Pilgrimage

   Second day in Buenos Aires.  Slept in.  Grateful for the lack of jet lag.  The "manana" pace of this hemisphere is getting to me already.  Didn't really start going until the afternoon.  Then a long, long walk fromt he hotel over to the Boca Juniors Futbol  Club, called the "The Bombonera" or J.Alberto Armando Stadium.  Holds about 50,000.  Configuration is quite interesting, in that many high security fences and barbed wire strings hold various parts of the crowd away from each other.  I have heard that revolutions have started over the outcome of a Futbol match on this continent, so the divisions are no particular surprise. Much is done here at this particular stadium, to humiliate the opponent, from making their supporters walk under the most rabid of the hometown fans, to making the visiting jugadores (players) walk through a locker room entry door through which they must duck down.  A special section, entitled simply "12" -- and no, that is not the "12th Man" so famous in Seattle -- is where the hooligans are assigned.  I would like to think my soccer team (The Red Zingers) would take up residence there, were we visiting.  I know I would be assinged there.

Seems the team was started somewhere around 1910 by a couple ex-pat Italians.  In fact, Buenos Aires early in its history, was dominated by foreigners.  When the population reached 1 million, half of them were immigrants, and half of those were Italians (my Dad needs to know this).  The Italians got a little cocky about the situation, and started a revolution, declaring their secession from Argentina and allegiance to the King of Italy.  Revolution lasted one day.  It may have been the only bloodless revolution in history.  But it does explain why so much Italian is spoken here, and why so many neighborhoods are named after Italian communities.

Surprisingly few Buenos Aires citizens speak English.  Had a difficult time navigating my way back from the Stadium Tour and Museum, since I never backtrack and wanted a new route.  Plus wore the wrong shoes, so feet were raw.  Couldn't find a cash machine to save my life, and the banks were closed at 3 PM.  Didn't get that in my scouting report.

Met Jon and Charlotte again.  They generously treated me to a bottle of wine, which was much needed, at 7 PM.  We took the subway (reminds me very much of the Moscow subway, with market stalls lining the walkways and underground crossings), to an Armenian Restaurant called Sartis somewhere near the end of the line.  Jon got us lost several times.  Seems he can do everything EXCEPT route find.  I told him he should look for some Germans to ask.  They NEVER get lost.  Well, there were two exceptions about 130 years apart, on the way to Moscow...

Because I left my new Danish friends for a few minutes on the subway to listen to a folklorico guitar singer playing for coins in the aisle, Jon & Charlotte spoke Danish to each other momentarily.  Quite by coincidence, they were sitting next to another Dane, and she naturally recognized her fellow countrymen by their native tongue.  Meet Meriam !  She joined us for dinner, and seemed to enjoy the getting lost part much more than myself.  Dinner began about 11 PM, so wonderfully typical of warm weather Latin dining practices.  At Sartis, we had lamb, various Mediterranena dishes such as couscous and babakanoush, and a modified form of Greek Salad.  Best part, however, was a dish with no name that had slivered almonds, spring onions, garlic, couscous, olive oil, and tomato bits.  Absolutely one of the best appetizers I have ever eaten.  Night ended about 3 AM, after the requesite stop for gelato, and a parting of the ways as the four of us are each headed different directions tomorrow.  Me, to Montevideo (Uruguay), and Jon and Charlotte are taking a 20 hour bus ride over the Andes to Santiago (Chile).   I will miss them !

Next: Montevideo (Uruguay)