Tuvimos resaca the next day. Obvio. I met Emi at Starbucks around 6PM, which really turned my day around. Turns out ice-cold dulce de leche frappucinos are the perfect cure for resacas.
One thing to keep in mind: lines mean nothing in South America. I learned this to some extent in Chile, when picking up our will-call tickets…the best way to get to the front of the line is shove, push, or cut. Paloma and I, considering this crucial piece of information, refused to be walked over like naïve extranjeras. We butt our way into the entrance line (although we wouldn’t have minded staying in the street party for an hour more…), (humiliatingly) obviously cut the bathroom line, and pushed our way to the front of the bebida line. But there must be some sort of organization to this disarray; if everyone else is cutting/pushing/butting their way to the front, there must be SOME order, right?
Getting home was an ordeal in itself. As trains stop running at 2AM, we had to figure out where the colectivo picks up. Not really knowing where we were (nor in which direction we wanted to go), we just followed the masses of people in hopes that they knew where they were going. Lucky for us, they did. Not so lucky was the colectivo driver, who went from a completely empty colectivo to one completely packed with loud, intoxicated jovenes. But I mean, it was 5AM on a Saturday night, what did he expect?
On Sunday we attempted (key word: attempted) to go to the Boca Juniors v River Plate fútbol game…also known as the Superclásico. Paloma and I thought we were too naïve and, well, AMERICAN, to attend such a chaotic sporting event, so we found it more suitable to go with a group, which I will leave unnamed. Needless to say, this “organization” (quotation marks necessary) proved to be the greatest disaster of my time thus far in Argentina. Let me just give a concise play-by-play of our unsuccessful venture:
14.30hsWe leave in our transporte privado from the bar to the stadium. Granted, thirty minutes behind schedule, but we did not see this as a problem.
15hs: We arrive, and begin making vueltas around the cancha.
15.30hs: Still making vueltas.
15.45hs: We arrive at what we think is the right entrance, along with many, many other angry Boca fans. Mass gente, but we continue to wait. There is a line of policía blocking us from entering, supposedly because they are River fans.
15.50hs: Boca fans están hartos of waiting, so they casually begin a street riot. I wish I were exaggerating. They pushed over the police blockade and legitimately began storming towards the cancha. I had no idea where to go/what to do, nor did I have enough bodily strength/force to fight against the riot, so I was basically carried with the mass of people. The riot then casually ended with riot guns (I hope…) firing off, people seeking refuge, crying, etc. All of this happened in a matter of seconds that I had no time to appropriately react; I just ran with the crowd.
16hs: After all of that excitement, we were informed that Boca sobrevendió tickets to the game, thus we would not be able to get into the stadium. So, great.
16.10hs: We hear the kick-off whistle. Hearts are breaking all over La Boca.
17hs: After hopelessly haciendo vueltas around the cancha trying to find an entrance that would let us inside, we finally give up and find a park with a radio and choripan; almost the same thing. This actually turned out to be really fun, as we got to see what the común Boca fan did during games. Their excitement and energía was very contagious!
17.45hs: We begin to make our way back to McDonald’s, the designated meeting place for the transporte privado.
18hs: We arrive at McDonald's on time, but the bus isn't there yet. We wait.
18.30hs: Nothing.
19hs: Still nothing. A little fed up, I call the guy who organized this whole ordeal. He then informs me that he has returned to his house because “hubo demasiados problemas” but that the bus should be there soon.
20hs: NOTHING. At this point I’m starting to get a little angry, and I give he-who-shall-not-be-named a call. His only response to my telling him that the transportation had not arrived was: “ayyy, ¡qué problema!”
20.30hs: Two and a half hours have passed, so we have officially given up waiting for the transporte privado. That’s right; Paloma and I are stuck in La Boca. Alone. At night. With five pesos between the two of us. At this point panic should have start to set in, but we were too exhausted from our entire day of distress that we didn’t exactly grasp our dire need of transportation out of La Boca. We begin wandering the streets to hail a colectivo, but because of the game there were too many people so the colectivos hadn’t started running again. (A concept that to this day I’m not sure that I fully understand…but okay.) We’re positive that it would not be a good idea to walk a few blocks to an ATM to withdraw money (for obvious reasons…), so we wander between McDonald’s and the colectivo stop, unsure of what we should do next.
21hs: Even though we only have five pesos between the two of us, we give in and call a taxi. We would be able to get out of La Boca and stop at an ATM to get money at least, plus we had no other option.
21.30hs: Two taxis have already bailed, and we are running out of options. McDonald’s has to close sometime, and we are literally stranded.
22hs: Our last resort. Paloma’s cousin, Marcelo, lives in Palermo. We didn’t want to call him at first because he works and is busy most nights (and has a life), and because La Boca is basically on the other side of town from Palermo, but we had no other choice. He immediately came and got us, brought us back to his apartment, and gave us some vino to calm our nerves.
Yes, that all happened. An interesting experience and great story, however from now on I am going to plan my forthcoming pursuits on my own…without said “organization,” as they claim to be. (I prefer to use the term man-who-has-no-office-and-steals-plata-from-yankees.)
New favorite place: Club Cultural Matienzo. I went with Erika and Paloma on Thursday night. It is in Las Cañitas, very close to my house, and they have different local bands and artsy bands every night. It is three stories; first floor being the bar and live music, second floor a mini, local art gallery, and the top floor is an outdoor terrace with a bar where everyone hangs out after the show is over. After the show we went up to the terrace, where we met some Brazilians who taught me my first Portuguese word/phrase: filha da puta. (I’m going to go ahead and take the liberty of not translating that…)
Because our attempt to go to a fútbol game last week was such a fail, we decided that we had to try again this week and go to the River Plate v San Lorenzo game yesterday. It was a very rainy and feo day outside, but that did not discourage us! We met Christian in Plaza Armenia and wandered in the rain, searching for a lugar with promociones. (It was a sporting event, after all…) Fed met us there, and a few jarras later, we began to make our way to Ivan’s apartment in Nuñez, just a few blocks from Estadio Monumental Antonio Vespucio Liberti, the River Plate stadium. Fed dropped off his bag, and told us that we ought to leave our keys and monedas as well, for security might think that they could be used as weapons or thrown at one of the players.
Oh god, what have I gotten myself into?
I was told that Argentine fútbol games are unlike any other professional sporting events in the U.S., but I had no idea. There isn’t even a comparison; heading to la cancha is like being thrown in the middle of the Running of the Bulls in Pamplona. The fact that I am alive and in one piece, able to recall the energy, vigor, and zeal of the River Plate fans, is in itself miraculous. And just to think: this was a tranquilo game.
A few things about Argentine fútbol games: fans are ruthless, and testosterone is high. The authorities do anything and everything in their power to attempt clashes between the home team’s fans and the visiting team’s fans, however they can only do so much. There are separate routes designated for each group of fans, and there is a small area of the stadium where only visiting fans can sit. If you are not sitting in the visiting section, then you better be routing for the home team. No alcohol is sold inside the stadium, another attempt to keep fans calm and complaisant, but again, this is just an attempt. At the end of the game, the home fans are not allowed out of the stadium until all visiting fans have left the cancha; another effort to avoid street fighting. People have died at these games…just to put it into a little perspective.
En route to the stadium from Ivan’s apartment, the streets were blocked off and taken over by a sea of red. Flags flying, arms waving, men and little boys shouting the lyrics to one of the many passionate (albeit crass) River canciones. As we got closer to the stadium, you could feel the stomping and shouting coming from the populares section. It was clear that we were in River territory. The policía are well equipped for this chaos, with police on horseback, military vehicles, some bizarre looking weapons, and even crowd-control shields. They know what they’re in for.
I was speechless when we arrived in the stadium. And just to think that this was a tranquilo game. On the opposite side of the stadium from the populares section, you could still hear them screaming, feel them jumping, and see them waving their arms all over the place. Red and white balloons and shredded newspapers were thrown in the air as it came closer to kickoff. We were sitting right under the San Lorenzo fan section, but if you ask me, no one was even there. I didn’t hear a peep coming from their fan section, so either their lack of enthusiasm is shameful, or the craze coming from River was so overpowering that I could hear the fans across the stadium better than I could hear the pansies above me.
Tomorrow Paloma and I headed to the northwestern provincias of Jujuy and Salta, where we will (attempt to) immerse ourselves into their indigenous culture, become fluent in Quechua, and perhaps even ride a llama! (One can only hope…) I'm all packed (thanks Nina), so after my (self-determined) half day of school tomorrow, I'm off!
Chau,
audgentina.
PS HAPPPPPPPY 21ST BIRTHDAY IRENAAAAA I LOVEEE YOUU MY BABY GIRLLLLLL!
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