Now that I got pass my little introduction of my Argentine roots and the travails of being a 1st generation Argentine American, I will now proceed into the nitty gritty.
After arriving in Buenos Aires and getting situated, it was time for me to get familiar with my new surroundings. In the neighborhood of Ramos Mejia, there really wasn't much going on so of course I was destined to venture into city section of Buenos Aires known as Capital Federal or just Capital. When Walter my Tia Saritas husband gave me the tour of the neighborhood there was a part of me that felt like I was back in Brooklyn. Just like my old hood, there block was quiet but 1 block over was Avenida Rivadavia , which is the largest avenue in Buenos Aires which goes from la Casa Rosada (This is Argentina's version of the White house except they call it the Pink House for obvious reasons) and goes on for 23 miles. Rivadavia just like my Avenue U in Brooklyn had all the shops one could need and similar to Brooklyn even the majority of the Groceries stores were owned by Koreans and Chinese.
Not only were their Asians in BA but their were also Africans. I remember when before my first trip to Argentina as a 6 year old that my father told me their was no black people in Argentina I did spot a black man in the airport but a side from this I don't recall seeing any other black people. Argentina had abolished slavery in the 1600's and right after there was a genocide so most blacks that survived went to Brasil and some to Uruguay or other parts of South America. Needless to say I was surprised upon arrival to come come across Senegalese vendors selling watches, rings, bracelets and other accessory right on Rivadavia. The only time I can recall encountering Senegalese people was when I had a lay over in Dakar on my way to Namibia. I thought to myself why the heck would Senegalese pick Argentina of all places to migrate to, especially since Europe was accessible via taking the ferry from Morocco to Spain. Plus Argentina's economy is a big fucking mess and not even Argentine's wanted their own Argentine pesos, which is partly why there is a huge black market for exchanging pesos for dollars. Just to give you a brief history of this matter, in 2001 there was a huge financial crisis in Argentina. Prior to the crisis the Argentine Peso and US Dollar were equal, one for one. But after the crisis the peso went down the toilet and the banks didn't allow the people to buy Dollars and if you had Dollars in the bank before the crisis you know had the same number figure in Pesos, pretty fucked. This lead to thousands of Argentine's to fleeing to Europe and Israel.
(Senegalese street vendor in Buenos Aires)
(Senegalase protesting to end Racial descrimination, apparently there are some racist scumbags in Buenos Aires)
This article goes into some of the reasons Senegalese migrate to Argentina https://yaleglobal.yale.edu/content/more-african-immigrants-finding-home-latin-america
Other Deja Vu similarities I found interesting was the distance it took to walk to the train station and the time it takes to get from to the city was was around 40 minutes the same as it took me to get from Brooklyn to Manhattan. I felt like I was reliving my Brooklyn years all over again, even though it had been 10 years since I had last visited my hometown. Since I am a man of action I was desiring to see the real Buenos Aires and what all the hype was about it was time to take our first solo trip into Capital. I wanted to full Porteno experience and shit balls Batman what occurred to me on my very first Saturday in Buenos Aires this November day was more of an experience then I had bargained for. (Porteno is the term given to Argentines from Buenos Aires since it is near the Port)
Upon arrival into BA, I took the 2 buses with my family to get to Ramos Mejia, which took a little over an hour. For some odd reason, when I asked my family how to get into Capital, they instructed me to take the train, El Tren Sarmiento to be exact. Knowing what I know now, especially the lesson I learned from the experience I am sharing with you, El Tren Sarmiento is not the safest or best way to get to the city. Actually I think my family was stupid as fuck for even suggesting this as the best method to get into City, it just shows you how little time they spend in the City. Even though I was aware that Argentina had issues with crime and violence, I never knew it was as severe as I would come to experience. Plus since I'm from Brooklyn and had already traveled and passed thru several rough neighborhoods in previous countries I really wasn't to concerned off the bat. Even in the part of Ramos Mejia I stayed at which was a predominantly middle class area there was a lot of petty theft, mostly people getting robbed for their cell phones or backpacks.
People in Argentina are absolutely paranoid about getting robbed because it is so common and of course the media does a great job on hyping and exaggerating reality as to scare the shit out of people. Another thing the media is also great at convincing people who to blame for all this crime and delinquency. Just like Trump blames Mexicans for the countries so called security issues in Argentina the blame goes mainly to Bolivians, Peruvians and Paraguayos. According to my Sarita, the increase migration of Bolivians to Argentina was the route problem of all our BA societies issues. Not to say that an influx of foreigners to any country doesn't cause complications from an economical stand point, but at the end of the day most of these immigrants are just looking to survive and provide a better life for themselves and there family.
(Macri is the current President of Argentina, the sign says' The problem is Macri, it's not US the niggers and immigrants, the problem is your Racism)
So my Tia Sarita suggested that when I ride the train that I should keep my backpack in the front for obvious reasons. Another interesting fact about the Tren Sarmiento is that it is known as the train with the most accidents. So due to this Argentine's just say Fuck It and don't pay to ride, this I have to say was attitude that I can relate too and fully support. It's like shit if I'm gonna put my life in danger then I'm not paying for it. Due to this fact Sarita also gave me the great advise of staying in the middle of the train just in case.
My first days with my family was cool, they were much more together and tight as a family unite then mine. Not only where they united they were all very extroverted and also entertainers. The entire family including were hardcore Karaoke fanatics, but not just as a hobby but professionally this was there side hustle. My uncle Walter is a pretty good singer and entertainer and the rest of the family aren't bad either so this was an obviously difference compared to my super introverted shy awkward family. Not only were they singers but they were actors and participate in different plays, even Sarita's mother my grandma's sister was part of of the act. I really liked Walter, he was super cool people and had a great sense of humor, I kinda wish he was my dad but oh well such is life As for me, Karaoke wasn't really my thing but as to not be an anti social hermit I did partake a little bit. I actually did have one enjoyable Karaoke moment back in my church days singing a long to Outkast "I'm sorry Miss Jackson" not an easy task to sing a long to that tune.
(They really take there Karaoke serious)
I am the 2nd of 6 children that my crazy ass dysfunctional parents had. Although for the majority of my life even with all the drama we more a less got along. I was always the black sheep of the family and just didn't give a fuck and did my own thing which is what really saved my life while growing up. At this point and time in Buenos Aires my relationship with my family was non existent and in complete turmoil. When I left the States for Chile I left with the heaviest of hearts. So heavy that I didn't tell anyone in my family that I was leaving, except for my niece Olivia who pretty much grew up as another sibling since my sister got pregnant at 16 and my mom happened to have my youngest brother at 43 making her and my youngest brother Gabriel 1 year apart. To be honest I wasn't meaning to tell her before I left, but I got a little high so I slipped, plus I was the closest thing to a father she knew and protected her on many occasions when my mother would act like a crazy bitch so I didn't want her to think I abandoned her. I made her swear not to say a word.
Aside from that my parents treated me like shit after I came back from Namibia where I spent 2 months in a relationship that left me disappointed, broke and with me having to pick up the broken pieces of my life all over again. I then found out I was going to be a father and then went into a deep depression after the birth of my daughter Amiah when I was not given any access to my daughter and all any wanted from was Money. No one in my family gave 2 shits about what I was feeling or going thru. Everyone closed there hearts and turn there backs on me, not just my family, everyone. They judged me for not having a job and smoking and tried to play me out like I was a bum even though I have held jobs since I was 10 years old. But my heart was broken I could care less about money, so the only thing that saved me and gave me a reason to live during this time was marijuana. Eventually I said fuck it I'm leaving, I really did just that. There was no good bye, no see you later, nothing. I also escaped in secret because I had to sell my car which I didn't fully own and was still paying my grandma for loaning me the mother. I felt kinda shitty for this but when your back is against the wall you just do what needs to be done.
My family in Argentina had no real clue as to the dysfunction of my family back home. They didn't know how abusive, psychopathic, mentally ill and bipolar my parents were. They didn't know about the years of physical, verbal and emotional abuse I suffered, or their drug abuse, the fights, the drama, the having to run away from my father for dear life with my mom and 4 siblings after beating her and pointing a gun to her head, they knew nothing or didn't want to know the Truth. People really judge based on pictures they see and create whatever fantasy about my family that makes them feel good and fulfill there illusions. Often times it is the person who is honest and tells the truth that is made to be the scapegoat and villain. So when Sarita invited me to come to Argentina, she really didn't understand my situation. Since my mom came to the States at 9, they really only knew each other from the time we spent there in 1983. So of course they met the best version of my parents possible, young, happy and with mucho dinero aka MONEY. They didn't know the darkness I grew up with. They didn't know what it's like to see your fathers coked out face at 5 years old. Or to be taken to a motel with your brother and witnessing your father showering with his Argentine whore girlfriend Pasqualina because he was too stupid to close the bathroom door.
I always loved being around healthy happy families since it was what I most lacked in my life. During my Christian years, (yes I was a Christian for many years something I will discuss in much more detail in future post) One of my greatest joys was being invited to a families house for lunch. So it was great to see how united my family in Argentina, it's great to see that not everyone is completely fucked up. With that being said I probably was too honest and shared to much detail about my family with them that there were really not willing to accept. The biggest regret I had was admitting to them that I smoked marijuana which was the cause of my issues I had with my parents. I guess I thought they would be more open minded since there were entertainers. But seriously, I was just kidding myself to think that they with all the TV they watched were not part of the sheeple. So of course Marijuana a natural plant with medicinal properties was bad because it's ILLEGAL. But it's perfect ok for them to drink coca cola, beer, aspartame, gmo foods and smoke cigarettes with your 17 year old daughter. Fucking hypocrisy I tell ya.
Honesty is probably one of my best and worst qualities. I guess unless your in a situation it might be difficult to understand where someone is coming from. I realized in the first days that I was not going to be able to stay long in this house. When Sarita invited me to come, it wasn't like stay forever and live with us. No, it was more like "Ale que vas hacer"?? (Translation, What the fuck are you going to do?) And also my cousin used the room for her designing so I knew my time was limited. Ok I added the fuck because there too polite to say it this way and I'm not). I really didn't have the luxury to dick around and just go site seeing. I need a plan of survival, I need to find some form of income and a place to stay. She never said exactly how long I could stay, but I felt the pressure so I was going to have to get on that fucking Tren Sarmiento, get to the city and make shit happen.
In the first days I started venturing to Capital to see whats good. Because I had spent time and became acquainted with the hostel world while in Chile, I figured I could possibly find work as a receptionist since I was now fully bilingual by this point in time in my life. So when I got on the Train it was pretty chill since I would go in the afternoon after the morning after rush hour. The last stop of the train is Once and from there you can transfer to the subway which is called the Sube. Also they sell Sube cards so if your ever in BA, its best to get one off the bat. Technically your suppose to register the card but this is bureaucratic bullshit. Once as the area is called is one of the worst parts of the city, so if you venture out you definitely better be careful. This area has a lot of vendors, mostly immigrant Bolivians, Paraguayans and Peruvians. At this point I didn't venture around ONCE, I just took the subway to Peru station and walked to San Telmo, that's where many of the hostels are located. So I walked around, dropped by a few hostels and dropped off my resume. At one hostel I made friends with a Brazilian guy named Sandro from Porto Alegre. Even though he was gay (I think it was the super short daisy duke cut off jean shorts he was wearing that gave it away) he was super cool. He gave me a lot of good advise about how to find work in BA and even offered for me to stay at his place in Porto Alegre once he returned there which he said would be in a few months. Since the World Cup was the following years I was already thinking of the future, so we exchanged numbers and became Facebook friends. Wait till you hear that story, I definitely got problems, as if you haven't noticed.
When I finally made way back to Ramos Mejia, I finally understood why I needed to be so careful of not getting robbed on the train. I got to ONCE around rush hour to fine a huge crowd people fighting and squeezing to get on the train. Not only was it packed with mostly Bolivian, Paraguayos and Peruvians. Not that I am a racist or anything but I could feel the energy on the train was not a good one. Even with all my travels and life experience I did not feel safe on this train. I just did like Sarita told me and wore my backpack in the front and my cell phone out of site as not to get robbed. So it was a super uncomfortable the ride to Ramos Mejia. Getting off the train was a huge pain in the ass with all the people squeezing and fighting to get thru. Coming from New York, normally people who worked in the city but lived outskirts like Long Island or New Jersey were coming from nice suburban areas. Unlike New York, many people that lived on the outskirts of Buenos Aires did so because it was cheaper.
(As you can see, backpacks or mochillas as there called are carried in front)
(Good luck getting in, good luck geting out. I was not exagerrating as to how pack this bitch train gets)
I did make it back safe and sound, Thank God. Overall my first few days in Argentina were good, different then what I expected but still good. Even though I enjoyed my family I still felt like an outsider or the black sheep as has been the case my entire life. My 3 girl cousins were cool but it wasn't like anyone of them was going out of there way to take me out sightseeing, which I felt a bit disappointed by. To there defense, my family didn't venture much outside there neighborhood so there were almost as familiar with the city as I was, so not much use to me but the company would have been nice. I guess I always had high expectations of people and often feel let down because people rarely do for me what I would do for them. But such is life and one must accept that people are people and not everyone is going to bend over backwards and roll out the red carpet. But whatever, I have been a life long loner so it just made me not depend on anyone. Contrary to bend over backwards, most people will fuck you in the ass if given the opportunity.
Since I was a small child I had very little family support and had to figure things out on my own. It was pure wishful thinking that this experience with my family Argentine would be different then it was with mine. At the end of the day people or people and just because someone is your blood relative doesn't mean they have you back.
My life and travel has thought me that one's real family of more of a spiritual lineage and not so much physical. And as out of place I felt with my family and this world, thru traveling I meet many people from all over the world just like make looking for true connections. People honest, kind, loving and Pure.
Sometimes life doesn't seem fair and we wish things were different. But learning to accept what is and be thankful for what you have and for the people that truly care for you is critical.
This is the intro to my next story of how one mistake could have cost me everything in this world.
Thank you for reading and Peace be with you.
One Love