Chicos en la Calle

Today was another busy day. My instep and knee were bothering me all day from the run this morning, and it didn't help that we walked for hours this afternoon. After we left the apartment, we stopped on Florida Avenue, which is a huge pedestrian street which runs for at least a mile, totally lined with shops, cafes, etc. Vendors in the middle, beggers, black market money changers, everyone. This was actually where I bought a new little backpack the other day. I just wanted something small- big enough for a notebook, but small enough almost to forget I was wearing it. It's heavy canvas, so I'm planning on stitching a River Plate or Argentina soccer team patch on it. Anyway, we were hankering for a bit of Americana so we stopped in at a burger doodle for a big mac. It was interesting in that the prices were still on par with America- about three dollars for a combo meal. Here, that same amount can buy you a dozen empanadas, or at least a medium pizza. My fajitas at the Mexican restaurant were less than five dollars, just as a comparison.

Afterwards, we caught the subte to Constitution Station, the train station in San Telmo surrounded by the poorer Barrios. Not a great place to walk around alone if you're blatently American and toting a big camera. Actually, Aldo and I fit in very well here. My hair is longer now, I've got some local leather bracelets, and my shoes are finally getting that dirty street look that everyone's clothes seem to have here. My accent is still bad, so I don't answer when shifty people ask me for the time to gauge my nationality.

(Didn't mom have a dream about having to drag me off the streets down here?)

We walked around San Telmo the rest of the afternoon. It was a gorgeous day, warm, sunny with a slight breeze. Took a few pictures, made some notes, and took in the area surrounding the site. We made our way to La Boca, one of the poorer and more colorful barrios in the city. We avoided the empty street with all the street kids hanging around it, but we stopped to talk to one who was picking through garbage on his own.

We were stumped at first what we could ask him? Anything we said could be taken offensively, since the object of our interest - what does he do all day and where does he sleep at night, are directly related to his condition of living on the street. I mean, who the hell were we, rich American students, to be studying him? All these people want is recognition of thier humanity. Weve been told that they're there on thier own accord, because its worse where they're coming from.

Anyway, we started talking to him a little bit, in a horribly awkward conversation, made more awkward by the fact that he was picking through garbage while we talked to him. Apparently, we had grabbed a newbie- he'd only been on the street for three days. He looked about 16-18 years old. He told us that his mother had died of starvation, his father had been killed, and he was on the street because he tried to interfere with his stepfather beating his younger brother with a metal pipe and got three broken ribs as a result.

We gave him some money and thanked him for his time. What can you say to that?
It's one thing to hear it from a movie, or a book, or even from the director of the teen program that violence drives many kids to the streets. Its another thing to meet one of them and hear him talk about it.

Our new project is to map the site using various layers of the city and diagramming it. A lot of groups are studying and mapping the graffiti, ours and other group are working on sound, but you can reall slice it any way you want. It just seems odd, like there's some crucial disconnect, when you go from talking to one of the kids in the street to doing an analysis of sound pollution.
Anyway, we'll do more analysis tomorrow as a group and hopefully figure some more things out.
We walked back to Plaza Durrego for a beer and some sandwiches in the plaza in the late afternoon. A nice break for my aching feet. Got some gelato afterwards and walked back towards Puerto Madero, another much newer, trendy barrio right next door to the worst parts of San Telmo and La Boca. We actually stood under the freeway which seems to divide them and looked left to see the slum housing and weeds and right to see the shiny new modern apartmetns and manacured trees. Theres a fair down in Puerto Madero every saturday evening, lots of vendors selling antiques, junk, and a lot of native handcrafts. Theres a lot of Mate gourds, leather and hippie jewellery, and indiginious wool woven goods like hats, alpaca sweaters, etc. Aldo got a bag in the traditional Mexican style that he'd been looking for all day, kind of like a big square woven purse which is slung across the body and worn very low.

After hanging around there for awhile, we were both so exhausted we took a cab back to the metro station and came back to the apartment where we both passed out for about half an hour. Its got to be all the walking we're doing. That and the huge run this morning. Nothing happening tonight, saturday night. We're all wiped, plus a lot of people went out late for Brian's birthday last evening. I wonder where that kid we met is now?