Estados Unidos

Calle Estados Unidos is a fascinating street of Buenos Aires. If we follow it out to the west beyond barrio Caballito, our tree-lined calle fades into calle Valle, only to end abruptly eighteen blocks later at calle Miró (just short of LaBaldosa Milonga). 

But, for the purpose of our adventure we shall walk east taking us on a journey through Boedo, Monserrat, San Telmo and finally into Puerto Madero.

Treaty of Pilar 1820

Following the defeat of the 'Unitarians' by the 'Federals' in 1820, the new ‘United Provinces of the Rio de la Plata’ was recognised by the USA, and Calle Estados Unidos was later named in their honour. 

It is one of the city’s greener streets bearing jacaranda and tipuana tipu trees along its length. In spring and autumn the pavements glow with pink and yellow petals. With a relaxed feel, preserved architecture, and an intimacy, it presents as a favourite street to walk.

Save for the inexplicable dog-leg at Riobamba, Estados Unidos is a straight, one-way grid road running west to east bringing light traffic into the city. It is sandwiched between the busy east to west roads of Independencia and Carlos Calvo which take traffic from the centre. On the whole, incoming traffic seems to prefer the more versatile roads of Chile to the north and San Juan with its wide open carriageway to the south.

Estados Unidos is unremarkable before we reach Av Boedo, where the street passes one block to the north of DeQuerusa Milonga at Carlos Calvo 3745, skirting the gardens of Plaza Mariano Boedo, and running three blocks north of Club Gricel Milonga at La Rioja 1184.

At Pres Luis Saenez Pena you are but one block from Casa Bella (Independencia 1502), a worthy detour to an emporium selling everything from a portable BBQ to a full size asado.

Estados Unidos becomes more interesting once across 9 de Julio (the widest avenida in Buenos Aires) as you enter barrio San Telmo. Passing the small park of Plaza Concepcion del Alto de San Pedor, the street narrows and cobbles replace tarmac.

At Tacuari 905 is our first San Telmo milonga ‘Chanta 4’, and at Estados Unidos 802 you will encounter the Museo Argentino del Titere (puppet museum).

A stop at Estados Unidos 617 is a must. Here you will find Walrus Books, one of the more interesting stores in Buenos Aires, stocking the widest selection of foreign books in the city.




Further on look out for the street art at 553 and proceed down to Peru, where a few steps right will take you to The Gibraltar at 895, a very popular San Telmo pub. Thirst quenched, continue on to La Brigada at 465.



La Brigada is said to be one of the best steak restaurants in Buenos Aires, combining eating with football. But this place is no slouch. Booking is essential, as is a well-charged credit card. It is all worth the effort and expense, setting almost unattainable standards of cuisine and service for its rivals.

Across the road from La Brigada is the Mercado de San Telmo, the city’s most iconic covered market containing restaurants, cafes, antiques, hardware, grocers and butchers.

Freddo (Defensa 901) might prove to be a suitable stop for ice cream, but for morning coffee, lunch or afternoon cocktails continue down to Café Rivas at 302. This has to be a favourite for those visiting San Telmo. Intimate, smart and friendly, Café Rivas ticks all boxes for those seeking a midday snack or full evening meal. For vegetarians, continue down to Balcarce, turn right to 958 where you will find Naturaleza Sabia.



Beyond Balcarce, Estados Unidos descends to Av Paseo Colon with the dramatic frontage of the Engineering faculty on your left and the gorgeous Ministry of Agroindustry to the right. Walking between them leads you towards Av Alicia Moreau de Justo, the gateway to Puerto Madero where Estados Unidos gives way to Rosario Vera Penaloza and the Rio Darsena Sur.

Aux Charpentiers - traditional clothing of Argentina

 

Mexico the country may be in the news because of a wall; but we are heading to Mexico the street in Monserrat Buenos Aires.

At the junction with Santiago del Estero, at Mexico 1302 is a totally traditional store. We have seen it several times in passing, examined the window displays and become intrigued. Whilst other shops around it have been modernising and re-modernising,  over the past 139 years Aux Charpentiers has remained relatively unchanged, and thus unique. 

A sign on the door says that the shop is open, and we try the handle only to remember that many shopkeepers keep their street door locked; so we ring the bell. Carmen's husband Enrique, neatly dressed and grey haired opens up, and welcomes us into the cool dark store. 

To both left and right are long glass counters revealing small displays and perfectly ordered piles of clothes. Further to our right dark oak sectioned shelves reach for the ceiling, each dressed with stock in order of size. The shelves continue around to the right in an L shape, with a brocade hung changing area to the rear. The tiled floor is polished. There is a sense of peace and timelessness. And the old fashioned scent of an historic clothes store, taking us back to childhood memories of yesteryear. 

Aux Charpentiers was founded in 1888 and run for over 60 years by Carmen's father, Juan Robligio. On Juan's death his son Roberto and daughter Carmen took over to carry on the grand family tradition. 

Here is everything traditional in Argentine clothing. Wonderful pantalones - Bombachas de gaucho, camisas, zapatas and boinas. To one side are the jackets, below the counter are braces and belts. At the side of a glass-fronted tongue and groved cabinet are photos of family and wedding groups, one from France, another from the countryside here in Argentina. 

 In the shop window I spied a pair of traditional Argentine trousers, high waisted,  gathered in two sets of three pleats at the front, and a further two sets at the hip - then tapering to buttoned cuffs at the ankle. Enrique quickly measures and lifts down my size. Here are fawn/cream, charcoal, blue and olive green. As befits a traditional pantalone, there are no zips - just recessed fly buttons. The pockets are deep and buttoned to the back. The ankle cuffs carry three buttons which, unless riding, are generally left unfastened. 

I carry a 'winter weight' pair to the changing area and swish the heavy maroon curtain across its length, running smoothly on a curved brass rail. They have to fit. I try them. They do. And for the first time I realise why Stephanie loves shopping. It is with delight that I exit to seek Stephanie's approval, which she gives.

In just minutes we have slipped back decades into history and tradition. The whole experience is like tasting an unexpected vintage Malbec - the bouquet, the initial taste on the tongue, the surprise, the delight, and the swallow as I reach for my wallet modestly to pay.

Aux Charpentiers have not seen the last of us. We shall return, and return again no doubt. Carmen's store has captured our hearts and imagination. I am now a gaucho. This is why we came to Buenos Aires.

 

Another Sunday in Monserrat, Buenos Aires

 

Another Sunday. I sit in the shade of the garden.

The rufous bellied thrush has just descended through the banana tree into the garden to look for grubs. A dragon fly darts away. Voices nearby murmur accompanied by the chinking of cutlery on late lunch plates. A chair squeaks on a polished floor. Somewhere someone sneezes. A dog barks. Distant, the sound of a radio; more distant the voices of children playing. Closer, the sound of Osvaldo Fresedo's 'Canto de Amor'  tango wafts through Casa Luna.

 

Cleo the tango dancing cat snoozes, curled around my chair. A breeze picks up the pages of Stephanie's book.

Sunday is one of those days you simply want to drink in. In bright sunshine no one makes unnecessary movements, but relaxes just as the weekend intends. There is a definite 'art' to relaxation, one which climate and circumstances sometimes deny. But here in Buenos Aires the art is perfected. Time feels as if it has slowed to a stroll, giving the chance to collect, to think, and to dream.

Casa Luna - the first 40 days

As 2016 closed, I exchanged my practice as a barrister for the new challenge, with Stephanie, of 'manager of a tango house' in Buenos Aires. So - how has it been? What is it like to 'up and off' to another continent and take on new responsibilities?

Those who have been following my blog will know that Stephanie and I left the UK on 8 December to visit Buenos Aires for four months, our first two and a half months taking on the role of managers of Casa Luna, a well known tango house here in Monserrat. Our hosts and house owners, Vicki and Rob left for California shortly after our arrival, leaving us with their home, their tango guests, Cleo their cat, and the novel chance to manage a tango hotel.

Southern hemisphere summer in Buenos Aires is an unexpected delight. We had assumed that it would be hot and humid to the point that day-to-day tasks would be burdensome. Not so. There are occasional days when temperatures soar and energy levels drop; but mostly the climate is a joy, especially on those days when we read of snow and sleet in the UK. The weather does dictate a pace - taking each day at a time without too much expectation for activity when really hot, or wet; but the climate brings a new attitude to life, and even the hottest, most humid moment - or a sudden thunder storm - brings more opportunity than restriction. Climate becomes simply a state of mind, to be addressed as it happens, and to be cherished for the difference and variety it makes to daily life.

Neither Stephanie nor I had any doubts about our capacities to run a tango house. Of course, the unknown element was 'the guests'. With three letting rooms - additional to our own suite - we wondered what experiences awaited. We need not have been concerned. Vicki and Rob's policy - to invite English speaking, tango dancing guests from the USA or Europe - meant that all of our guests have shared our passion for life and for dance. The ethos of the house is one of independent, supported living, in which the house managers meet and greet guests, advise about tango venues, city sites, restaurants and places of interest. Most guests choose to eat out, dining being relatively inexpensive, so there is little pressure on the well equipped kitchen. Our first 40 days have been fascinating, with great guests who have added interest and friendship. To date, all have been experienced visitors to Buenos Aires.

The tango house itself was designed and built as a 'Petit Hotel' for its first owner Dr Rodolfo Bonanni, and retains many of its original 1930's Art Deco features. As with most properties here in the capital, the house is but two large rooms in width, yet extends back deep into the block, with an enclosed side passage leading to the garden at the rear. The rooms comprise the Peron Room - a ground floor double, the Porteno Room - formerly the maid's quarters,  a single room with adjacent shower room, the Garden apartment, and the Gardel suite - currently occupied by Stephanie and I. Additionally, there is the through reception room/dining room, the dance studio and the kitchen leading to the back stairs and laundry. From the Gardel suite there is a large first floor terrace, overlooking the garden featuring a vigorous banana tree and other semi-tropical plants.

  

Caring for Cleo, the tango dancing cat; and tending the garden have been two principal tasks. The other main responsibility is house security, taken very seriously throughout Buenos Aires. Over our first 40 days, we have been successful in these roles. In relation to the house guests, we sense that we have added value to their stay; and in the process, made good, lasting friendships.

 

Reflecting on our extended stay, not simply as tourists, but as house managers, the experience has been totally energising. It has given our time here a special quality - one of 'belonging' rather than just passing through. At milongas, when asked about my trip, I take pleasure in boasting that I am here to work as manager of a tango house, if only in my own mind, giving me a significance that otherwise I would not have experienced.

We have now entered our final month as managers of Casa Luna. Already, the weather has started to change from hot days and steamy nights, to warm days and cool evenings. As the summer season unfurls we already taste a tinge of regret at the prospect of leaving Casa Luna. But another adventure awaits as we return to San Telmo and the familiar streets of another bario.

 

Knife grinder

After the rain the pavements are washed, the gullys have been drenched, and the sun shines on a clean city. The row of Jacarandas seem spritely as they soak their roots from underground reserves. We walk Chile towards Entre Rios. Filigree shadows are cast across the sidewalk from the shrubs of hidden gardens. Ahead, the sound of music.

We have heard the sound before but known not what it was. Panpipes, but of a shrill nature rather than the sonorous modulation of Peruvian pipes. The scale from A to G and then down to E. Somewhere in the scale the notes sharpen with a plastic lilt. It repeats - and stops - then repeats again. I look across the street, and behind to identify its source. I check the balconies and glance within darkened door ways.

Ahead, a man wheels his bicycle. One of those old ones with a battered black frame and disjointed pedals. The handlebars stick out straight and a side stand leans out towards the kerb. Its owner makes leisurely progress, but seems intent. And then it happens. He lifts small panpipes to his lips and blows another scale. The notes are shrilled by proximity. He looks expecatantly as he passes the hardware shop.

Attached firmly to the cross bar is a grindstone, one of those that are revolved by pedal power. Its surface is both rough and smooth, round but worn, its edges shaved away. As he lifts his cap, a shock of grey hair falls across his eyes, and he shakes it back from his face. I notice that his fingers are those of a pianist, long and slim. He is a knife grinder.

Knives are serious investments here in Buenos Aires, especially those made from a softer steel that quickly take an edge. As Stephanie and I pass the corner shops I pause to examine rows of knives - simple cooking knives, steak knives, long elaborate decorative daggers with leather scabbards. The cheaper ones bear a Brazilian mark; the more coveted are of Argentine make, with engraving and rustic wooden handles. 

A grindstone is so diffrent from a steel. The edge is taken to the finest cut, then finished with an oiled stone and then smoothed with a rough cloth. Both sides are addressed, but in different ways, depending on the bevel and the handedness of the user. Sharpness demands that the weight of the blade should be sufficient to cause the cut. I feel for my small penknife attached to my keysafe and conclude that this may not be the right knife. We pass; a customer calls to him; he stops; and we wish that we had our camera.

Photo by courtesy of Knivesgrinders  

Estancia San Francisco - Its not just cheese

Me: Why am I excited about a trip to a cheese shop?"
Stephanie: "Because its not just a cheese shop, its an event!"

We walk in from the street. Gustav greets us with a smile, then a grin. He speaks English with an accent like Manuel from Faulty Towers, but the resemblance ends there. Gustav is the manger of a speciality cheese shop, and is robust, with greying hair and a large white apron. His hands are quick and manicured. He is always happy.

Our conversation started the usual way in Buenos Aires. "Where are you from"? "London"? 'No, we are from the north". "Ahh, Scotland - my brother lived in Scotland". We decide that Scotland is close enough to qualify as our home whilst we are 7,000 miles away, and leave it as 'Scotland'.

This is a cheese shop as you may never imagine. Large cheeses dress the windows to the street, and rows stretch along the counter top. Each labelled and marked with price per kilo. Stephanie selects Patras Paulina, a large, firm, yellow cheese, and a smaller piece of Pategras San Pimenta.

Cutting the cheese is an art. Deft and quick - you would not wish to meet Gustav in a dark alley with his knife. We examine the range of salame and pick 100 g of the de Puro Cerdo. And the nuts - there are bags and boxes of nuts, some shelled, others whole, varieties unseen elsewhere. Brazil nuts are expensive, and we choose walnuts. Then to the olives.

Olives are not behind the counter. They are displayed in a brightly lit windowed show case of olives and other delicacies, in large round metal bowls, spilling with produce. The Aceitunas Negras Conimenta are jet black and dimpled. "You try"? says Gustav. They are hot, peppery and astoundingly robust. We will have a pot "so big..." we say, and Stephanie cups her hands, extending them as Gustav ladles another spoonful.  I feel the heat of summer sun and the sound of olives raining to the ground in the harvest; I see the dark barrels in which they are stored over the winter; I smell the oil and the spices.

Cheese is an expensive commodity here in Buenos Aires that many local Portenos cannot afford. It is sometimes given as a present, especially the more exotic cheese. This is principally a nation of meat-eaters, although basic mass-produced cheese appears in the beautifully cut sandwiches, quiches, empanadas and omelettes.

We drift to the cash point to pay. This is not supermarket style, its just a separation of cash from the produce. Around us are a thousand jars and boxes of exotic items, savoury and sweet - each with a distinct character. We resist the temptation this time.

Gustav waves as we leave the shop. He remembers not our names, but he is always happy to greet. We remember his because relationships are so important here, and with this comes the value of connection. A bit like tango. Are we surprised? Not at all.

Casa Luna and Los Consagrados

Casa Luna is situated in the bario Monserrat, to the west of the micro centre, just a few blocks over 9 de Julio.  Monserrat is an old, and historically poor bario, the resident population being families that have lived and worked here for generations. The street is busy teaming with life from early morning ....to early morning.

We occupy the ground floor Eva Peron room, but by choice will move to the upstairs Carlos Gardel room after our hosts Vicki and Rob leave for the USA. The Gardel room has ensuite bathroom and small sitting area, with easy access to the office. A back staircase leads to the single Porteno room. Exit through the garden door and you reach the Garden apartment, connected to, but separate from the main house. Double sliding doors ensure lots of light, whilst the garden setting provides total peace. It is at the large table in the garden here that I sit and write. A breeze rattles the leaves of the banana tree whilst red geraniums and hydrangeas add splashes of colour to dense green foliage that reaches over twenty feet above my head.

In the bario just paces away fresh fruit abounds at the corner shop, whilst diagonally across is El Gigon, a superb perilla serving the most divine steaks. On the other corner a pizza shop, and but two blocks to Campo dei Fiori where outstanding fresh pasta is served under the ancient domed brick ceilings by equally ancient waiters who started here as boys.

But now for tango. Saturday night is the night of Los Consagrados.

Buenos Aires is a city of milongas - the location where tango dances are held. Of the more traditional is Los Consagrados in Humberto Primo 1462. Those assiduous readers of my blog will recall my blog entry from 2010 in which I described an exhibition here of tango from Lucia y Gerry

We depart in limpid air as dusk arrives. The entrance way is grand, with metres of marble leading to a majestic staircase. Above the romantic notes of Lucia Demare are muffled by heavy curtains, beyond which the salon extends longways through a mirrored hall. Tables are filling, but we are booked as Vicki and Rob's guests, so separate according to convention to sit at reserved tables opposite across the room.

As a new tanda starts, prospective dancers search across the room for the cabeceo and mirada - the code  to identify a partner. Stephanie accepts my cabeceo for the first dance, and I cross to her table. She rises. We enter the pista. It is Calo, a deliciously expressive tango. As new dancers on the floor we attract inspection. Seated dancers assess the level of our skills and experience to determine whether they too will accept our cabeceo and mirada in forthcoming tandas.

Whether as guests of Vicki and Rob - veterans of Los Consagrados- or because we have just passed the test of initial inspection, we dance most tandas for the next two hours. It is clear that 'the embrace' is key. Get it right, and tango is effortless. Get it wrong - the dance is tough like stringy steak. Here the Portenos - local dancers - are unforgiving. The embrace must be close, gentle but safe, flexible but clear, sensitive, intimate but respectful. It is the door to connection. And with connection comes the perfect tanda.

Satiated with tango for one night, and fresh to Buenos Aires, we leave to eat; our destination being a loved pizza cafe in San Telmo where we will be greeted with hugs. Outside the milonga, the bario shines and gulps of warm air from an evening breeze refresh our faces. We slip our dance shoes across our shoulders and stroll hand in hand. Yes, we have arrived in Buenos Aires.