I have to write a post about the elderly people here, los viejos.
They are awesome. There is huge respect for them. The best example I can give is on the buses. There is no question that when an elderly person gets on the bus, you get up and offer your seat...SIEMPRE (always). It gets to the point that one elderly person will off their seat to another and they bicker, not over trying to take the seat but insisting the other take it.
I know people in the states do this but it seems more prominent here. Maybe because they haven't all moved to Florida for the weather? Maybe because they use public transit more? Maybe I just didn't notice when I was home? Whatever the reason, I know I dig it and will definitely be bringing this back with me.
When I get lost and need directions, I usually turn to a vieja, since I figure it slightly lessens my chances of getting mugged. They are so helpful. Actually, the are too helpful. After giving me the directions, and I've said okay, gracias, entiendo, they just keep going. Telling me the same thing again, adding new things. It's really nice that they want to be sure I've got it but now I know to only ask if I really need the help or I've got 20 minutes to spare.
It's not just the viejos, they just exemplify it best, that show such a strong sense of respect. Almost everyone crosses themselves when passing a church; people on the street; your cab driver; people on the bus. You'll mainly see the elderly people do it but it's sweet when you see the young tattooed guy do it as well.
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
Friday, October 12, 2012
Este es el famoso River,
el famoso River Plate!
This past weekend I decided it was time to do one of the most important things in South American culture; I had to go to a futbol (soccer) game and cheer until my voice grew hoarse.
With my three yanqui (Yankee, aka American) amigas, we walked to the River stadium. The two major teams in Buenos Aires are the red, black and white River Plate and their rivals the yellow and blue Boca Juniors. These teams are such extreme rivals Boca asked CocaCola to not paint the label in the traditional red and white colors because they want absolutely no affiliation with River.
We made our way through the sea of fans in red, white, and black. Heads turned at the four American girls, not just because we stand out- we're used to that- but because we weren't decked head to toe in CARP (club atletico de River Plate- Athletic club of River Plate) gear. With no idea of how to buy our tickets, we asked one of the few families we saw. I usually turn to a mom or elderly lady for help when stuck about directions or the like. They told us to ask one of the seguridad (security), and by security I mean the massive guys in bullet proof vests, complete with riot helmets and batons.
I asked the guard where we should go to purchase tickets. He said they weren't any and we should turn to someone on the street. I figure if I can buy soccer tickets off a scalper, I can handle anything South America throws at me. We picked one scalper out of the sea of many, bought our tickets, and crossed our fingers they were real. With over half an hour to kill before the gates opened, we headed to the supermercado (supermarket) to buy some beer. The entire alcohol section of the store was roped off with tarps! We asked some guys if we could buy beer anywhere near by and they just laughed, saying nowhere near the stadium would be selling booze of any kind. Turns out these fans are so intense that drinking is prohibited to prevent riots and deaths. Needless to say, after learning this information we definitely needed some cervezas (beer). We booked it over to barrio chino (chinatown) and bought some liters.
With a little bit of liquid courage, we were ready to go. We walked through security and looked for where to go next. We stood in what we thought was the right line for our seat section. I noticed the line had a fair amount of women, children, and families which made me feel assured we wouldn't be dying in a riot. Except that wasn't our line. The line we were supposed to be in was entirely men between ages 16-45, mas o menos (more or less). The adrenaline was beginning to pump through my body a little bit faster now. After we got through this security line, which involved a thorough pat down that would put TSA to shame, we simply followed the masses since we had no idea where to go. After two more security lines and pat downs, we were finally in the stadium. There were three stairways we could choose to head up to the seats. A security guard saw us trying to decide which one we were supposed to go to and advised us to pick the one on the right. We shrugged our shoulders, sent our tickets through the machine- they were real!- and hiked up the stairs.
There isn't any assigned seating so we picked a spot smack in the middle and got ready for one of the best nights I've had in Argentina. While the other team was warming up, everyone was whistling which confused us at first but then we realized it's their version of booing. Unfortunately, none of us are particularly strong whistlers, but we sure as hell tried, despite how ridiculous we looked. When River came onto the field, it was like a bomb had exploded. Everyone was on their feet, a marching band started up in the section next to ours, the whole stadium started singing in unison, and people were bouncing and jumping. This wasn't just for the opening either. This continued for the entire game. I've decided that watching sports in the States is going to seem so lackluster and almost dull in comparison. We realized why we were recommended to take the stairs on the right. If we had gone up either of the other stairs, we would have been smack in the middle of what my friend dubbed "riot central". And if our tickets were for the other section, we would have been in the family zone which was a little less chaotic. Although we were completely winging it, it seemed to work out perfectly. We got to be in the middle of the excitement without the potential for dying.
Best part of the game was when River scored, and scored, and scored. Madness broke out for each goal. And there were five! River won 5-0. After the game was over, no one moved. We tried to leave but the exit was blocked. We couldn't figure out why until we noticed the other team's fan section was empty. Regardless of whether River wins or loses, the fans of the other team need a good head start to get out of the way of the River fans.
This was one of the BEST experiences I've had here, especially because it wasn't a touristy activity. Actually, it's recommended that tourists don't go because it gets so intense. I was proud that not only did we go but that we managed it successfully without knowing what we were getting into. It was great to do something only true locals do. You could feel the fans passion in the air. I like sipping a beer at a baseball game as much as the next guy, but I think I'd rather watch the game the Argentine way- drunk off excitement and emotion.
This past weekend I decided it was time to do one of the most important things in South American culture; I had to go to a futbol (soccer) game and cheer until my voice grew hoarse.
With my three yanqui (Yankee, aka American) amigas, we walked to the River stadium. The two major teams in Buenos Aires are the red, black and white River Plate and their rivals the yellow and blue Boca Juniors. These teams are such extreme rivals Boca asked CocaCola to not paint the label in the traditional red and white colors because they want absolutely no affiliation with River.
We made our way through the sea of fans in red, white, and black. Heads turned at the four American girls, not just because we stand out- we're used to that- but because we weren't decked head to toe in CARP (club atletico de River Plate- Athletic club of River Plate) gear. With no idea of how to buy our tickets, we asked one of the few families we saw. I usually turn to a mom or elderly lady for help when stuck about directions or the like. They told us to ask one of the seguridad (security), and by security I mean the massive guys in bullet proof vests, complete with riot helmets and batons.
I asked the guard where we should go to purchase tickets. He said they weren't any and we should turn to someone on the street. I figure if I can buy soccer tickets off a scalper, I can handle anything South America throws at me. We picked one scalper out of the sea of many, bought our tickets, and crossed our fingers they were real. With over half an hour to kill before the gates opened, we headed to the supermercado (supermarket) to buy some beer. The entire alcohol section of the store was roped off with tarps! We asked some guys if we could buy beer anywhere near by and they just laughed, saying nowhere near the stadium would be selling booze of any kind. Turns out these fans are so intense that drinking is prohibited to prevent riots and deaths. Needless to say, after learning this information we definitely needed some cervezas (beer). We booked it over to barrio chino (chinatown) and bought some liters.
With a little bit of liquid courage, we were ready to go. We walked through security and looked for where to go next. We stood in what we thought was the right line for our seat section. I noticed the line had a fair amount of women, children, and families which made me feel assured we wouldn't be dying in a riot. Except that wasn't our line. The line we were supposed to be in was entirely men between ages 16-45, mas o menos (more or less). The adrenaline was beginning to pump through my body a little bit faster now. After we got through this security line, which involved a thorough pat down that would put TSA to shame, we simply followed the masses since we had no idea where to go. After two more security lines and pat downs, we were finally in the stadium. There were three stairways we could choose to head up to the seats. A security guard saw us trying to decide which one we were supposed to go to and advised us to pick the one on the right. We shrugged our shoulders, sent our tickets through the machine- they were real!- and hiked up the stairs.
There isn't any assigned seating so we picked a spot smack in the middle and got ready for one of the best nights I've had in Argentina. While the other team was warming up, everyone was whistling which confused us at first but then we realized it's their version of booing. Unfortunately, none of us are particularly strong whistlers, but we sure as hell tried, despite how ridiculous we looked. When River came onto the field, it was like a bomb had exploded. Everyone was on their feet, a marching band started up in the section next to ours, the whole stadium started singing in unison, and people were bouncing and jumping. This wasn't just for the opening either. This continued for the entire game. I've decided that watching sports in the States is going to seem so lackluster and almost dull in comparison. We realized why we were recommended to take the stairs on the right. If we had gone up either of the other stairs, we would have been smack in the middle of what my friend dubbed "riot central". And if our tickets were for the other section, we would have been in the family zone which was a little less chaotic. Although we were completely winging it, it seemed to work out perfectly. We got to be in the middle of the excitement without the potential for dying.
Best part of the game was when River scored, and scored, and scored. Madness broke out for each goal. And there were five! River won 5-0. After the game was over, no one moved. We tried to leave but the exit was blocked. We couldn't figure out why until we noticed the other team's fan section was empty. Regardless of whether River wins or loses, the fans of the other team need a good head start to get out of the way of the River fans.
This was one of the BEST experiences I've had here, especially because it wasn't a touristy activity. Actually, it's recommended that tourists don't go because it gets so intense. I was proud that not only did we go but that we managed it successfully without knowing what we were getting into. It was great to do something only true locals do. You could feel the fans passion in the air. I like sipping a beer at a baseball game as much as the next guy, but I think I'd rather watch the game the Argentine way- drunk off excitement and emotion.
Sunday, October 7, 2012
No te olvido!
I haven't forgotten about my blog, te juro (I swear)! I've just been very busy DOING things that I haven't had a chance to write about them. Personally, I'm okay with making more experiences rather than writing about only a few but I'm going to spend the next week updating on those many great experiences I've had in the past month. Albeit, things will come a bit out of order but they will come! My first step is to upload hundreds of photos to my computer and sort through them so I can use some in my posts. Stay tuned for the updates!
Saludos! (cheers!)
Saludos! (cheers!)
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