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27Apr
Categories: photos Comments: 0
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28Aug
Categories: General, Music Comments: 0
It’s not hard to figure out where you are once you enter the old abandoned Harrod’s building on Florida Street. The word “TANGO”, in simple all-caps helvetica, is plastered everywhere to announce the 2009 Tengo Festival. It’s two weeks of tango music, tango dancing, tango clothes. Tango worship.
I went the other night to check out a couple electro-tango bands, Otros Aires and Narcotango. I missed most of the former, but I caught up with my friend Jessica and we scored 2nd row seats for Narcotango. The show was good, with interesting video footage projected behind the band. The music was pretty chill, hence the “narc” name. Where’s my vicodin? Electro-tango is a Gotan Project kind of sound, which is as “electronica” as one can get while still incorporating an accordian into the mix.[Gotan Project - Notas] mp3
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23Aug
Categories: Design Comments: 0
I’m not the most fashionable guy, but I enjoy an occasional episode of Project Runway. BA Fashion Week happens twice a year, once per season. (Are there four seasons of fashion or just two?) Anyway, the coming season here is Spring and BAFweek is the place to see all the new clothes, and the beautiful people looking at all the new clothes. Most of the experience of BAFweek is waiting in long lines which meander around advertising kiosks, waiting to get into the runway shows. The one runway show I saw was by Cora Groppo, a designer from Buenos Aires, who presented her vision of spring with a lot of beige fabric and skinny models with wet hair. The part of the show that I enjoyed most was the music that accompanied the clothes, a live violinist and a drummer playing along with some ambient techno. It was a good time.
{Andrew Bird – Imitosis Four-Tet Remix} mp3
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04Aug
Categories: Art Comments: 0
There’s always something cool/fun/trendy to do in Buenos Aires. Brett told me about the Urban Art Festival, so I was excited because I love the street art here. Some very talented kids live in this city, and the graffiti is more art than property damage.
I checked out the fest with Crystal on Saturday, and went back again on Sunday with more friends. We saw lots of cool art, a little breakdancing, interesting people watching. There were films (We saw part of one about Banksy where he goes to dinner at Joan Crawford’s house), a skateboarding competition, DJ’s, etc. On Sunday night a band finished off the festivites, called Él Mató a un Policía Motorizado (He killed a bike-cop). And they were pretty good.Oh, and I also met a guy with home-made pants that told me about a good place to get my hair cut. So all in all it was a good time.
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23Jul
Categories: General Comments: 2
The other day I was in Plaza de Mayo, where the President’s house is located. A famous and central meeting place for Argentine’s with a gripe, mother’s of missing children parade there on Thursdays. Any day in this city, a casual traveler can stumble upon a group of angry banner-toting protesters crossing their path.
Bagels are hard to come by here, but I had found a little place that sells them in San Telmo. So I bought one (with Lox, even!) and took it to the plaza for lunch. An old man in tweed and an old man hat sat himself next to me, crossed his legs and hoarsely muttered something.
“Aye, cha cha.”
Was he talking to ME? … What did it mean? Was this old man griping about his failing health? Maybe his bones hurt him as he bent down to plop himself on the concrete bench.
A few minutes went by, and I started to eat my bagel…
“Aye, Cha Cha” he pined…
It made me really curious. Maybe he used to be a famous dancer in his younger years, and in his onsetting senility he sits and waits for his fame, decades too late for Dancing With the Stars. But wait, they dance tango here, Not the Cha-Cha!
Some protesters a block away sounded a blowhorn.
“Aye, Cha Cha” again.
Was he showing support for the crowd of Peronistas moving along the street ahead of us? I read no references to any “Cha Cha” on their banners. The old man folded down his blue knit glove at the wrist to look at the time on his watch.
“Aye, Cha Cha.”
OK, maybe he’s waiting for someone named Cha Cha? But would she really exist? I was trying to pace out my bagel, eating it very slowly, in wait for Miss Cha Cha. A daughter? A lover? I imagined her showing up, well-dressed like the old man himself. Maybe ready for a night out on the town with elbow-long red gloves.
“Aye, Cha Cha” he said again.
Clearly he’s crazy. But I liked imagining him and fancy Lady Cha Cha meeting up to go to an Opera matinee, then maybe for Champagne in a fancy hotel lobby bar. The man unfolded and refolded his legs, I finished my bagel and went on my way.
