Some final (perhaps!) comments on BS. AS.

La Casa Rosada, being re-rosada-ed.

(With a little rainbow as a bonus!)

A flower shop on Aveneida Santa Fe

that I passed every day.

At my subte stop near the school

the fellow in white is handing out hand bills to passers-by.

I don´t want to leave Buenos Aires (which is abreviated "BS. AS." here) without making a few final comments. And I reserve the rights to add MORE "final" (finaler?) comments in the future. But as I prepare to pack-up and leave, these things occurred to me as interesting, and insightful.

First, La Casa Rosada, the office of the Executive Branch of the Argentine government. The president and his or her staff (they´ve had presidents of both sexes) work here, but the president resides in another part of the city.

"Why pink?!" you might ask. Good question. Many decades ago, to show unity across party lines and to resolve conflict among different political groups, the presidential palace was painted pink, the combination of red and white, the colors of the two major policital parties at the time. They currently are restoring and re-painting the exterior of La Casa Rosada, and I was disappointed to be unable to get a clear picture of its front. The back is finished already, and looks beautiful! See the upper-most, central balcony? That´s the place from which Eva Duarte de Perón made her famous, "I can´t accept your nomination to the vice-presidency" speech, after which she fell into her husband´s arms, weeping -- the inspiration of Andrew Lloyd Webber´s "Don´t Cry for Me, Argentina." By the by, I´ve heard a records of Evita´s speeches, and I think it´s a safe conclusion to make that we should ALL be happy that there are not recordings of her singing!

Second, the flower stand. Rather an odd picture to include, I guess, but I have so enjoyed them. They are all over the city, lining the major streets and avenues. Even more frequent are news stands with newspapers and magazines (more magazines than papers), and even shops selling inscense (that´s right -- whole shops dedicated to inscense). To walk along the streets is not only colorful and interesting to the eyes, but it often smells good, too! Mind you, watch out for the "landmines" left behind by the city´s countless dogs. Where else is there for them to "go" other than on the city sidewalks and streets? In fact, when you walk early in the morning, men and women are out all along the street, washing-down the sidewalks. At first I thought, "How odd that they´re wasting so much water." But within minutes I realized precisely why water, and why so much of it. Everybody sweeps the trash and dirt into the cutters and pushes it close to the corners. City employees come by with waste-bins on carts (like in the old Rockey and Bullwinkle Show cartoons) and pick-up the refuse and take it away.

Finally, hand-bills. The above picture isn´t my best photo of this, but I wanted to show you my subte entrance, too (how sentimental is that?!?!) On my first day I noticed many, many people handing out hand-bills. They´re all over the place -- on corners, in the middle of the block, in front of entrances to stores, in plazas (parks), you name it. And the small hand-bills (about 3"x5" usuallly) are advertisements ranging broadly from fine restaurants to sex shops, from banks to theatres, and from apartments for sale to drug stores.

For several days I refused the hand-bills with a simple gesture of my hand, or simply by passing by as if I didn´t notice the distributor´s out-stretched hand. But then the topic came up in a conversation session in class. One of the class members was asking her about a line, in fine print, that is included in each hand-bill. In essence it says, "It is illegal to hand-out hand-bills in city sidewalks." The student commented, "What´s up with that? It says right there that it is illegal, yet everybody does it!" She first said, "They have to print that on the hand-bills. It´s the law." To which the student asked, "But isn´t it illegal to hand them out?" "Oh," she commented. "That´s not so clear." Then I commented that I simply refuse the hand-bills, and she challenged me. "Why refuse them? It is a small favor. These people are paid per piece of paper handed out, not per hour. What does it hurt to accept the paper from them so they can earn a living?"

From then on, I have accepted everthing anybody has tried to hand me. And each and every time, the person says, "Thank you!"

This internet cafe is about to close, so off I go. Tomorrow, Chilé!

Much love to you, dear friends and family. Mucho amor.

-- Bill