In the streets

30 April

‘Woke up very gradually this morning. Snug under the duvet in my chilly room, I dreamed I was being lulled to sleep in a couchette by the rhythm and the rumble of the train. There was an explosion and my eyes opened to the familiar painting in my room in San Telmo. I sat up and overwhelmed by the throbbing of drums, peered through the triffid growing at my window and saw baterías in their colours trooping along Independencia through dense crowds, flags and banners held aloft, puffs of smoke in the air. Of course! It had to be the Mayday International Workers’ Day rally, but I had not expected that to take place until the first of May, which isn’t till tomorrow. I live on Independencia, on the corner with 9 de julio, where it's all at, so could participate from out of my bedroom, if I were so inclined. It was pretty impressive. Did I say was? This is six hours on and it’s still going strong… the drumming, the explosions, the music. I haven’t left home yet but I feel as though I’ve been marching all day.

Apparently the Peronist-led General Confederation of Labour (CGT) are holding this massive rally. Over a hundred thousand people are taking part. Some say it is to show their support of the President’s programs of production, work and jobs; others assure me it is a show of strength and solidarity on the part of the unions. Porteños don’t generally come across as establishmentarian, so no prizes for guessing the real reason.

2 May

Whilst this is an extreme example of people reclaiming the streets of Buenos Aires, there is always more going on in the streets than mere traffic. I have already mentioned the samba batería that claims Defensa, every weekend and public holiday and fills it with the ba-ba-bada- ba-ba-ba - bada of its tambourínes, the king-king-korong- ki-rong-kong-kong of the agogo bells, the shaka-shaka of the ganza, the babám! babúm! babám! babúm! of the surdo… It is bad, glad, mad and is one of the many reasons I love living right here.

There is a growing movement in the form of street parties, which aims to challenge the government’s scaremongering tactics to keep people off the streets. I went to two last week, which went on till around 01:00: one of them was a flamenco party at the end of Carlos Calvo furthest from 9 de julio and the other, a tango party in Humahuaca. The people of the barrio came together to party, joined by enthusiasts from all over to enjoy the music, dance, atmosphere, coloured lights, bunting, bands playing, barbecues, stalls selling home-cooked food and drink and artisanal wares.

If you are a fan of the flea market, Buenos Aires has hundreds of street markets and fares, particularly at the weekend. My favourite of these is the Fería de Mataderos, which is a long way from the centre but well worth the hike: there is a farmers’ market, food stalls, bric a brac and antiques, tango and folkloric dance shows in addition to stalls selling wonderful, handmade goods.

The corner of Independencia with Peru smells of piss as I pass around 04:00 most nights, on my way home from milongas, but there is a very wide section of pavement just there, edged with flower beds and a graffiti wall which announces ‘Ping pong is played here between 14:00 and 21:00 at the weekend.’ And indeed it is. A table materializes and youths reclaim that stretch of pavement for a few hours of frenetic fun. It is quite an institution and whoever thought it up deserves a medal or perhaps something a little more useful.

Here in San Telmo you do not see as many dog walkers as you do in Recoleta or Palermo, where I previously lived, but there are dogs here, alright, and they leave their mark.

The streets are alive all night long. There is a café on Independencia, a few blocks from mine, where people go to round off their night. I’ve been there at 05:00 and most of the tables on the pavement have been full. I wonder whether they ever close at all. Trasnochando and Buenos Aires are synonyms, for some. But for others, the street is the bosom of the bitch called Buenos Aires on which they lay their weary heads.

To all demonstrating, drumming, dancing, partying, playing ping-pong, pooping, shopping, sitting, sipping, sleeping in the streets:

Good night Buenos Aires, sweet dreams...