Cruise Day 2: Montevideo, Uruguay

NOTE:  We're now in Valparaiso, Chile.  But I have about 15 or so blogs from our cruise, so I'm going to post these a few per day, in chronological order.  I'll try to remember to add this note so that people know to go back a few days. 

2 February 2020

We’re currently on a cruise, and have just pulled out of the port of Montevideo, Uruguay.  Montevideo is practically right across the Rio Plata from Buenos Aires, and it’s only a several hour trip by the local boat.  But cruises are about slower travel and full days in port, so our ship left Buenos Aires yesterday evening, and “arrived” in Montevideo this morning.

I opted to just wander around the city a bit, making in a slow Sunday visit.  Montevideo is an interesting city, built with architecture similar to Buenos Aires, but the old city isn’t kept up as well.  So the gorgeous old buildings with ornate balconies and decorative trim are beginning to be a bit run down, while the former businesses in this area have moved to brand new shiny high rises in the newer section of the city. 

But the old city is in walking distance of the port and docks, so that was where I wandered.  Many cruise ship guests were on tours or the hop-on-hop-off buses, so town wasn’t too terribly crowded.

I know I haven’t talked much about the history of Argentina, but most of North, South, Central, Meso, and Caribbean Americas have the same sort of history:  indigenous people once lived there.  Europeans explorers-conquistadors-colonists came somewhere in the 15^th-16^th centuries and killed off some of the indigenous peoples, took the land and natural resources, and established colonies in the name of their monarchs.  Wars back and forth, wars with the indigenous populations, land grabs and land trades and eventually treaties – and at some point, the national borders were drawn and the countries eventually gained independence.  In the Caribbean, there are a number of islands that are considered territories of various other nations, but for the most part the former colonies are all separate nations.

So, Uruguay speaks Spanish the way people do in Argentina.  The flags both feature a sun that looks vaguely like a compass rose, with light blue stripes.  And people seem to visit back and forth, very easily.

But Uruguay is a very small country, among the smallest in South America, and it’s sort of squished between Brazil to the north and Argentina to the west and south across the river.  Uruguay almost looks like an afterthought.

Not that I want to give this country a complex.  They have beautiful beaches and a relaxed vibe.  It’s a nice little country.

Uruguay and Argentina also share a penchant for alfajores.  This is a sweet treat, and alfajores (plural of alfajore) is pronounced al-fah-HOR-esz.  Alfajores are made with two plain cookies, sometimes chocolate and sometimes vanilla.  Then dulce de leche is sandwiched between the two cookies.  Usually, the whole thing is dipped in either white or dark chocolate, but sometimes it’s left uncovered.  There are artisanal alfajores shops all around, and every supermarket to mini mart sells a variety of alfajores.  Because everyone has their personal preference.  Not being a big fan of alfajores, I prefer the chocolate cookie with dark chocolate couverture, and then I put the alfajore in the freezer.  Yup, freeze that dulce de leche nice and solid, so it turns into more of a solid caramel consistency.  They actually are pretty tasty this way.  I’ve tried alfajores straight from the store, and the dulce de leche tends to be too soft for my taste.

This particular alfajore shop had great paintings outside, though, so I had to take a couple of photos.

I wandered up and down the pedestrian street, which seems to feature artisans markets and eateries.  As always, I found interesting buildings with beautiful doors, or maybe stark white houses with vibrant bougainvillea growing outside. 

One thing I noticed, and of course had to photograph, were the mini mosaics filling in for missing sidewalk tiles.  They weren’t pictorial or anything – more like mini random works of abstract art, where scrap tile was used to fill in the space where a larger concrete tile broke or came out.  I suspect these started out as mostly utilitarian, to prevent falls and lawsuits, or maybe to keep mosquitoes from breeding in puddles that would form in the space.  But they’ve become little pieces of art, and I thought they were just lovely.

There was also an interesting café that was quite crowded, and seemed very popular.  I didn’t eat there, but they had a hallway covered in colorful flyers or notices.  The English and Spanish don’t necessarily make sense, but all together they make an interesting sort of wall of urban art.  It was just a fun kind of wall, and I spent a few minutes reading the signs, and ended up taking a couple of photos.

I started finding tile walls that matched the scrap tile in the sidewalk, so of course had to immortalize that too.

There was a lovely fruit market, complete with ropes of garlic, hanging peppers, a few flags, and crates of fruit, all creating their own little mosaic on the sidewalk.

There were a couple of murals I encountered.  The first was next to an apartment building, and I’m not sure what it means.  The woman is covered in fruits and vegs.  Is she Primavera?  Springtime?  Maybe Mother Earth, with all of the produce?  Or is she promoting eating more healthy foods?  Maybe becoming vegan?  I have no idea, but it was an interesting mural, especially against that blue blue sky. 

The second mural was also interesting – one young woman’s face was superimposed over a series of young women who had linking arms, but their faces weren’t included.  They were obviously nameless and faceless, and the whole thing was painted in muted colors with sort of grey overtones.  It made me really curious, so after taking several photos I started walking down the street but found a woman walking toward me, in an apron, so I asked if she was from Montevideo.  Si, yes, she was.  So I asked if she knew the mural at the corner.  Yes, she did.  And I asked what was the mural about, with all these young women.  Sadly, the answer was that they represent the young women who have been killed, who have been murdered.  This mural is their memorial.  I didn’t know if there was a specific incident, if murder of women is on the rise, or exactly what happened that inspired this mural – my Spanish isn’t that good, and this woman was in the middle of her work day.  But it kind of makes sense that they would be nameless and faceless, because as we know around the world, too many women are murdered, and these women could be anybody.  They could be any of us.  They could be ALL of us.  So yes, this was a sad and sobering mural. 

After that mural, I needed cheering up.  I found a woman walking down up the street holding a tiny orange striped kitten, and I asked about him.  In our combined Spanglish, I learned that yes, he was a boy cat, she found him three days ago, and his name was Tony.  So I pet little Tony on his head, and he nuzzled into my hand, and the world didn’t seem quite as bleak as the mural felt.

That was about it.  I chatted with a few people on the street, and eventually made my way back to the ship.  It was a warm day, and I try to avoid buying more plastic water bottles constantly – so I made sure to come back to the ship for lunch and lots of cold water.  I know, on St. Thomas we used to laugh about the cruise ship tourists who had to get back to their ships for lunch.  But, ah well.  Now I understand.  Though my excuse, should anyone ask, is that our time to be back on board was 3 PM, so I didn’t want to miss that.

We’re now heading out the Rio Plata, and will head southward.  The captain said the seas are fairly calm, so it should be a nice day at sea until our next port.

 

Don’t Cry For Me, Buenos Aires

NOTE:  We're now in Valparaiso, Chile.  But I have about 15 or so blogs from our cruise, so I'm going to post these a few per day.  I'll try to remember to add this note so that people know to go back a few days.
 

1 February 2020

Cruise Day 1: Buenos Aires

Our first day on our cruise, which we boarded in Buenos Aires, is, indeed, a day in Buenos Aires.  (I find this quite funny.). Having just spent five weeks in this vibrant city, we opted to enjoy the ship.

So I’m sitting in a lovely lounge, plugged into one of the few outlets around, with a nice cup of tea and a view of the Rio Plata, the Plate River.  I’ve heard that the Spanish named it that because it is a calm river, and tends to look more silvery than blue – so they named it for silver plate, or plata.

Anyway, I have more photos of Buenos Aires, and a few more not so adventurous stories.

We spent one afternoon looking for eye drops for Richard.  One specific brand, which it turned out is not easy to find.  But he had searched online, and thought he found one of the few pharmacies in the city that carried this.

Of course, as often happens with google searches, buildings are sold and businesses move.  So the address we were looking for turned out to no longer be the pharmacy, and was instead what was a rather nice café.

But, serendipitously for me, there was a fabulous news kiosk right in front that was covered in wonderful fileteado painting!!!  Really gorgeous!!!

So I stood out there in the drizzly rain, taking photos of this beautiful newspaper kiosk that was closed, which made it easier to see all of the images.

Now, let me jump forward a tiny bit.  There’s good art, great art, mediocre art, and really bad art, in all art forms.  Whether it’s in music, dance, theatre, movies, literature, or visual art, sometimes the artist or performer is having a bad day.  Or sometimes the artist/performer isn’t as skilled as someone else.  Maybe they’re at the student level, or an apprentice, or perhaps more intermediate.  For whatever reason, art can range from bad to masterpiece – and that isn’t a subjective opinion, but really an objective look at all art forms.

Well, a few blocks up from the wonderful fileteado kiosk I found a not great fileteado kiosk.  Maybe worse than not great – not terrible, but definitely not good.  The artist may have been a student, or just starting out in painting fileteado.  As my tour guide Georgina said, sometimes the owner doesn’t want to pay for a really good fileteadore, so they basically get what they pay for – not good painting.  In fact, pretty bad painting.  I mean, yes, I’ve painted for a while – but my first fileteado was light years better than the painting on this kiosk.  And better than some of the signs I’ve seen.

So, when we look at a bad example of fileteado, we can compare that to see how really amazing really good fileteado can be.

Back to the really wonderful kiosk.  Both of the ends had the same design, the curling acanthus leaves, a bandoneón (little accordian used in tango music), three flowers, and at the top, a bow that mimics the Argentinian flag.  Very obviously all about the culture of Buenos Aires, where tango as well as fileteado were both born.

But see those thin lines around the acanthus leaves, on both sides and inbetween the two leaves?  That’s the part that, to me, looks like the path of tango dancers.  Maybe.  Also maybe not, but to me, I think that might be part of what people mean when they say that fileteado is related to tango.

The front of the kiosk, though, is really wonderful, and where all the action is.  (And notice that the graffiti is on the metal top, above the painting?  Yeah, I’m thinking that the taggers respect good fileteado, and so they didn’t paint over it.)

More acanthus leaves creating frames, more flags, more curls and swirls and curlicues that look like French horn vines.  Add in a few more flowers, a bird or two, and, oddly, a dragon.  No one knows why dragons have become symbols often used in fileteado, but they just are.  Perhaps they were the emblem of the original young painters from Italy, depending on what town or city they came from – many Italian towns have neighborhoods with different animal symbols as their emblem, left over from the medieval days of heraldry and coats of arms.  Or maybe Asian immigrants painted fileteado, someone added a dragon, and it caught on.  At any rate, as fileteado grew and became popular, dragons became a common part of the design.

The central part is, of course, the tango dancers.  The two dancers are set on a yellow panel, which really draws attention to this as the centerpiece of the composition.  Our tango dancers are framed by the Argentinian flag on the left, and El Obelisco (the Obelisk) to the right – just to make sure we know that Buenos Aires, Argentina, is the home of tango.

The painting really is a good representation of the dance, with the man tightly clasping the woman to guide her through the sequences, while the woman leans slightly into him so she can balance as she adds kicks and swirls with her foot. 

Over in the lower left corner, there’s a red rose with writing underneath.  It says “Por Mama,” for Mama.  The artist added this little personal tribute to his mother, for whatever reason.

On the lower right corner of the brown acanthus leaf frame, the artist (or artists?) included the signature, with a very tiny self-portrait.  It looks like a father and daughter, so maybe it’s a small tribute to his daughter.  I thought that was very sweet, to have this little personalization.

And, for whatever reason, there’s a bird in the upper right corner, enjoying some floral nectar.  Birds are also a common symbol in fileteado, and art in general.  They often represent freedom, though in religious paintings they represent the Holy Ghost.  Though those birds are usually white doves, and I’m guessing this might be a green hummingbird – so freedom is a more likely meaning.

Anyway, I really enjoyed this kiosk, and just had to share it.  If anyone wants to find it, it’s on the corner of Avenida de Mayo and Santiago de ­­­­­­­Estero.

I could see in the distance that the Congress building was there, so I walked on up and took some photos – the whole park and building is referred to as Plaza de Congreso.  It was still a little drizzly, so the views are a bit grey, but it’s a nice building with the usual dome that seems to be on Congress buildings everywhere. 

I really liked the gold-painting lights though – especially against the green trees and grey skies.

 

Wandering back to our hotel, I found a great mural.  Couldn’t quite get all of it in one photo, but basically, the mural is about the people who were “disappeared” in the 1970s and 80s.  Over 30,000 people, some activists and political protestors, some not, some just family members, were rounded up and taken away by the military.  No one knows exactly what happened to these people, although most people at this point in time assume that they were executed.  These are the people, or their descendants, who The Grandmothers are still looking for, and these are the people for whom The Grandmothers hold a weekly vigil and protest at the Plaza de Mayo.

The mural was painted in 2017, and in the center it says that it has been 40 years.  “Ni Olvido, Ni Perdon” means “Never Forget, Never Forgive.”  I’m not sure if the caricature of the man is supposed to be Macri, the current president of Argentina.  He’s reaching out toward The Grandmothers on the left, who wear their symbolic white head scarves, as they raise their larger, stronger, and militant fists in protest.  Between that tiny man and the huge and strong women, it says “Macri, for the hand” or, likely more accurately, “Macri, by the hand.”  (My Spanish isn’t great, and idioms are always difficult.) 

I’m thinking maybe the artists are saying that the situation is now in the hands of the current government, and it’s his turn to do something about this massive human rights violation and atrocity.  Not to continue to sanitize the history by ignoring it, but to release records, or hold an investigation, or at least help these Grandmothers find out what happened to their children and reunite them with any grandchildren.  Many of the children of the disappeared were taken by the military as well, and were given to other families for adoption.  These children are using DNA to find who their real relatives are, and about 300 have been reunited with their birth relatives.  But no one knows for sure how many children were taken, nor where they are.  The Grandmothers are still searching, and until all of the information is released and the disappeared are accounted for, The Grandmothers will continue to protest and hold vigils.

It’s a powerful and emotional mural, public art at its best.  Educating and informing the public, calling for answers, strong imagery, few words.  Uses the images and symbols of the movement, history, and South American culture.  (Check out that very Incan or Mayan sun.)  A reminder of a lost generation, or even two.  Really evokes emotion from the viewer, and makes people stop and think.  Asks questions, demands answers.

The signature block includes a few names, and includes the Fileteadores des Conurbano – maybe the name of a Fileteadore association?  Of the urban city? 

I’m starting to think that fileteadores are rather political and even militant artists, that modern artists here may have taken this traditional art form and are looking for ways to make it more political.  This mural is one example.  But in the history of fileteado, during the early 1970s, right around the time the disappearances began, the government tried to ban fileteado on vehicles.  The painting began on carts, but eventually moved on to public vehicles like city and regional buses.  The government in the 70s felt that this was confusing people, so they enacted a law to ban fileteado painting on all vehicles.  The city was in an uproar, with people taking to the streets in protest.  Along with everything else they were protesting, which led to the disappearances.  The government eventually backed down on the fileteado ban, but it seems as if there’s an almost tacit understanding that fileteado is the art of the protest movement, even though it now has become more mainstream and even given UNESCO World Heritage Intangible Heritage of Humanity status.  Not positive about this, just sort of a sense that fileteado is part of the ongoing protest against totalitarian governments, sort of an in-your-face subtle protest.

I kind of like being part of this, if I’m right!

I also walked by Palacio Barolo, another city landmark.  The Palacio is a huge Art Deco building topped by a lighthouse!  It really is huge, and some people say its design was based on Dante’s “Divine Comedy,” the trip through the Hell, Purgatory, and onward to Heaven or Paradise.  I don’t know, I don’t really see it.  Visually, it’s massive and heavy and ponderous, missing all the airy lightness of the Art Nouveau buildings in the city.  But, I wanted to see it, I did, and I don’t think I’d have missed anything if I had skipped it.  (They do have tours, included night tours, so that might give more information if someone wants to know more about it.)

 

More and more fileteado signs kept appearing in view, and of course I had to take photos of all of them, no matter how small.  The Tercer Acto, a bar/café with a small theatre, had some gorgeous fileteado paintings inside.  The man working inside (owner?  Manager?  Waiter?) said it was okay for me to take photos.  One came out fine, the other blurry – but they were very detailed, especially for the small size.  I have no idea who the two men are in the portraits, and we don’t have wifi on the cruise – but hey, cool painting, right?

One of the tango shoe stores near our hotel had a wonderful fileteado framed window, and another had fileteado painted awnings.  As I said, now that I know what it is, fileteado seems to be everywhere in this city!

All in all, we had a great five weeks in Buenos Aires.  I learned about (and how to paint) an art style that was new to me and unique to this city and region.  We had nice weather and plenty of walking.  We both learned more about Argentinian culture and history, and we improved our Spanish a bit.  We celebrated New Year’s Eve, saw several national monuments, and ate good food, including the famous Argentinian beef.  We relaxed, and we had fun.

And now, we’re on our ship and off to a new adventure!