Random Rants from Down South

November 22, 2005
San Telmo, Buenos Aires



Ojo = Caution
Literally ojo means ‘eye’, but when you put your forefinger to your face below one eye and draw downward, it means CAUTION! Pretty much everyday someone, somewhere in this huge city tells me “OJO, here its VERY dangerous!” If I’m in a taxi I usually try to explain that West Oakland is way more dangerous than any part of Buenos Aires that I’ve been to so far. One time, two men slowed down and paced along side of me in their car. “OJO… aca es muy peligroso!” the passenger shouted. Thanks… I know, I’ll be careful. “NO…” he continued in exalted, rapid Spanish. “You can’t walk here with the camera… PUT IT IN YOUR BAG!” I actually got quite irritated. “I’m a photographer… its part of my job. Thanks for the warning¨." He continued on for a bit trying to tell me to at least not walk past the bridge. “Look… there’s my bus stop, the 152. I’ll be fine… I’m working… I’M A PHOTOGRAPHER!”

Sub-Tropical Heat and Plastic Lawn Chairs
The first time I witnessed this Latin American phenomenon was in Pinotepa Nacional, Mexico, a couple of years back sitting in a small taco bar next to the main plaza in town with Burro, Steele, PTK, and Super Dave. The chico serving us advised me before we sat down, not to sit in the white plastic lawn chairs, very common in cafes throughout Latin America. I switched to a metal chair but Steele did not head the warning. Half way through our meal his chair suddenly buckled and he headed for the floor, barely catching himself on the way down with one arm. We laughed about that one for quite some time. Eating late night burgers just the other night after the Manu Chao concert, the same thing happened. Although this time there was next to no warning and after the slight sense of uh oh… the chair splintered into a million pieces and I hit the floor, hard. I looked at the kid behind the counter as he simply shrugged his shoulders and watching me slowing pick myself up from the ground. Then, a couple nights later I was invited to my first asado (barbeque) in Baldi’s house (Samy’s ex-boyfriend). The succulent meats were SO out of site that I almost didn’t catch myself as the same thing started happening all over again. But this time, I felt the initial buckle of the rear chair leg… and immediately stood up in front of more than twenty-five people… close one.

Tyranny Tours & Transnochar
Literally meaning, ‘to cross the night’, the verb transnochar is foreign to most foreigners. It’s like Tom Waits said, ‘never saw the morning till I stayed up all night.’ Last night, my flat mates and I trekked across the city to Palermo Viejo, the chi-chi part of town where most foreigners choose to live. Danny and Aimee live there. First to Mundo Bizaro and then to my favorite bar in town, Lele de La Troyja, named after Helen of Troy’ Afterwards, we hopped in a taxi and I asked the driver about the ‘best tour in BA,’ according to El Travel Burro – the nighttime tyranny tour. Oh yeah… its just up here, the Red Zone. Danny had been talking about this ever since he first arrived in BA the first time, many months ago. Living up to its legend, there were more than 50 hot transvestites, some nearly naked, all for sale. It’s like a zoo… they hide in the bushes, walk along the lonely street and congregate in groups of three or four along the main park drag. We raced back across the deserted town in the taxi watching random motorists fly past us as we wait at a red light in the middle of the widest street in the world. We all agreed that the city is most alive and most comfortable and most beautiful just before dawn.