On some days, Buenos Aires is the Atlantis of Latin America. Most of it was built in the ages before storm drains were popular; as a result, when it rains, the streets become moats that surround the blocks and guard them from my approaching steps. Tuesday was one of those days, and I spent it leaping over these moats, trying (unsuccessfully) to avoid water in my boots at the same time as I avoided the deluge pouring forth from the sky. It has thus become clear that I need not only bigger boots, but also a gondola for traversing the canals.
In other news, internet access in Buenos Aires is slow, unreliable and sporadic at best. Yesterday I went to an e-cafe in the evening in an attempt to upload some pictures, and halfway through the power went out. I sat in the dark for about 15 minutes speaking in broken spanish to a middle-aged woman who was there with her 13-year old daughter. The daughter, after learning that me and Eric were americans, tried practicing her English with Eric, and I tried to talk politics with her mom. The political experience of most of the people from her generation is striking: having watched their economy be plundered by international bankers and executives, she saw the government as little more than a hood robin state stealing from the public. I asked her if she thought there were other counter-forces in Argentina and she professed her faith in the intellectuals of this fair city, hopefully either a force of change in some form or another.
But then again, my Spanish still sucks so I probably missed a lot that she said....
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