Political violence in Argentina paints an unsettling scene

Argentine politics are either so complicated, controversial or seemingly unreal that I have shied away from commentating on the matter. If politics are a quagmire for ordinary Argentines, then I stand little chance of making sense of it. Except when the front-page story talks about fraud, political violence and police repression. 

   

On Sunday, people in Tucumán province went to the polls to elect a new governor. In contention were the Peronist, Front for Victory candidate Juan Manzur (the incumbent party representative and former Secretary of State) and José Cano, from the opposition Radical Civic Union (UCR) party.

Provisional results showed that Mazur has won the elections with 54.4% of the vote, compared with 40.8% for Cano.

Tension and violence 

However, by Tuesday it emerged that the elections had been fraught with tension and violence. Policemen were injured, shots were fired and it turns out that more than 40 ballot boxes had been burned. One ballot box contained 30 FPV ballots even before voting had started. Meanwhile, a cameraman was attacked for filming food bags being delivered in exchange for votes.

Yesterday, national newspapers carried headlines and pictures showing police heavy-handedly breaking up a peaceful protest against the allegedly fraudulent elections. 

Protestors were confronted with tear gas and rubber bullets, leading to several injuries.

Manzur was quick to claim victory. Cano, on the other hand, has demanded that the ballot boxes be opened and the votes fully recounted.

"Not fraud"

As a bystander, it is unnerving to be living in a country where processes and the rule of law are simply disregarded. Even the national electoral director said yesterday in the national newspaper La Nacion that “burning ballot boxes is not fraud, but another type of crime”. 

Argentines do not take this at face value; they have a long tradition of protesting and are often seen banging their saucepans, as judged by the anti-government protests in 2012. However, it is a worrying sign when protests, especially peaceful ones, and free speech begin to be forcefully repressed.

The final vote counting started yesterday at 6pm local time. One can only hope this is a not a precursor of what could happen in the Presidential elections in October. Argentine politics seem to have become a whole lot messier.  

Tango BA: I stand converted

The annual Tango BA and Festival and Dance World Cup is back in Buenos Aires for the seventh year running. Love it or hate it, it’s certainly an expressive, if not impressive dance form. In my six months in BA, I had yet to step foot in a milonga, a place or event where tango is danced, so what better time or place.

Tango BA at Usina del Arte

Amazingly, most, if not all, of the events in the designated venues are free. The Festival started last Friday, 14^th August, and will culminate in the Dance-Floor Tango and Stage Tango Finals on 26^th and 27^th August respectively.

After watching some impromptu tango in San Telmo's ubiquitous Plaza Dorrego, we headed to Usina del Arte (The Arts Factory), in La Boca. The Usina makes a befitting venue, standing proudly on the side of the motorway, beyond the villas, as you approach from Quilmes to Capital.

Modern and cool 

From the inside, the Usina is a modern, cool building that is worth a visit in itself. It was built to mark the area’s industrial strength. This “Palace of Light” was designed by an Italian architect, Giovanni Chiogna, with Neo-Renaissance and Florentine influences. 

Construction started in 1914 and it was inaugurated in 1916. The Usina was home to Ítalo Argentina de Electricidad until 1980, when the company sold the factory to the state. It was finally liquidated in 1997 because of the oversupply of electricity and high maintenance costs. The building was abandoned and left to deteriorate. With the help of various Governors of the city of Buenos Aires, including the incumbent Mauricio Macri, the Usina has been turned into one of the city’s main arts centres.

Coming back to tango, we managed to get tickets for an orchestral performance by tango guitar legend Juanjo Domínguez Cuarteto. I had never heard of him before, and ok it was not quite the tango dancing I had imagined. But he was a cool, old dude who had certainly strummed some guitars in his time.

La Milonga del Dique 0

Right next to the Usina, a temporary milonga, La Milong del Dique 0, nestled under the motorway where you could practice your moves and register for free classes. I was even asked to dance but had to politely decline the offer. Of course I didn’t want to show up everyone else… If only that had been the case.

Tango en vive at la Milonga del Dique 0

For someone who admires tango but was not crazy about it (up until now that it is), this was a good but gentle initiation into this other world. It often seems like such a cliché, but it was actually good fun. From older, sophisticated crooners to some young hipsters strutting their moves, it was hard to tear myself away from the fancy footwork... and more.

Passionate, intense and downright seductive, tango contains all the elements a dance needs. And it doesn’t have to be cheesy. I can see the beginnings of an enduring but also turbulent love affair.  

A sodden Buenos Aires: storms, floods and misery

I have just given my cleaner packets of biscuits as part of a collection for victims who have been badly affected by the floods in Buenos Aires province. Unfortunately, I couldn't think of anything else we owned that could be of use under such tragic circumstances.

I’ve only just realised the enormity of this disaster, having read heart-breaking newspaper reports and seen pictures of people being forced to evacuate their homes.

A week under water, courtesy of Clarin

The front page story in Wednesday’s Clarin, a national Argentine newspaper, reported that six municipalities in the province were under water and that more than 20,000 people had been affected. Yesterday, there were pictures of the river overflowing in Quilmes, the area where we live.

Carrying on the fight 

Sadly, many of the shanty towns, known as villas, are also in Quilmes. A resident from the villa whose job it is to “help” people park their cars for a small fee told me that his area had been flooded, but that they would carry on fighting.

We have gotten off extremely lightly in the face of such desperate situations. Our small front lawn, where the grass has worn away, has turned into a mini pond but thankfully our swimming pool has not overflowed.

I know I should be used to it, coming from England, particularly having just come back from a wet and cold summer. Still, I don’t think I’ve ever seen lightening during mid-morning or heard thunder so deafening loud that our house almost shook with fear.

The storms seem to have been caused by the Sudestada (Southeast blow), a climatic phenomenon that commonly affects the River Plate and the surrounding area. A sudden rotation of cold southern winds create cooler temperatures, heavy rainfall and choppy seas – usually between July and October.

That said, the people I have spoken to have been surprised by how long it has rained. A couple of days, yes, but constant rain for a week on end like this is considered unusual.

An absent government response 

Yet, perhaps what is less surprising is the government’s handling of the situation. Scioli, governor of the Buenos Aires province and also the front-runner of the upcoming presidential elections, helpfully went to Italy during the floods. 

Despite Buenos Aires being an area prone to flooding, in 2014 spending on preventing flooding had fallen to its lowest level since the creation of the funds in 2010.

The rain may have finally stopped, but the politics of the flooding has just started.

A crazy place called home… Back in BAires

We arrived back to Buenos Aires greeted by pouring rain and a power cut… home sweet home! I have just returned after a month in England, our first trip there since we moved to BA six months to the day yesterday.

It’s funny; I've felt pretty settled in BA, hadn’t really missed England, apart from family and friends of course... until we went to England. I’m sure many expats experience this when trying to make a life abroad - where do you call home?

A lodge with a view - Bath, England

When I touched ground at Heathrow airport, it felt like I had never been away. I guess five and a half months is too short for things to change noticeably. I got on the tube with my Oyster card as I used to, berated myself for going shopping district in Oxford Street and didn’t have to plan my conversation before I opened my mouth.

Supermarkets, what a treat

Even going to to shops such as Sainsbury's and Marks and Spencer were a treat… I could buy everything I needed, for decent quality all under one roof. I'm sorry, but now that I'm living abroad, British supermarkets really are among the best in the world. And don't get me started on toiletries at Boots.... I'm pining already. 

I also forget how clean England is, compared with a lot of places. I didn’t have to keep my eyes glued to the floor in case I stepped in something grim, and could admire the pretty English countryside.

  

The weather, unfortunately, was very English. It rained as much in England in July as it had during the whole five and half months I had been in BA. However, when it came to seeing friends and family, it was as if I had just left them five minutes ago. 

I had gone back for two wedding celebrations (my own admittedly). Therefore, I was surrounded by family, some of whom had come from exotic places such as Kenya, Dubai and Belgium as well as friends from various aspects of my life.

Life of a princess 

I was spoilt rotten. I felt like a princess - pampered, fed while my hands and feet were covered in intricate henna designs and was dressed in a total of four incredibly beautiful outfits. What more could a girl want or need… 

A handful of henna

Alas, it was a slightly heavy heart that I returned to BA. Not because I did not want to come back, but because of the thought that I may not see some people again, as in elderly relatives, or events that I’ll most certainly miss out on.

So while I returned to a damp BA, I must remember that sun will start to shine more brightly in BA than in England in the months ahead. And when I think about home, why limit myself to one home when I can have two.          

A winter’s tale in BAires

Winter has taken it’s time to fully show its face this year in Buenos Aires. We’ve been waiting for the winds from La Pampa to blow a chill across the city. Compared with last year, 2014, primavera seems to have gone on and on and on… Not that I’m complaining but I’m intrigued to know how winter fares in the southern hemisphere. Finally, the mist is beginning to settle, just maybe.

A misty morning in BA

I’m often asked how cold it gets in BA and if it snows. July, the equivalent of January in the UK, is probably the coldest month in BA. I only experienced a few days of it, but it has got to down to about 6 degrees in the morning, rising up to about 11 or 12 degrees during the day.

It’s strange how 11 degrees can feel really warm in the UK (during winter I mean) but feels really cold in BA. I’m pleased to report we have proper heating in our house; it's so good that the radiator has burnt the wall in the lounge. And it has been known to snow, though very rarely. It last snowed in BA in 2007, and the last time before that in 1918! 

I had packed barely any winter clothes when we had first arrived in BA. It was the height of summer; who wants to think about thermal vests or long-sleeved tops when it’s 30 degrees outside? “You won’t possibly need any warm clothes, not until May at the earliest,” said my husband Alistair.

Luckily, he was correct. I was worried that I would be pining for my Uggs in no time. April was unusually warm in BA. Even May, which is often an unpredictable month in terms of weather, was pretty glorious. Only once did I need to wear a base layer while out running. I've also been amazed at how little it has rained, as well as seeing bouts of thunder and lightening in winter.

Now the air is slightly fresher in BA, I thought it would be a good time to escape to warmer climes and get some winter sun… To the UK of all places. And my Uggs are coming back with me. Just in case. 

Freelancing: Striking a balance in a frenemy’s paradise

I have diligently been trying to keep up my weekly blog posts and have made it past entry No.10. Four months in and now they’re starting to slip. I do admire people who manage to update their blogs while holding down a full-time job, of which I’m doing neither. 

But neither am I breezing from one café to another, bar hopping or being a lady who lunches. Instead, I’ve been cooped in my office/dining room in freelancing heaven, hell or somewhere in between.

Ohhhhhhhhhhhh

When we decided to move to Buenos Aires, a blog seemed ideal to give me some focus while meeting people, finding my feet, and importantly looking for work.

However, not having a national identity card when we first arrived in BA meant I couldn’t work in an official capacity. Too bad, but at the same time I was relieved. Although we had moved here primarily for my husband’s work, having come this far, I didn’t want to work in an office if I could help it. Also that would mean working over the summer while Alistair, who is a teacher, could take off and see the country for almost three months.    

My Spanish was ok before we arrived so that was a bonus, maybe. Nonetheless, I had no idea where to start, who to ask, where to look…

Contacts, contacts and more contacts

First came the English lessons, providing extra tuition to pupils at St George’s College, the school where Alistair teaches. I was worried that it would interfere with my social life, but with little cash of my own, I guess a heaving social life was not on the agenda. Besides the kids are entertaining, and expanding my education in turn. I have read two new novels, Disgrace and Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit, because one of students is reading them for English.      

Next, by chance I met a guy at the swimming pool in our previous apartment complex and it turned out that he works in the medtech industry. This is very close to my previous line of work, as I was a journalist and then later for a communications/public relations firm focused on life sciences. 

I've told almost anyone I meet that I’m looking for contacts. In general, people have been very kind, including my swimming pool friend sent me lots of contacts on LinkedIn.

Be brave. Since then I have approached so many people on LinkedIn I have lost track. Out of a 100 invitations and messages, I might receive five replies but I’ve consoled myself that’s ok and I just have to push on. 

I’ve managed to pitch one story on the pharmaceutical industry in Latin America and Argentina to my previous employer, Scrip, a news and intelligence service focused on the biopharmaceutical industry.

Since then, a friend in England who works for an international pharmaceutical consultancy service has asked me to transcribe and translate audio interviews in Spanish into English from a field-trip in Colombia. My brain is slightly frazzled, but I have to say it’s great for improving my Spanish. 

I was worried I might not have enough to do (besides planning a wedding from abroad), so I’m also contending with my Chartered Institute of Marketing digital marketing course in marketing communications. 

From nowhere I’ve ended up biting off a bit more than I can chew, drowning with all my multiple deadlines. 

Alistair and my good friend Francesco have told me several times to say NO. But I don’t feel I can, not yet anyway. This is about my reputation, building up skills and ultimately selling me. So until then I may be flitting from freelancing being my friend to it being my foe...? But a worker’s paradise is none other than what you make it – mine just happens to be a dining room in BA.  

Duathlon in la Pampa: Everyone’s a winner

Alistair and I did our first mountain bike duathlon on Sunday, and what an event. I came second in an unbeknown category to me and I didn’t even do the bike ride (more on that later). Only having done one duathalon before, in England and on a road bike, I didn’t know what to expect - in terms of the actual event but also what type of people would take part.

With Argentine society squeezed for every penny; heavy import restrictions; and high inflation, I was surprised that duathlons are as big as they are in Argentina. I mean bikes, trainers and the general attire are expensive. Yet, people seemingly have enough to spend on such recreational activities. And on looking good while doing their pursuits.

The race begins

The day consisted of a 5k, 10k and 15k run and then the duathlon. It all took place at Estación Gomez, one of the many abandoned train stations in Argentina, in the Buenos Aires provincial town of Brandsen.

Half asleep, having woken up at 6.45am for a race that was supposed to start at 12pm (Argentine timing so in actual fact any time after 12pm), I awoke to an array of well-kitted Argentines. There must have been at least a few hundred people at the event, parading a pretty impressive range of international bike brands - from Cube and Cannondale to Specialized and Meridas. 

Where the sun still shines

It was a glorious day, with blazing sunshine and up to some 20 degrees by 10am. Although unusually warm for this time of year, for the equivalent of the last day in November, you would never get a day like this in England.

The Argentines really had set up camp for the day. People had arrived early with their families and were relaxing on deck chairs or rugs under their team shelter canopies. We had come with our club, Club Kona, a local running and mountain biking club in Quilmes. A hearty breakfast of croissants and cakes (always going for the healthy option) was laid out for us, with the indispensable mate never too far away.

Unlike most duathlons I’m aware of, in this particular race (or maybe in Argentina in general) you can either: 1) do the complete event individually or 2) team up with a partner where one runs at either side only, and the other does only the bike. Bravo Alistair for deciding to do the whole thing. I chickened out and chose the latter; I only did the running part.

Chaos in the midst

Typically, no one knew what time the race started. The transition area was rather chaotic, with not enough room for all the bikes. No one even knew what the course looked like, expect that it would be flat. Even at the safety drill, no one understood the rules. And it was not just us gringos; even the locals looked perplexed after several explanations of sorts.

So off we went, oblivious. After a lovely section in the open campo, the path narrowed considerably. There were spiky bushes on either side, forcing us to run in single file, while trying not to get scratched. This was more like a steeple chase course than an undulating 5k. I didn’t really fancy doing it all over again.

The bike course was something else. At several points, the competitors had to dismount and carry their bikes over various obstacles, including half-missing railway sleepers. One of the girls in our team was lucky to have found two gentlemen who assisted her across this perilous section. This was certainly not for the faint-hearted.

Prizes galore

I had no idea what my time was but I was suitably rewarded for my efforts, with my partner and I coming second in the mixed double running-bike combo. Hah, I’d never even get on the rankings in England!

In true Argentine manner, the prize-awarding ceremony lasted an age. There were medals and trophies for every category imaginable; for each increasing five-year age bracket, gender, species etc. Club Kona actually won severally prizes, including first female overall in the complete duathlon, first and second in the mixed doubles and first in the preceding 15k runs in the respective age category. Kona means strong or valiant in the indigenous language of Mapuche, so I guess this was not altogether unsurprising. 

I might not have enjoyed the actual race but it was an insight into another side of Argentine society. People do, and enjoy doing, the same things as we do back home, even if on a rougher track and in a slightly more disorganised fashion. It was a great opportunity to mix with locals, do some exercise, for Alistair to make good use of his bike, see some of the countryside and to top it off, win a prize. I could think of worse ways to spend a Sunday.