Entering 2012.....on a jetplane

I am about to board an airplane and celebrate the new year. A first time even for me.  I was really looking forward to this NY, even had everything planned, an amazing party in Rio de Janeiro, with bunch of friends. After so many horrible new year parties in the past 10 years, this was going to be a special one. BUT of course it isn't, and it is even worse this time, because I am all by myself---it could be different if I could be with someone, at least we could have fun---in an airplane. This is just gonna be a horrible night and I have to live with it. I heard that there is only 8 of us on board (on a second thought, this could mean more champagne for us, no? )

Yet another warm christmas.....

This is going to be my 10^th Christmas below the Ecuador line. I thought it would get easier over time. But I am still not used to the idea of decorating a palm tree instead of a pine. Call me old fashioned. I really don't care. For the infidels like me 24th of December is a celebration of good times, with good friends and it is a winter thing. I  guess you can this Turk out of the Northern hemisphere but can’t take the homey feeling of a real cold December out of her!

My home for the last 5 years, Paris of South America (a.k.a Buenos Aires), prepares for Christmas around November, as most cities do. Yet, for me, a lonely expat/agnostic international party girl,  aside from Jesus and Immaculate Conception scenes decorated here and there (not that I mind seeing them so much when it is contained in the house of God, but have issues with it in shopping malls and even inside public buses) it feels more like a pseudo-religious ceremony while getting ready for summer season. 

Comes November to this part of the continent, with the first sight of the sunlight, people flock to one among 100s of  parks around town to get a tan,  kids skip school, newly acquired pair of breasts (approx 20 thousand women get fake tits a year in this town) eagerly demonstrated in skimpy tank tops, yuppy narcisistic portenos hit the gym to built last minute six packs, etc. But by far the worst part of being an outsider witness to this hype,  those who have neither a family or enough money to escape Baires’ excruciating heat at this period,  is to see that most businesses around town start placing “we will be closed from December 24^th to January 15^th” signs on their front door.

 

The backdrop of celebrating Christmas in Buenos Aires, aside from not being able to eat good food, drink and be merry with friends and family, is having to be stuck in a city that totally shuts down as soon as the clock hits 12 pm on 24^{th ---} and does not come back to life until approximately end of February.  

I was lucky enough to escape this torture for the first couple of years in this country (I did not have a regular job, and I went to Uruguay). But since I do have professional obligations for the last 2 years, after starving during 2010, this year, in order to survive the week after the 25^th, I decided to stock up on groceries as I’d do before a hurricane, download as many movies I can (internet and electricity is not at all reliable during this period of time), and hope I will be invited to a house far enough from the city (and I can go with my dog Vinicius) or that the Christmas will go away fast!

Playlist# ? (Happy Morning Songs)

Weezer: Island in the Sun
Feist : 1234
The Doors: People are Strange
The Cure: Love cats
Audio BullysL: I'm In Love
The Avalanches: Since I Left You
Aretha Franklin: I Say A Little Prayer For You
Barry Louis Polisar (Juno Soundtrack) : All I Want Is You
The Vampire Weekend: Everywhere
Softcell: Tainted Love (Full mix)
Prince: Raspberry Beret
George Michael:  Flawless
Nil Karaibrahimgil: Hakkinda her seyi bilmek istiyorum (sekerli versiyon)

Bife de chorizo for lunch, Boca game in the afternoon..then a milonga. A day does not get more porteno than this!

Boca Juniors always plays on Sundays.  In old days, before television, teams from all divisions played  their games on sunday afternoon, at 3:30 pm, conveniently planned after a big asado lunch. Eating meat (possibly killed and gutted on the spot, then barbecued for hours over booze) and watching football are two of the most important and simbolic caracteristics of an argentine man. Since tournments are being televised the tradition of going to the stadiums every sunday afternoon faded away, first because the network started to change the game schedule to different hours for programming purposes, and second, spectators gotten lazy, and just watched their game on  television instead of actually going to a stadium. Yet Boca, kept playing almost always on a Sunday afternoon---you have to accept that football is a billion dollar industry, and not just a stupid passion anymore.

This past Sunday was my first weekend off from work in a long time. Since my TV show kicked off, I have to go to a football game every week, whether I enjoy it or not---You football fans,  don't hate me, it is just a job. I recognize how lucky I am but sometimes going to a game every weekend gets boring too-- and i miss lazy sundays, asados, and pool parties.  Even though I did not have to work, this sunday I really wanted to go to this specific game as my team (Racing)  was going to play against this season's leader and Argentina's biggest team, Boca Jrs. I pulled some strings (press always gets in) and managed to score 2 entries for myself and my friend, a dear journalist, an adventurer, who I thought was worth inviting, as he'd enjoy this urban jungle, a game that so many will sell their kidney in order to get in.

After our carnivorous upscale picnic in the Costanera Sur, we hit the road towards Boca's infamous stadium, also known as La Bombonera (the candy store). 5 block radius to there the roads were blocked as usual. I remembered my first Argentine game experience there merely 4 years ago. My best argentine friend, my  kanka, a devout Boca fan, Gonzalo took me with him to experience football, not knowing I'd become a Racing fan years later. The game we went was against Independiente--Racing's biggest rival. Back then I did not care much of the game and the teams but I was mesmerized with the passion of both parties and the stadium the shook. Bombonera is famous for this. It shakes as if Buenos Aires is having a 6.0 earthquake as  hinchas jump and sang. I had flashbacks to 1999, all the way to my hometown, the earthquake prone Istanbul. It was amazing to feel how the stadium vibrated while Boca players scored goals. After the initial shock, I cheered with Gonza as if I was cheering for my beloved Galatasaray. Did not care so much about anything else.

While Mark and I anxiously walk to get our press passes, and after a year of being around millions of fans around South America, the side streets that lead to the stadium felt very uneasy. A couple of weeks ago Argentina's biggest team's barra brava (they are known as la 12, the 12th player, also the best organized hooligans in the world) came to a turning point as the "old boss" Rafael diliceo was released from his 3-year old prison sentence and was back in the streets of the 'hood again. He made it public that he was out to get his kingdom back from once-upo-a-time his number 2, Mauro, who ratted him. The streets of Boca neighborhood felt very uneasy because people were expecting a big fight, and cops were nowhere to be found. We could feel the drugged infused testosterone of Mauro's gang hanging around, and hoping that we would not have to experience the infamous violence associated with argentine football on first hand.

Luckily we entered to the glorius Bombonera,  packed to the limit, without a problem. My 5inch heeled feet hurt from walking so fast but the ice cold coca cola and a ciggy at the press tribune helped to ease me to enjoy my first stadium experience as a civilian. I was a world away from my peeps (the Racing fancs), as we had to sat very next to cracked up "12" tribune, but it did not matter. I felt almost as I was in Ali Sami Yen (GS's stadium). I was biting my nails, talking to myself in turkish, cursing the referee for his bias decisions and dying to jump up as "the one who does not jump, is a Brit".

The game ended in a tie even though Racing ended up with 9 players at the second half. Boca fans will argue that it was meant to be because football is a big business and noone would like a championship 3 weeks into the end of the tournament. I'd say they are full of shit. As I left the stadium to take a bus to get to my next portena date, a milonga with Susana, a milonguera and a portena at heart, I felt, maybe for the first time, that I belonged to Bs As.

Yes, I am finally learning to dance tango. I became a loyal carnivore. I am watching a football game every weekend. I guess my dear friend Daniel is right; I am more of a portena than "maradona. even my bitching about this city is such a give away!"

Abian's poem...

Asli

Olhos ocidentais com magia oriental.

Sorriso de menina, com ares leoa.

Algo indecifrável, porém simples de estar.

Uma forma de dizer sem falar.

Encantamento.

Pôr do sol pelo mundo.

Arrebatamento.

Em corações cariocas vagabundos

É como se a vida não tivesse seus momentos de chatice.

São manhãs a beira do mar.

Tardes na mesa bar.

Vida a bailar.

São esses olhos.

Que fisgam e cativam.

Que de certa forma prometem sem falar.

Uma incontestável alegria na forma de viver.

Uma marcante presença.

Doce e aerada.

Forte e engajada.

Tal como todos os gols de bicicleta já feitos.

Uma estranha, já plena brasileira.

Cáucasa.

Tal como o Ararat,

Misteriosa e hipnótica.

Gringa Carioquinha.

Formosa e delicada.

Quase um infarto,

Quase uma parada.

É a divisão do ocidente oriente mais verde amarela que existe.

Finding a place in the world..que beleza

Tristeza não tem fim
Felicidade sim

A felicidade é como a pluma
Que o vento vai levando pelo ar
Voa tão leve
Mas tem a vida breve
Precisa que haja vento sem parar

A felicidade do pobre parece
A grande ilusão do carnaval
A gente trabalha o ano inteiro
Por um momento de sonho
Pra fazer a fantasia
De rei ou de pirata ou jardineira
Pra tudo se acabar na quarta-feira

Tristeza não tem fim
Felicidade sim

A felicidade é como a gota
De orvalho numa pétala de flor
Brilha tranqüila
Depois de leve oscila
E cai como uma lágrima de amor

A felicidade é uma coisa boa
E tão delicada também
Tem flores e amores
De todas as cores
Tem ninhos de passarinhos
Tudo de bom ela tem

I always believed in believing in one's gut feeling. The first impression. After 5 years, going back and forth, weighing options in hand, working, surviving and possibly finally getting where one once thought she'd get, I will be leaving Buenos Aires for a while to live in Cidade Maravilhosa. 

I will never forget how amazed and at the same time felt so much like home in a place that I did not speak it's language. My first 2 visits were during carnaval, so even though coming back from there was painful (and it was necessary) I'd keep saying to myself that I had to see this amazing city without carnaval before making a decision. After 3 consecutive work related trips and learning quite a bit about the country and its people, I made up my mind about giving it a try. I even decided on a tentative moving date, making myself mentally ready for it and learning portuguese. 

Those who follow this blog since the beginning might wonder after so long why I finally decided on writing again. Aside from having a full-time job since January of 2008, I was not at all inspired to write anything. Believe me it is a sad sad situation for a writer. How many times I sat in front of my computer, logged on to the blog and start typing about something, yet never even managed to type an amazing experience I was having. And boy, I had many! (I am hoping that all those unedited entries will be finished, now that I am BACK!) I cannot complain at all, last couple of years were amazing. I traveled massively, meet incredible people, worked in interesting projects, ate great food...enjoyed the process. I just could not write about them. Call it a "writer's block". Call it lazy. Call it whatever you want. It has been very hard for me. 

It is nice to be back..and listening to samba all the time..here is one that I am apasionada for...

E é por ela ser assim tão delicada

Que eu trato dela sempre muito bem

Tristeza não tem fim
Felicidade sim

A minha felicidade está sonhando
Nos olhos da minha namorada
É como esta noite, passando, passando
Em busca da madrugada
Falem baixo, por favor
Pra que ela acorde alegre com o dia
Oferecendo beijos de amor

Lunchtime classics @ el Bajo

El "Bajo" or the tiny little trapeze shaped mini-neighborhood sandwiched between posh Recoletta palaces and dodgy downtown office buildings has been my home for the last (almost) 3 years. Time goes by fast when you have fun, I guess.