Días de la Memoria

--“¿Hola?”
--“Soy Stephen, de cuarto dos, cama siete.”
Name, room, and bed: that’s how one enters the Palermo House Hostel.
And now that we are on the same page about getting into the hostel, how did I come to be in Argentina, and how did Argentina get where it is?

I’m here because the Fulbright Commission awarded me an English Teaching Assistantship. Thanks is due U.S. Senator Fulbright, an Arkansas native, who initiated the Fulbright Program to facilitate peace through education. (A note for my college buddies: At the earliest, one applies in the early fall of their last year of college for a specific country and then if you are accepted, off you go with a hearty stipend and all your travel covered.)

I came here to travel more and approach confirmation of my suspicion that the whole world is without borders and that we can live as one. Oh, and grow and study for the LSAT. That’s the Law School Admissions Test, and it’s on December 5, just a couple of weeks after I return to Fayetteville/Danville, Arkansas. Ahh... Fayetteville/Danville...

Another reason to travel is the general fun of exploration. And another couple of reasons would be to come up for air and deny the automatic; traveling provides me time and space to check in and make sure that I’m moving intentionally, to verify that perpetual motion isn’t what propels me. Also, there's time to teach English and be a cultural ambassador (in fact, those activities constitute my job description), to play music with new Argentine friends, to Skype with old non-Argentine ones, and finally apply for law school and scholarships and other such things.

So that’s how I got here.

“How did Argentina get where it is?” By golly, though it may seem disjointed, the first thing that comes to mind is the US' lean toward facism under President George W. Bush. Though we did not have any U.S. citizens “disappeared” under President Bush as far as I know (though there was Jose Padilla, whom Bush declared an “enemy combatant” and so was jailed for years without a trial. Eek!), Argentina had plenty during what they call “La Dictadura.” The country went all the way to a fascist police state. Some who tried to steer the country another way were kidnapped, tortured and killed. Plenty of people including teenagers were among the 30,000+ “desaparecidos,” the disappeared, some of whom were flown over the ocean and tossed out of an airplane. (The Bush-era practice of extraordinary rendition comes to mind, but is admittedly dissimilar.)

Tuesday the 24th was quite a big day as far as remembering La Dictadura. In fact, it was “Día de la Memoria.” I visited the site of a massacre, and there met the governor of Chaco. That night, I met more great, socially conscious folks at a lecture/community art/concert event.

To continue meandering around the topic of Argentine history, here’s some less serious information, courtesy of my “LonelyPlanet: Argentina” tourist guidebook: The country “gave birth to the tango, Evita Perón, and Che Guevara… and the public bus, the coronary bypass and the ballpoint pen…”

Argentina’s history is similar to the US’ in that before the Europeans “discovered” it there were Indigenous folks living here. A genocide similar to the US’ ensued, and now there are not as many Native American folks. The newly Spanish territory was given the Latin name for silver, argentum. “But the mineral riches that the Spanish found in the Inca Empire of Peru never panned out in this misnamed land.” Take that, Colónizers. So then came typical colonizing: gather the Native folks into settlements, take their riches and read them the Bible (it was the Jesuits in Argentina).

Whew, you know what, I’ll stop there with history. Let’s get to me.

I arrived in Buenos Aires on Friday the 13th, and hung out in the capital for five days, practicing yoga, meeting other Fulbrighters, standing in line to get a visa, and eating at great restaurants. These Fulbrighters are really in a class of their own, without judgment, without hurry, and really, really well traveled (One of us has been to 26 countries! She’s 23!). They are new, intelligent, and kind friends. And at least two of them are talented with a Frisbee.

On Wednesday evening around 11 or midnight I flew into Resistencia, where I’ll be working for the next eight months. A conversation with a stranger and it turns out he’s an attorney and a friend of Emilio, the guy in charge of looking after me. Exiting baggage claim, I saw a man with a sign reading, “M. Coger.” It was Emilio!

On the ride home we had a blast talking about music and culture and joking about my name and how the driver didn’t have the guts to go in and hold the sign with my name himself. Ha! For those of you as yet unaware, “coger” means something fairly suggestive in Mexican and Argentine Spanish. It has quite a strong connotation. Let’s leave it at that.

Describing his life and himself, Emilio said “I have a ponytail, two cats, and no television.” He’s non-religious and well traveled in a place where that’s largely not the case. He has a vast CD collection and is interested especially in Jewish music; he identifies as culturally Jewish.

So to jump around a little bit...

Nearly everyday has a stranger of the day. On the 13th it was the psychiatrist (Nancy) I sat next to on the plane and with whom I shared a taxi. On the 14th, it was a student of Swami Satchiananda Maharaj from India, my yoga teacher’s teacher and one of my teachers. On the 15th it was a taxi cab driver who played for me a tape of his own recordings, and who was elated when I got my trumpet out and played along on the way to the hotel.

So that’s it for now, almost.

This is the website of the place I practiced Ashtanga Yoga on the 14th:
www.valletierra.com/

And the Stranger of the Day Award Winner of the same day runs this place: http://espaciothai.com/

On Tuesday, March 17, 2009, I made a video from an organic restaurant in Buenos Aires for my friend Rachel Moore who happens to be the most talented cook I know, and said video is online at http://www.youtube.com/user/smcoger
(If you’d like to be alerted every time I post a video, you can subscribe to my youtube thingamajig. I think.)

Whatever the case is regarding YouTube subscription, this is what I had for dinner that night:

pan integral con crema de zanahoria, limón, y ajo encima
wheat bread with a carrot, limon, garlic cream to put on top

curry fresco de seitán con verduras y bolitas de arroz motti a la crema de coco
fresh seitan (wheat gluten) curry with vegetables and motti rice balls topped with coconut cream – 35 pesos

flan de coco con dulce de leche
flan with coconut shreds and puddin’! (This was not the most yogic desert, but I don’t mind.)

And this is the website for Bio Restaurant: http://www.biorestaurant.com.ar/

Now it is Thursday, March 26, 2009, and I have practiced yoga, studied for the LSAT, and worked on Geshe Goes to Arkansas, which I’m writing about Geshe Dorjee, my Tibetan teacher. Who out there knows a publisher of children’s books? I’m nearly ready. And I am ready for dinner, sooo, jehl yong! (That’s “see you!” in Tibetan)

This is the touristy-in-the-day-rob-you-at-night part of Buenos Aires. We left before sunset.

In a capital city of 14 million people like unto Buenos Aires it must have been unlikely to meet a disciple of Gurudev on my first full day there. Indeed, it must have been unlikely that my hostel would be on the self-same street as the disciple.

It was a heavy ceremony, remembering the 20+ young people massacred when they spoke up for freedom. Afterwards though I got to meet the governor of Chaco, Jorge Milton Capitanich. That is Emilio on the left and Gov. Capitanich in the middle.

A sign outside the door of The Museum of Memory: "A clandestine center of detention and torture was run here from 1976 through 1980. Victims of Repression. March 24, 2005

Photos of some of those disappeared are on the walls at the now museum of memory.
Another desaparecida.

To keep things light, my friend Donna and I headed to the square and I posed next to this lovely tree, a Polvo Borracho in Spanish or samuhú in a local Indegnous language, the legend of which has something to do with the tree drinking too much wine.

Back to the site of the massacre, musicians and a stenciled image of Che Guevarra.

The statues represent the victims of "The Massacre at Margarita Belén."
It was a heavy day for Argentines; I wonder what this guy was thinking as he watched young artists commemorate Día de la Memoria in and along the street.

To end on a lighter note, here I am in the center of Buenos Aires on the 15th!

That's all for now, family and friends. Drop me a line if you like at smcoger@gmail.com