I booked a day tour of the city for my last hurrah. Run by three enterprising university students, it took us through the centre of the city, with lots of important history. We went to the Plaza de Mayo, home to the Casa Rosada where Eva Peron spoke from the balcony and to the Madres who walk round the square every Thursday, in white headscarves, demanding to know what happened to their children during the military dictatorship. The white headscarves have replaced the nappies that the women first wore to signify their loss. 30,000 people died during a very short, very nasty period of time and even now most of them are ‘missing’. Worse, many of those taken who were pregnant had their children adopted by members of the military ie the very men and women responsible for the torture and death of their real parents. What a bloody mess. So now there is a movement of Abuelas – grandmothers - pacing round the square as well. The mothers’ symbol of a knotted white headscarf has been stencilled on the square floor – and over the top there are angry black loops added by surviving members of the military dictatorship who, unbelievably, are still defending their ‘position’.
The Plaza de Mayo was also where the middle classes protested during Argentina’s most recent financial meltdown in 2001 by banging pots – the wonderfully named cazerolazo – which roughly translates as pot war. Around the square are floor plaques commemorating those killed by the police during the demonstrations and on the walls of important buildings splattered red paint, for all the bloodshed. Actually there are still lots of police all over the place – dressed in black which makes them look a bit menacing.
We went to the Trades Unions’ HQ which is now a shrine to Eva Peron who was responsible for bringing the womens’ vote to Argentina and lots of workers’ rights. When she died a million Argentines came to Buenos Aires to mourn her and visit her body lying in state. The huge avenue was completely crammed with people who had to wait 15 hours to view her wax corpse, in what was called La Marcha Dolorosa (the Walk of Pain). Whatever you may say about Argentines they’re certainly poetic and given to grand gestures. When I was in Buenos Aires a former president, Raul Alfonsin, died and the city centre was lined with people come to say goodbye, clutching flowers and the Argentine flag and singing through the long night, in the pouring rain.
Our guide, Nicolas tried to explain Peronism to us – it apparently doesn’t really exist. While Peron was left-wing in his commitment to social reformation he was also arrogant and dictatorial – much like Hugo Chavez in Venezuela now, I thought. Anyway politicians of all persuasions in Argentina all claim they’re Peronists which makes it all meaningless.
We visited an earthy mound under a motorway, traffic roaring overhead, which was the dug-up remains of a secret bunker, built by the military dictatorship to torture people and only recently uncovered. What revolting bastards – as the motorway was being planned they had the foresight to add in a little palace of delights of their own. Needless to say, the site, now covered in little crosses and the outline of a body (like those made following a murder) picked out in the mud, reduced us all to silence.
The Plaza de Mayo was also where the middle classes protested during Argentina’s most recent financial meltdown in 2001 by banging pots – the wonderfully named cazerolazo – which roughly translates as pot war. Around the square are floor plaques commemorating those killed by the police during the demonstrations and on the walls of important buildings splattered red paint, for all the bloodshed. Actually there are still lots of police all over the place – dressed in black which makes them look a bit menacing.
We went to the Trades Unions’ HQ which is now a shrine to Eva Peron who was responsible for bringing the womens’ vote to Argentina and lots of workers’ rights. When she died a million Argentines came to Buenos Aires to mourn her and visit her body lying in state. The huge avenue was completely crammed with people who had to wait 15 hours to view her wax corpse, in what was called La Marcha Dolorosa (the Walk of Pain). Whatever you may say about Argentines they’re certainly poetic and given to grand gestures. When I was in Buenos Aires a former president, Raul Alfonsin, died and the city centre was lined with people come to say goodbye, clutching flowers and the Argentine flag and singing through the long night, in the pouring rain.
Our guide, Nicolas tried to explain Peronism to us – it apparently doesn’t really exist. While Peron was left-wing in his commitment to social reformation he was also arrogant and dictatorial – much like Hugo Chavez in Venezuela now, I thought. Anyway politicians of all persuasions in Argentina all claim they’re Peronists which makes it all meaningless.
We visited an earthy mound under a motorway, traffic roaring overhead, which was the dug-up remains of a secret bunker, built by the military dictatorship to torture people and only recently uncovered. What revolting bastards – as the motorway was being planned they had the foresight to add in a little palace of delights of their own. Needless to say, the site, now covered in little crosses and the outline of a body (like those made following a murder) picked out in the mud, reduced us all to silence.
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