Trip to La Boca

09 Apr 2007

It is now time to tell you about some of the people I have met since arriving here in Buenos Aires.

My very first meeting was with my landlady, Cecilia. She was waiting patiently at the apartment for my late arrival from the airport just over two weeks ago. She speaks very good English, having lived in the USA for a short time, but having spoken English at home since the age of 10. She is a professional photographer and runs a photographic gallery in Palermo, one of the fashionable districts of Buenos Aires. 

Her gallery is elegant, in an old property just off the main square in Palermo Soho. Access is by a turned marble staircase to a mahogany panelled room with an astonishingly high ceiling, perfect to display the framed photographs which she sells. It is also her home, giving onto an apartment that overlooks the busy street. Around are expensive shops and restaurants, with street traders occupying the square, selling clothes and jewellery. 

My initial contact with Cecilia was through Norm from Belfast who has taken a three year career break from banking. Having rented out his home in Belfast, he has visited BsAs twice, previously for two months and this time for 5 to 6 months. He lives just beyond Palermo in an area called Colegiales. Norm is tall and good looking, obviously northern European with blond hair and a fair complexion, drawing lots of attention from passing girls. He has that Irish charm. A good friend, generous with his time and humour is always available to give advice when sought. Through him I was able to make my first two really important investments: a local mobile phone and an umbrella.

LA BOCA

Cecilia invited me to accompany her on a photo shoot in La Boca, preparing for her next book of photographs. This is the area on the outskirts of the city centre where they paint the tin-sheet clad houses in bright gaudy colours. Arriving by bus, we looked briefly at the two blocks visited by tourists. Around the riverside the buildings are like a film set, designed for tourists - with shops and cafes playing tango. 

But the real purpose of our trip was to access the unvisited part of the district, to take photos. It is incredibly poor. Sailors and their families arriving from overseas in the late 19th century rented  a room round a shared courtyard. The houses are clad in either ship-lap board or corrugated iron. Painting is much less vibrant than in the tourist areas, sometimes dark green, grey or rust coloured, mostly peeling and decrepit. Residents still live in these conditions, although a television screen may flicker from the windows. Rooms are desperately sparse - maybe a sofa, a chair and table and a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling. Some have separate bedrooms, divided by loose curtains on high rails to provide a sleeping area. Outsiders are not welcomed in the area and tourists do not venture here.

Cecilia walked slowly, taking photographs for her latest book. It was just turning dark when we arrived, and then night drew in. Because Cecilia fits in so well and moves with confidence, we were not disturbed or noticed. As instructed, I shielded the camera, giving me an opportunity to take in the surroundings: the smells, the sounds of voices and observe the many dogs and cats that roam the district, the light from windows where shutters were partly drawn, torn and worn curtains fluttering out in the gentle breeze. 

Buses are ubiquitous in BsAs. The remnants of a train system is so unreliable no one uses it. Retiro, the main station was built by British engineers in the 19th century and now almost defunct. There is also a subway or underground, although this comprises four lines which radiate from the city centre but hardly link beyond that. Which leaves buses and taxis. 

Radio taxis appear everywhere and are cheap to hire, an average journey across town being about 10 pesos (£1.40) for a 10 minute journey. Buses seem to date from the 1950s, roaring with noise and fumes. All appear different - the 29 from La Bocca having etched glass and mirrors around the drivers cab, and the windscreen topped with a fancy boudoir blind. The bus fare is currently 80c: less than 20 pence. The drivers drive as fast as they are able, aiming for a gap to barge through, with only the taxis for competition. It would take a brave taxi driver to take one on. These are the Goliaths of the street, and hoop their horns with a variety of imperious tones, some hissing, some like the whistle you would make if you were attracting attention....which they generally get. If that fails, they blast their horns and everyone scatters.

So, now I hope the city is coming alive for you as it is for me. The reassurance of some good friends and the city bustle which never stops.
My next blog will be more about dancing.