November 6, 2015
Out Of The City
In 1869 we make politics. The words of Lousiana, the city walking tour guide. It was decided to make Argentina European and so, encourage immigration from Europe. And suddenly hordes of Italians, Spanish and Germans, came to Buenos Aires, with the promise of good wages and a better life. Most however, lived in crowded, insanitary accommodation, more than one family would sleep per room in "conventos" a house with an archway leading in off the street to a central yard closed in by colonades with rooms on two levels, in the district. of St Telmo, south of Plaza de Mayo, and the port district, La Boca, further south.
Disease was rife. In the 1870s yellow fever arrived with a ship and thousands died. Those that could effort to, moved north of Plaza de Mayo, to the greener-wealthier districts of Palermo and Belgrano. They left behind much of their belongings, old furniture and the likes they'd brought from Europe. And the people left behind started selling it, so St Telmo soon became known for it's a street market. Today, the area has a gentrified and bohemian feel to it. The street market continues on Sundays. It is also falling down with antique shops, aladdin caves of old beer signs, postcards, cameras, gramaphones, vinyl and just about every household object dating back to the early 1900s.
"This was a mess" Lousiana throws up her arms in hopelessness, to stress the point. "As many as twenty people in one room. They had what they called hot beds, as they slept in shifts: once one would wake up and vacate the bed, the bed would immediately be occupied by the next tired body. Often, people sharing the same room didn't share a common language. It was a confused mess."
Occupying the river side of the plaza, is the presidential palace, called "Casa Rosada" because of its pink colour. Built on the site of the original fort, built by Spanish conquistadors in the sixteen century, to fend themselves against hostile Indians. There is the story of how it came to be pink. Apparently, it was common in the nineteenth century to paint houses in Argentina this colour, by mixing cow blood and cheap white paint; and so, the new presidential palace was painted likewise.
Our tour ends at three o'clock, back where it began, in Plaza de Mayo: the city's main square where people come to demonstrate, mainly against the government. Today, and every thursday afternoon rain or shine, it is the white scarfed mothers of the disappeared. Lousiana relates the story. Argentina had been ruled by militery dictatorships before, but the military after the coup in March 1976, was extremely brutal. The military were at war against urban terrorists and so started a campaign of kidnap, torture and disappearing people with the flimsiest suspicion of subversive activity. The mothers of those picked up and never seen again began a protest movement. And each week they walk in the Plaza de Mayo, in hope for the return of their loved ones. Most know their sons and daughter were murdered. But there is also the grandchildren. Many of those kidnapped were pregnant women, that gave birth in detention centres and the babies were given to be brought up by military families. And so, in recent times, many, now in their thirties have found the people they thought were their parents, aren't, and have come forward, suspecting their biological parents were disappeared.
Apart from the walking tour, I've been doing lots of walking otherwise, just walking and looking up at the architectural splendor of the houses. Buenos Aires is a young city. During the Spanish colonial era, it wouldn't have been more than an outpost fort with small town attached. The city as seen today is a wonder of late nineteenth and early twentieth century expansion, four story street houses with old fashion shops at ground level, iron railing balconies upstairs and corner turrets.
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