As Jenny worked on her paper, I whipped out my trusty “To Do List: Daytime Activities” and planned my day. It was a bit chilly and overcast: a good day for a museum. I considered the Evita Museum, but as Frommer’s states, it is closed on Mondays. Could go to the MALBA (it’s only closed on Tuesdays,) but I’d rather wait for Annemarie to go with me, as I’d like to hear her artistic viewpoint. This reason also eliminates the Decorative Arts Museum. And Jenny would kill us if we went to Croque Madame, the restaurant that neighbors Decorative Arts, without her. But then again, I think that museum is closed on Mondays, too. Bellas Artes is far away and overwhelming. I’ve still got two stories to go after completing the bottom level. So, pretty much all museums are ruled out. I decide on the horse races. It’s free, the belle époque architecture is stunning, and the website lists there are races today at 1500 hs. Although the building is open every day, there are only races a few days of the week: Mondays, Fridays, Saturdays and the occasional Tuesday or Sunday. This is my chance to go. Everyone says they want to, but I’ve learned the way to get things done here is to do it yourself and/or go alone if you have to. So I figure I’ll scope it out for everyone else.
So I plot out my route over a peanut butter and jelly sandwich so I can arrive around 3:00 pm for the first race. Jenny says it wouldn’t be a bad walk but she’s crazy and it’s pretty cold outside. So I consult my subte guide and the Hipódromo website, and decide to take Línea D to Ministerio Carranza and walk along Dorrego to Avenida Libertador, where I hope to find the entrance to the races. I don’t end up leaving the apartment until about 3:00 pm anyway, and since the subte + walking route totals about 45 minutes; I make it in time for the third race. The place is stunning. The word fancy comes to mind. I decide I’m not going to bet so I opt not to purchase a program and instead try to soak in the beauty that is perhaps highlighted by such a cloudy day. I’m wearing jeans and Pumas with a top and black scarf, and whereas I don’t feel uncomfortably underdressed, I am by no means the sharpest dressed in attendance. The crowd is mainly older men in suits who look, if not retired, as if they ducked out of work early to make a quick buck at the races. Before they all place their bets there are a lot of numbers yelled into cell phones and lines at the ATM kiosks. I feel as if I am observing a sort of upscale Buenos Aires stock market, but for gamblers in nice suits. I only stay for two races (between each carrera is about a 45 minute wait for everyone to cash in their winnings and place new bets, which, if you are not betting, passes by slowly) but enjoy watching the men yell and scream at the horses as they approach the finish line. I decide it would be best to return with a larger group on a Sunday after Olsen Brunch. Hopefully that will include people who can explain the art of gambling to me. And since the next Sunday race is not until May 18, I’ll have plenty of time to read up on the horses and plan my bets accordingly. I decide to walk home via Bullrich to Palermo, since Dorrego is crumbly and literally on the wrong side of the tracks.
La Bomberia students show off what they'd learned before the main concert
Once home I have a few minutes to myself before Mark comes by to borrow some Mac software (his computer died) and we head to La Bomba de Tiempo. Honestly, a drum circle concert that describes itself as “trance-like” doesn’t seem up Mark’s alley, but I appreciate the company. Cici Williams had e-mailed me back about the Olsen/Horse Race idea (she and Will Stewart will be back in The States by then) but says she is planning on going to La Bomba tonight and invites me. I tell her I am glad she likes it enough to go two weeks in a row because I was planning on going tonight. So Mark and I walk over to Sarmiento 3131 (The Konex Theatre, which so happens to be where RENT is playing on other nights of the week) and wait in line for a bit while the amateurs take lessons from the performers. We watch a performance done by the students before Cici and Will arrive.
Meg, Cici, and Will at La Bomba de Tiempo
A video of La Bomba de Tiempo (from October.)
The concert is cool. It’s just a group of percussionists on stage, with the occasional guitar or horn instrument. I wish I had taken more pictures, but it was hard to capture. The place gets packed. And you can't really photograph a sound, now can you? I talk to a few Argentines, who try to set me up with their friend from Cordoba after I make awkward eye contact. I’m really not interested; I wonder if telling them I have tonsillitis will make them go away. I settle on pretending it is too loud to hear them. Cici jokes that wherever she is, people make a path next to her to get by. It’s true, half the time they cut between her and Will as they push their way through the crowd. We dance and laugh at the mullet sightings and super-sweet Mohawks. I’m also a fan of the white Rastafarians. Mark leaves after about an hour. The three of us continue to get shoved around so much that by the time we decide to leave, we have moved a good eight feet to the right and past two columns toward the back of the auditorium. Oh well, it makes it easier for us to escape the crowds as the performance ends.
I follow Will and Cici to Corrientes where we catch separate Radio Taxis home, and we make plans to hit up California Burrito Company’s Taco Tuesday with Gillea tomorrow night.
Oh, and a follow up on the building collapse on our block: there was a building under construction just catty-corner from our building. And the weird thing about construction here, since everything’s so close, they bulldoze right in the middle of things, often leaving a roof in tact. Well, it seems the roof collapsed, leaving one person in a coma and five others injured. It’s weird to think these are people I walk by on a daily basis. Keep them in your prayers.
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