San Terephthalate

Buenos Aires, Argentina
17-18 December 2008

Buenos Aires is misnamed. The heat here in summer hangs heavy, and the aires are humid and not very bueno. I’m not very good in the heat, and this is my second summer this year (I traveled in Europe, Israel and Iceland in the Northern Hemisphere summer of 2008.) It feels like it wants to rain, but it never does while I’m here. I hear stories from other travelers about how the streets in the central part of B.A. run deep with water during heavy rainfalls. Individual shops have concrete thresholds at their doors to stem the water that rises to their steps. I wish that was happening now.

My usual travel style in a big city is to walk, walk. In spite of the heat and air, I walk a lot in B.A. I walk the central neighborhoods of Recoleta, Microcentro, the federal government district, La Boca, Puerto Madero and San Telmo. I learn to use the subway, but not the buses. It just looks too hot on those buses.

I follow some day time guide-book tours. Famous public buildings like the Casa Rosada (presidential “residence”) and the Teatro Colon are closed for renovations. A local tourist pamphlet tells me that B.A. is trying to get ready for a big anniversary celebration in 2010. I walk the famous Calle Florida shopping district. It is tacky, tacky.

I see that even rich parts of B.A. are filled with trash, trash. But the trash collectors are a wonder to behold, and so welcome. They drive your typical trash trucks, but they don’t have standard containers. Bags and boxes are piled on the sidewalks and curbs. The athletic-looking trash collectors grab them however they can and fling them into the trucks with relish. It reminds me of the Seattle Pike Place Market, but instead of large fishes, it’s big piles of garbage. The shout out to each other, carrying on conversations on the street, while they muscle the refuse around. It’s over in a flash, and everyone on the street smiles a little with relief.

Between the misnaming of Buenos Aires, and the trash problem the city has, I saw the need to rename the city. During one walk, I settled on “San Terephthalate.” You see, San Terephthalate is the patron saint of discarded green PET plastic soda bottles. It is possible to see the offerings that the proud citizens of San Terephthalate leave for their city’s spiritual guardian at curbsides, street corners, subways, really almost anywhere.

As I run out of good tourist districtions, my thoughts in these quiet times by myself tend to the philosophical, and I realize that this is really what I came here for: to get myself in a frame of mind, and to devote time to figuring things out in my life, and to work on revising how I think about love, and loss, and meaning. Slowly, I welcome being in a town I don’t like very much, seeing the value in the time that I’m here by myself.