You know when the best thing I can say about a place is that the graffiti is extraordinary, then I'm either having a bad day, the place is gray, or the graffiti really IS splendido. It was the most colorful thing I saw in San Telmo, but then I went on a gray, rainy day when few people were on the street, and I took new transportation routes. The mission was bound to fail. On top of my mood and the rain, the sushi restaurant I'd hoped to find was not longer there - operation el busto. Nonetheless, I can't say enough about the graffiti! I will go back because there is meant to be a terrific market and some funky rooftops and crumbling buildings - stuff I usually go for - but today was just not my day.
It started late because I was determined to lay low and get some grading done, so I puttered, read the NY Times online, did emails, chatted on Skype to my neighbors at home who are about to take off for two weeks in Africa. I noticed that the decor in my "apartment" has all the nuances of the alphabet; I've got an Edgar Degas print of horses on one wall, and on the other is a Salvador Dali print of a girl looking out a window - basically her tail.. Hmmm, maybe THIS is why the graffiti spoke to me so strongly. When I finally left here, it began to rain, so I nipped into the HUGE market called Abasto in a big art deco building. There I noticed signs for movies, but I mean a long LIST of movies, so I followed my nose and found the ticket counter; I figured the rain would stop, I'd get some Spanish under my belt, and I could rest my still painful feet. In my flawless Spanish, I asked the 12 year old boy behind me in line, and he nodded at my choice, a movie title that sounded familiar from looking at the signs when I was in Belgrano. I asked him what it was about, and he spoke some English, but his mother, who spoke no English, grabbed her son's arm and gestured that they were together and then there was another person. We both nodded, understanding that this was some kind of love triangle.
After buying the ticket, I had to take an escalator up another flight to the biggest array of theaters I've ever seen, a carpeted hall of rushing sound and Spanish titles so vast that it made me dizzy. We had assigned seats, but damn if I could find mine, so I just sat on the end of a row and settled into chewing my apple as quietly as I could; I mean there were about 3 other people in the whole enormous theater. In BA we don't have previews. The movie just seems to start. As this one began, I thought it must be a preview, but it kept going like a bad dream. I fidgetted and wondered whether I should just leave. It was the same move I'd seen two days ago. Oh, well, I figured there must be a message here somewhere and stretched out in my seat to watch for the second time He's Just Not That into You, and all I can say is that the next time I go to see a movie with "Sentiento" or something in the title, I will KNOW that I've already seen it. And then some..
Oh, and then there were the melons... After my escapade in San Telmo, I walked back to my neighborhood and stopped at the SUPER Mercato where I noticed gorgeous honeydew melons on sale for $2.79 pesos. I calculated that was less than a dollar each, so I got two. When I checked out, the nice young woman asked me Spanish questions and I just shook my head, so she called over a young boy, gave him the melons and hustled me to the side so she could take care of other customers. Oh, I realized, the guy has to weigh the melons. Shit. This must mean they are going to cost a fortune, and they did - about $4 each. I slid a knife into one of them as soon as I got home and almost ate half of it because it was SO sweet and succulent that it was TDF! Just remember to weigh your melons whenever you come to BA...
I will leave you with two more graffiti photos, and if these aren't as exquisite as I believe they are, I'll eat my hat, as the saying goes; who EVER thought up that one? This is a close-up...
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