Things are have not been the way they were. Or maybe I am not the way I was. "You are "en duelo" says Michael. I think about what he says. I guess I never thought I was in mourning, but I guess I am. In little ways. At night when I am out, I always look at my cell to see what time it is. I get this nagging feeling that I need to get home to walk Roxie. Or when I get out of bed I still find myself stepping around her, only there is no her.
I need to take my mind off of this. So I join the gym a couple of blocks down from my apartment. For the first time since I left California I am finding myself happy to be in the gym again - and 5 kilos lighter. I used to love the gym when I lived in Oakland. I belonged to this fancy place called Club One. It had to be one of the nicest gyms in the world. Now I am on the other end. I think they sent all the old used equipment from California to my gym here. I have no excuse to not go to the gym. So I just go. I like it.
This is a Barrio gym. I watch the ladies of 70 and 80 years of age come for the stretching classes. It is delightful. The first time I took this class I was the youngest one in the class, except for the two gay guys. This gym is friendly. There is no pretenses. Kind of like a Golds gym before they got fancy.
The other day I was waiting for the subte. There has been a bit more crime since inflation has gone crazy here. You have to pay more attention. I usually do. It is the 6th sense one develops from city living. I sat down on the bench to wait. Something told me that day to leave the Ipod at home. Not sure why, but I did.
I notice a suspicious looking character. A young man, sort of sleazy is checking me out, but not in the way a young man usually checks out a woman. Besides it is almost 80 degrees outside and he has a jacket slung over his arm. I keep my eye on him.
Soon he is joined by a friend. Most Argentine men kiss when they meet. These guys go into conference. Who taught these guys how to be scam artists? They are standing about 30 feet from me. They both look at me. A bag lady sits down next to me. She reaches into her bag and pulls out a wash cloth and begins to wash her face. When she does this she looks at Dumb and Dumber across the aisle. I swear, sometimes I feel like I live in a made for TV movie.
She turns to me. "Una consulta. On which side is the street Pasco?" she asks. I just love it. This is how they figure out if you are a tourist. Keeping my eye on Dumb and Dumber who are stupidly starring at us while I half turn to bag lady I tell her, "You can't get to Pasco from these trains. You need to take that train to Catedral and then change to the A." I wonder what kind of a scam they want to try and pull on me. I hope not the mustard scam because I am wearing all black and I would have to kill them.
She wasn't ready for the correct information coming out with my accent. So she decides to argue with me. "No" she says to me. "I can get off at Puerrydon and walk 2 blocks to Pasco?" I give her a disgusted look, get up and tell her "Catedral, y subte A." I walk away from her. She nervously looks up to Dumb and Dumber.
When I turn around, Bag Lady is gone. So are Dumb and Dumber. The train comes. I get on and stand at the door. I realize Dumber is on the train with me. He is looking at me. These guys are really stupid. He is standing right next to me. So I move across to the other door and stare at him. This unnerves him. I look him straight in the eye. I give him my Oaktown "Don't you be messing with me stare."
I am not sure what he thinks he is going to steal from me. Maybe my Halls fuerte candies. I continue to stare at him. He was not prepared for this. The subte stops at Scalabrini. The door opens. He sticks his head out. He is looking for someone to signal. He sees them. He brings his head back in. Idiot. I continue to stare at him. I give him the Brown connection stare. Guaranteed to peel wallpaper off walls. He's lucky he never met my mother. Then he would really be scared.
He was not prepared for this. I am sure he figured he would either get my purse or my cell phone. He was not prepared to have me stare him down. Now I am making him uneasy. I never once break my stare. He says something to me. I can't make it out so I glare at him. The subte stops at Aguero. He gives me one last look. He gets off, and gets on at the next door, walks into the next train. Hopefully to find someone much easier than me.
I am dancing again. Mostly in the afternoons. For awhile there were not many people in the milongas. There still aren't really. Not like before. Tourism is down. I guess in a world crisis, dancing tango is not a priority. At home, people just don't have the money to go out all the time. In the Argentine crisis people danced. That was because the milongas were only 6 pesos. How come in the world crisis they are 15?
My friend Marcelo just got back from touring Europe. He is a folkloric dancer. He was gone 4 months. He got sticker shock when he came back. He could not believe how much prices went up in the short time he was gone. Welcome home.
The high prices are keeping people off the streets. Maybe not all of them. Now that the world is in crisis I wonder what that will do to tourism here. All those overbuilt hotels, restaurants. Worst of all those horrible tower apartments. The sad thing is they are still building more. Go on boys! Knock down those beautiful old buildings. Put up those ugly tower apartments no one is buying. Can you spell F I R E S A L E?
I seem to be fighting with more taxi drivers these days. Less fares. They hear the accent. They go how they want. I fight with them all the way. The last guy even had the nerve to say to me "You live here?" and when I told him yes. He actually apologized and turned the meter off. Of course I had already told him I was not going to pay him any more than 16 pesos and we were already at 18.
Argentines who fled the country in for greener pastures abroad are now sending their money back home. Failing banks in the U.S. and Europe have them scared. For all the rhetoric about Argentina, here we are. Stable. Except we still don't have enough change for the bus.
Life is good here. I have few complaints. I miss my girl. I know though. It is only a matter of time. A pit bull somewhere is being born with her soul. And we will find each other.
Enjoyed the bit about waiting for the train. Wish I could have been there.
Posted by: Jose Chung | October 21, 2008 at 04:07 PM
I HAVE MISSED YOUR BLOGGING BUT I FIGURED YOU WERE SAD ABOUT YOUR LOSS.
THINGS WILL IMROVE.
GARY
Posted by: GARY A | October 14, 2008 at 09:56 PM
I know what you mean about taxi drivers right now. They just do not want to go the route that I tell them anymore, which never happened much before. Instead, of course, they want to go their way, and "accidentally" run in to one of Macri's city works projects. Likely story.
Anyway, just wanted to add my moan about taxi drivers. The bad thing is, now I am already starting out "mala onda" as soon as I get in a cab, and then occasionally when I get a nice taxi driver I feel terrible...
Posted by: Alan Patrick | October 14, 2008 at 06:34 PM
I can't decide if you live in a sit-com or a drama...
And I know exactly how much you miss your pup.
Posted by: Johanna | October 14, 2008 at 04:08 PM