Bronsen Lee, Adopted Argentine, Shares Tips

El Atroz Encanto del Ser Argentino (“Putativo”)*  

The Awful Charm of Being an (Adopted) Argentine - *with apologies to a real author 

At the risk of offending many, I was asked to offer a light-hearted take on a few of the lesser-known reasons (besides butter-steak, Malbec wine, tango, and Evita) that Buenos Aires is every bit as interesting as you have imagined. 

I lived in Buenos Aires during 2001 with an Argentine family in the neighborhood of Nunez, not far from the national football (a.k.a. “soccer”) stadium. I took an intensive Master in International Economic Policy/Trade at Universidad de Belgrano, taught English to the Director of Accounting at a paper supply company (think Dunder-Mifflin), took sailing lessons on the Rio de la Plata, and learned Portuguese at Universidad de Buenos Aires.  I lived through one of the worst economic crises in recent history, with unemployment well above 20%, exchange controls, marches in the streets, multiple governments over several weeks, and currency devaluation. 

I also ate meat.  An awful lot of meat.  Enough that my doctor told me I needed to take a break when I returned to the U.S. for the sake of my blood pressure despite being in overall better physical shape than I’d been before or since.  It sort of corrected itself; good thing I don’t get to eat Pampas grass-fed steak every day in the U.S.  Put this in perspective: steak in Argentina is as common as chicken in many other places.  I don’t think in the 10 years since I’ve eaten as much meat as I did in one year in Argentina.  I also experienced: 

• Burning bleachers: A Superclassico is an epic battle between THE two opposing football (a.k.a. “soccer”) teams from the two opposite sides of the city, along The River.  Team Boca (of Diego Maradona fame) comes from the gritty working class neighborhood, clothed in blue.  Team River is the uptown team, clothed in red.  (For the record, I have no dog in the fight, since my Argentine host family technically rooted for Newell’s Old Boys from up in Rosario.)  Should you go to a game, be careful what you wear (purple?) and be prepared for the upper bleachers to be set on fire.  No joke.  They have high-powered hoses to spray up there at the end of the games. Or during, if fans get too rowdy…  They always do. 
• Gauchoism: This is an extension of the much clichéd Latin machismo.  City-Gaucho involves the casual use of lunfardo, the growth of a mullet, the casual wearing of alpargatas (think Tom’s shoes), the drinking of mate, and the more than casual drinking of Quilmes beer. Of course, as with SUVs and pickup trucks in suburban Atlanta (there’s redneck and then there’s Redneck), a lot of the city kids just play country.  Real gauchos try to avoid Buenos Aires and stay in the Province(s).  However, the meat is genuine, and so, they say, is the Tango…   
• Havana: Not the capital of Cuba, the alfajores…  Chocolate.  Dulce de leche.  Low-fat? Yum. 
• Matecito:  Ah, Mate… a truly wonderful thing.  Bitter you say?  (And you sugar and swill up how much coffee?) Mate will keep you alert without the jitters.  When you see a thermos and a little gourd with a silver straw, you are in the presence of the yerba that keeps on giving until the hot water runs out.  It is a social thing, to be passed among friends.  If you get the chance, don’t turn it down. And don’t say “thanks” until you are really done.   
• Paseoperros:  These urban dog jockeys walk 8-15 dogs at once.  It sounds chaotic, but they all fall right in with the pack.  However, the ritziest parks and sidewalks in town are marked, pun intended, by some serious landmines.  You’ll know you’re a real Porteño when you make it home from a day on the streets without a puppy treat on your shoe soles. You eventually develop a sixth sense for other people’s trails of regret so as not to go down the same paths… 
• Portions-of-Cow you never knew existed:  Skip the salivary glands and tongue, but try the blood sausage.  
• Purees…even if you do like meat:  butternut squashes, potatoes, pumpkin… need I say more? 
• Single-cheek social kissing: Americans - step it up.  Europeans - tone it down. The Argentines only do the peck on one side.  It is not an actual kiss, but a brief cheek-to-cheek.  Yes, guys do it too.  After you’ve met someone once, in a social situation, you do the kiss…it just happens.  It makes leaving dinner parties with about 20 people a great fun ordeal, as you have to go around the whole room before you can walk out.  

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