me. This was our last day in Argentina. We were granted only one day of free time in Argentina but had to go where our professor suggested. We were the only two who wanted to go to the museum. Being that I don’t speak much spanish, I was greatful that he wanted to go too!

La Boca, Argentina

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La Boca, Argentina

I enjoyed La Boca because of its colorful structure. The barrio is a historic district that contains many colorful buildings and creative vendors. La Boca reflects the 1800’s and give reverence to the past. The homes show how the European Immigrants used to live when they first arrived in Argentina.. Some buildings are weak and dilapidated thus they don’t have entrances…at least not any that I noticed.  It’s like an outside museum.

One of my classmates is taking this picture of me. We are on a weak stairwell that leads to a balcony that is very dangerous…but you wouldn’t know that by looking at the photo.

 

Fancy Bench

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MALBA

I am at the Museo de Arte Latinoamericano de Buenos Aires with my classmate Juan. The bench is a decorative piece of work. The bench continues to grow along the side of the wall and down the ceiling. When you walk into the museo, you see the strips of the bench but you don’t know what it is, unitl you walk up the steps.

Ads in Bay Plaza Mall

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It’s my first time at Bay Plaza Mall. All the people here look like me, so I feel welcomed but not exactly at home. It’s a weird feeling. The building and its structure does not give me the feeling of pride, like if my people have arrived. Some of the stores are the same stores that once did not allow my people to enter or at least its workers seemed to dislike my people. And, even though they are now in my neighborhood, close to home, it seems things are still the same. 

I look up to see Macy’s. I was never a fan of Macy’s. It was never an option. Now, it is, being much closer to home. 

But something about this mall in all its glory and lights, is depressing. It really is.

I walk into Aldo shoe store and watch a store clerk tell a young lady the shoes really are one hundred and fifty dollars. The young lady places them back. It wasn’t the only time in the mall when I watched people put things back because of their prices.

Then I remember, this mall reminds me of a mall I went to in Argentina. A mall that was placed in a poor neighborhood. The people could only window shop.

However, in this case, these people are still buying. Could they afford the items? Well in America, you can dress up like you are a part of a different class, even if you are not in that class. Poor people don’t always look poor. In America, you can shop like you are happy with your financial situation.

There are plenty of people with bags. They seem to be proud of their bags. They carry them with long necks and talked with wide smiles. The names on the side of the bag seem to matter more than the items in the bag. American Eagle. Gap. Aeropostale. Victoria’s Secret. 

I didn’t shop. I couldn’t shop. So, I told my sisters they could go on without me. I sat down and tried to get a hold to my thoughts.

When I sat down, I thought about what I saw as soon as I entered the mall. I did not see the long lines or the big stores with their big names. I only saw the images of the model and those huge pictures in the windows. Almost all the pictures were of white women, white men, and white children. All the people around me were different shades of brown. The people shopping and the people working were all brown but the pictures hanging in the stores showed almost only white people. 

I saw a handful of white people at the mall. I even saw a white janitor and one white worker. There were some white people shopping. 

But for the most part, I see a sea of brown. They run the mall but they don’t own the mall. Those who run the mall place their images up, to remind us who run the mall, who really owns it. 

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