Brash Blackberry #1
Alex and I were standing on a large stretch of concrete in the middle of Avenida 9 de Julio in Buenos Aires. It was only day two of our week in Argentina, and our night couldn’t have been any better. I could see the wind blowing lightly through Alex’s heavy red hair under the light of streetlamps, and the temperature must have been close to 65° F. The perfect weather for walking around a city you’ve never imagined seeing.
Earlier in the evening, we saw the Buenos Aires Symphony from the cheapest seats in the house. We didn’t give a fuck that we couldn’t see the conductor waving his wand. Our philosophy had always been, “It’s about the music, not the view.”
When we stepped out of the Teatro Colón, we went for some food at a local restaurant because we hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Nothing hits the spot like ice cream sundaes and empanadas after a wonderful orchestral performance.
When we finished, we opted to cross the Avenida 9 de Julio, widely considered one of the most dangerous streets in the world. There are eight lanes on each side, and the only safe time to cross is when the lights give you permission. We had to cross to get back to our hostel. When the light changed, it granted us its blessing, like a god looking over his servants. We crossed to the middle.
There we were, the literal middle of the road. I took in the few sights around me. On one side of the street, I could see the bright lights of two McDonalds’ stores and a Burger King, all reminders of American consumerism we couldn’t escape. The other side was dark and unfriendly, seemingly not welcome to the American visitors who wanted to enter in its abyss.
At this point, I became mesmerized by everything around me – the smells of burning meat, car smog clogging my lungs and burning my nostrils, stars in the sky, the lights of American businesses, and darkness hiding the impoverished parts of the city. I needed release, and I couldn’t take it any longer. I wanted to do something to express the conglomeration of feelings that swirled in front of my eyes and in my heart.
I stepped into the street. I was wearing black, a perfect target for icy Argentine man who never liked Americans in the first place. I could see the cars coming for me as I stood three lanes from the middle. I was alive again. I threw my camera to Alex who stood perplexed, worried and safe in the middle.
The moment was ripe for a picture. Me dodging cars on the most dangerous street I would ever be on. I was a pretentious American prick who didn’t know Spanish or how to cope with his emotions, but I didn’t care. Alex snapped two photos and told me to get my ass back to the middle. I followed his orders because I didn’t feel like dying yet - I was only 20 and still had more dangerous roads to find.
Out of all the days we had in Buenos Aires, I remember this night the best. Really, it was a simple night of fun, devoid of meaningless sex and alcohol – two things I grasp to too often. It surprises me to think that the most simplistic night there was the paramount evening of the trip. I once read, “It's the simple things in life that are the most extraordinary.” And if we really do remember the most extraordinary things, then my experience only tells him that this quote should command all the actions of my life.
Earlier in the evening, we saw the Buenos Aires Symphony from the cheapest seats in the house. We didn’t give a fuck that we couldn’t see the conductor waving his wand. Our philosophy had always been, “It’s about the music, not the view.”
When we stepped out of the Teatro Colón, we went for some food at a local restaurant because we hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Nothing hits the spot like ice cream sundaes and empanadas after a wonderful orchestral performance.
When we finished, we opted to cross the Avenida 9 de Julio, widely considered one of the most dangerous streets in the world. There are eight lanes on each side, and the only safe time to cross is when the lights give you permission. We had to cross to get back to our hostel. When the light changed, it granted us its blessing, like a god looking over his servants. We crossed to the middle.
There we were, the literal middle of the road. I took in the few sights around me. On one side of the street, I could see the bright lights of two McDonalds’ stores and a Burger King, all reminders of American consumerism we couldn’t escape. The other side was dark and unfriendly, seemingly not welcome to the American visitors who wanted to enter in its abyss.
At this point, I became mesmerized by everything around me – the smells of burning meat, car smog clogging my lungs and burning my nostrils, stars in the sky, the lights of American businesses, and darkness hiding the impoverished parts of the city. I needed release, and I couldn’t take it any longer. I wanted to do something to express the conglomeration of feelings that swirled in front of my eyes and in my heart.
I stepped into the street. I was wearing black, a perfect target for icy Argentine man who never liked Americans in the first place. I could see the cars coming for me as I stood three lanes from the middle. I was alive again. I threw my camera to Alex who stood perplexed, worried and safe in the middle.
The moment was ripe for a picture. Me dodging cars on the most dangerous street I would ever be on. I was a pretentious American prick who didn’t know Spanish or how to cope with his emotions, but I didn’t care. Alex snapped two photos and told me to get my ass back to the middle. I followed his orders because I didn’t feel like dying yet - I was only 20 and still had more dangerous roads to find.
Out of all the days we had in Buenos Aires, I remember this night the best. Really, it was a simple night of fun, devoid of meaningless sex and alcohol – two things I grasp to too often. It surprises me to think that the most simplistic night there was the paramount evening of the trip. I once read, “It's the simple things in life that are the most extraordinary.” And if we really do remember the most extraordinary things, then my experience only tells him that this quote should command all the actions of my life.
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