How Do You Say "Dow 30,000" in Spanish?

Today at 11:19 a.m. Buenos Aires time, the index tracking the local stock market--the Merval--hit its highest level ever, 1760.66. Make of that what you will.

Bolsa de Buenos Aires vuelve a superar su máximo histórico [Economía y Negocios]

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"Resistance" ends, "Thursday" continues

After 1,500 Thursday marches the Madres de Plaza de Mayo (Mothers of the Plaza of May) called the end to their weekly marches at 6 p.m. today, following a 24-hour protest in the Plaza de Mayo. A protest against the military dictatorship and a demand for justice for the 30,000 killed during the 1976-1983 military dictatorship in Argentina, the Madres' marches because a constant and affecting reminder of the past, and with time almost a kind of tourist attraction. This week, however, the head of the Madres, Hebe de Bonafini, announced that the group was capping up the marches at 1,500 because, "Now the President (Kirchner) is a friend of the Mothers and is doing many things we never hoped to see." Not surprisingly this stance wasn't held by all the groups involved in the weekly protests, some of whom wanted to continue and others who felt that to say Kirchner was a friend was to be co-opted by the Powers That Be (there's also the explanation that, well, they've been at this for 23 years--they may just be tired). One group against stopping was the Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo--the Grandmothers of the Plaza of May--thus showing once and for all that children and parents will always fight. But all that aside, it was a moving event and an important reminder that few of the perpetrators have ever been brought to justice, and few of the children who were stolen and given to their parents' killers have ever been recovered. Photos I took at the event follow.

A march of various organizations--and their flags

Hebe de Bonafini

Souvenir photos with Bonafini at the last march

The tower of photos of the Disappeared

A lone marcher

P.S.: As Tutatis notes in the comments link to this post, this was not the last of the Thursday marches, but the last Resistance march. "Thursday marches are held weekly since the late 70s for about half an hour," Tutatis writes. "Resistance marches are held yearly since 81 and run over an entire day. Plus, the resistance march actually ended in November or December, I don't remember exactly, but the more radical Mothers of PdM wing (led by Hebe de Bonafini) delayed it so as to stage it on the same day as Thursday march 1500." Thanks, T.

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Dude, I Did What? Daaaaamn.

Proving that the language barrier between them didn't stop Mike Tyson from teaching him something during their very odd meeting, Diego Maradona got into a good ol' club brawl and bonked someone in the head with a glass. But this was not your average melee. The club was in...Bora Bora. And the victim was none other than...the 1999 Miss Bora Bora. The former Polynesian booty embassador, Tumata Vaimarae, and Maradona's daughter Gianina had a bit of a tiff (oooooh, a multi-cultural catfight--that's HOT) and an unidentified man struck Gianina. Maradona threw his glass and, with him being more of a foot guy and all (Hand of God aside), he managed to clock the former Ms. Bora Bora instead of the dude. She required nine stiches and filed a complaint that could have tossed him in jail for three years. To settle the situation, he paid her $5,870 (justice is much cheaper in Bora Bora than Brooklyn--just ask Tyson).

Nice try Diego, but you need another lesson from Mike T. if you're ever going to break into the Bad Behavior Bigtime.

Former Miss Bora Bora accuses Maradona of glass attack [AFP]
Maradona pays model, charges dropped [UPI]

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Going down?

An upset: Condé Nast Traveler's Gold List for 2006 ranks the Four Seasons Hotel in Buenos Aires ($310/night on up) a nudge above the old favorite, the Alvear Palace Hotel ($550/night on up). Ok, I'll admit: I only note this because I’m looking for an excuse to post photos of the Alvear’s remarkable marble spiral staircase—perhaps the most perfect and modest marble spiral staircase ever seen. It’s tucked to the side (to the left, if your back is to the entrance) and you have to make yourself dizzy to see just how far up the spiral extends. My esthetically sensitive aunt Jean raved to me about this staircase before I arrived, and it’s been shown to all visiting guests ever since. (Here seen in natural and artificial light: the hotel's photo and my own, respectively.)

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Es Manejar Tan Dificil?

Accidente en la ruta 2: hay seis heridos

Argentine drivers receive a fair bit of criticism from visitors and expats, for everything from their inability to use headlights (even at 2 a.m.) to their refusal to use lanes to the sheer lack of stopsigns on streetcorners. I've always been a defender of the local car-aiming capabilities however. Lanes? shouldn't they be organic? And stop signs? I prefer following one's recognizance: if there's nobody coming, go. (The headlight thing I just don't understand, however.) But a recent spate of accidents--horrifying, fatal accidents--especially among bus drivers and, weirdly, the Argentina-Uruguay ferry, have made me rethink this.

Here, a collection of images from crashes in the last two weeks or so, from La Nación (none from Clarín because, well, their search engine wasn't working).

Cuatro heridos al chocar dos colectivos en el microcentro porteño

En un choque, 4 muertos y 48 heridos

Devoto: 17 heridos tras un choque

Doce muertos en accidentes de tránsito en el país

Investigan el accidente del barco

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We're All Devo!

One of the current fracases facing Argentina is, well, wee little Uruguay. First, the lil' neighbor may or may not be negotiating a free-trade agreement with the U.S. outside of the umbrella of Mercosur (which may or may not be bad according to Pres. K). More importantly, Uruguay wants to build two paper plants just across the river from Argentina, which makes no one happy (on the Argentinean side) because of paper plants' renowned pollution, stink, etc. They naaaasty... that's the general feeling.

For a while now, Argentines from the affected areas as well as sundry other people who hanker to get a good civil disobediance on have been blocking local bridges to Uruguay, which has been an effective move in the sense that it's hurting tourism to Punta and in general pissing Uruguay off. Recently, however, the whole thing got kicked up a notch when Greenpeace got involved in blocking the trucks going over the bridges. It's not their role as an international environmental group that really swanks the thing up (though that's nice--don't get us wrong) but rather the fact they bring a little needed international style to a protest that's been wanting in that regard. I mean, seriously, look at them. The retro cut, the clean lines...that's so ironic it's double secret post-ironic. Either they're reenacting a 1950s auto-safety film strip or, well, a 1983 Devo album cover. Love the red, guys. Very top top.

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Argentina's Ruthless Efficiency

No, that headline is not meant in jest. I write not to mock Argentina's bureaucracy, but to celebrate it. Seriously. Yesterday I traveled across Buenos Aires, via the 108 bus (formerly known as the 21 bus and renamed for some obscure reason, but not changed on the city's bus maps; but I digress...) to the immigration division of the Ministry of Interior in order to renew my visa. Those of you who know something of Argentine bureaucracy, or of the European bureaucracy it aspires to be--or who've merely read Kafka's "Before the Law" at some point in your life--will understand the sense of foreboding such a trip inspires.

I'd been once before, in order to apply for a long-term work visa, and because I knew-someone-who-knew-someone, I was able to get my application done is a merciful four hours (they helped me concoct the letter explaining why I was applying from inside the country, let me make an advance appointment instead of taking a chit and waiting, etc.). But I got more than a feel for the process, the vibe, the onda of the whole thing. In the midst of a room blanketed in "Si Bush viene, yo paro" ("If Bush comes, I strike", referring to a planned work stoppage of Ministry employees should Bush come to the Summit of the Americas, which he did; whether they actually put in the effort to stop working is unknown to me) and "No smoking" signs bathed in clouds of cigarette smoke, sat clusters of resigned Bolivians, resigned Paraguayans, resigned Argentines, resigned... ok, everybody's resigned when they're sitting under sickly fluorescent lighting in a room where air doesn't--has never--moved, with their four bored kids and bad coffee and a chit that says "87" when the 'Serving Customer #' sign says 31.

At the end of my errand--my tramite--I was the proud owner of a 3-month visa precaria (a 'precarious visa', an accurate description of my immigration status that amuses me to no end). Beyond letting me work legally (thus taking the fun out of working), it gives me resident discounts at national parks, which has almost paid back its cost.

But back to my point. I shot across town yesterday, steeling myself for the inevitable bureaucratic marathon I'd endure being, as I was, bereft of any "help" from somebody-who-knows-somebody. And yet...I walked in, showed my old visa, was pointed to a desk without a wait, had my visa signed and stamped, walked across the cavernous room to the cashier to pay 10 pesos for a renewal, walked back to have someone else sign and stamp it (OK, there was a bit of bureaucracy), had it copied and handed back, was chased down by the immigration officer because the copier didn't work (this is Argentina; copiers don't work in government offices; it's the law), had the copy remade, and then simply...left.

That was it. 20 minutes. Visa renewed. If anyone wants to renew their faith in Argentine government, I would go to Migraciones ASAP, during January while everybody is at the beach, and revel in the lack of lines. It's like having your own private friggin' ministry. It's awesome.

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Worker Solidarity

Now, I'm as union as the next guy. My dad was in a union, my uncles were in a union, I was in a union (ok, a journalist 'union'). But there are times that union actions go a little far. Take the controversial (and disputed) story of the lifeguards in Santa Clara del Mar. In that little beach town, a contract dispute led to a lifeguard strike and the hiring of outside guards. The situation was tense, no doubt, when on Tuesday lifeguard Gabriela Fraga heard the calls of a surfer who needed held. She was on her was to begin a rescue when, she says, three striking lifeguards tried to stop her from going to the surfer's aid. (For their part, the striking guards denied her story, saying instead that she was delayed and they were doing the rescue.)

Man, I'm all for worker solidarity and keeping the picket lines solid, but that's a little much, no?

Quisieron impedir un rescate en medio de un paro de guardavidas [Clarín]
Polémica por los guardavidas que impidieron un rescate [La Nación]
Más acusaciones en Santa Clara por el piquete en el mar [Clarín]
Denunció haber sido atacada por guardavidas [La Nación]

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G’bye Scout

The procedure was a success: At the casa de golpes (house of hits/ body shop) in the city’s car district, Sandro removed the front paragolpes (bumper), subjected it to a machina de calentar (heating machine) and molded it back into shape. Just a scant scar remained.

Cleaning up after my brush with the inside of our old building’s parking garage was probably the last interaction I’ll have with the faithful Honda Scout 4x4, generously lent to us by Jamie T, my old Princeton neighbor and good family friend, for seven whole months. In those seven months, the Scout allowed us to escape the Capital Federal to see Alta Gracia, Avellenda, Cordoba, Ezeiza, Hurlingham, Lanus, La Plata, Lomas de Zamora, Luján, Quilmes, Rosario, San Antonio de Areco, Tigre and Vicente Lopez. What’s more, the Scout served as Ian’s almost soundproof studio to record the narration for his radio debut on NPR’s On the Media. (Parked in the garage of our former home, he spoke into a borrowed microphone with a blanket over his head.)

The Scout is heading for the used-car lot, where Jamie picked her up some years ago. There, she's sure to find someone who can appreciate her four-wheel drive and roomy interior.

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Maradona Love Reaches New Heights

Diego Maradona love--and how we love him so--has reached its Platonic Perfection with a new movie, Loving Maradona. The title says a lot, but the soccer team on the poster, lovingly populated by Maradona in his various guises (from a shy teen to a bloated, coke-addled toad), says all the rest.

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Titmania!

In one of its periodic (okay, weekly) obsessions with female secondary sexual characteristics, Argentina has turned its discerning eye on the female breast. A few weeks ago it was Clarín's Sunday magazine investigating the Return of the Push-Up Bra. This week, Noticias (the local take on Time or Newsweek) leads with the coverline "Tetamanía", or, well, "Titmania". The story's rubric online? "Super pechos" or "Super breasts". And it's tease? "Famosas y anónimas de toda edad quieren tener pechos enormes. Siliconas en lugar de fiesta de 15..." Yes, it's true, "Famous and anonymous people of all ages want enormous breasts. Silicon instead of a Sweet 15 party..." It's about time they got around to investigating this.

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Elbow protection

Photo right: A boy drives a motorbike with a girl holding on in Luján de Cuyo, Mendoza province. On the boy's left elbow is a helmet. I can't tell you what a common sight this is in Argentina. Why protect the elbow? Perhaps Argentine moms don't let their sons leave the driveway without their helmets on. A half block from home, helmet is then removed from head and placed on elbow to let hair blow in the breeze. Any other theories?

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Incoming?: Un golpe de calor

I don't know why I enjoyed this illustration in today's paper so. I guess it's because I look forward to a hot weekend of eating bananas under a large sombrero while limiting my physical activity, just like the depicted rubia. Temperatures are expected to hit the 90s each day for the next few days in Buenos Aires, which really isn’t so bad. After two winters back to back, I’m enjoying this spell in flip-flops and tank tops. And Ian just installed an overhead fan in our bedroom without electrocuting himself.

Una ola de calor hostigará a los porteños este fin de semana

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