One of our first days here, we were looking to buy rechargeable subway cards so that we wouldn't have to deal with single tickets. The rechargeable version (called the SUBE card) also offers a slight discount off each ride, which is about as expensive as half an empanada. We had been told that to purchase SUBE cards, we would need to find a kiosk that advertised them and present our passports to the vendor.
We came across a pharmacy with a sign in the window that read "SUBE - Cargue Aquí." Although we didn't have our passports on us, we thought we'd try anyway and at worst figure out how the process works. The pharmacist immediately produced two cards and started to ring us up. Being a conscientious tourist, I asked if we needed to provide identification. He looked up over his glasses, furrowed his brow a bit, and snickered, "Estamos en Argentina." Passports to buy subway cards? Please—we're in Argentina.
If this exchange had taken place on Twitter, a hashtag would've been born. The days that followed afforded countless opportunities to invoke it. Scheduling a meeting at "9 in the afternoon" #estamosenargentina. Choosing ice cream flavors from a menu where dulce de leche is its own category #estamosenargentina. Red wine and red meat #estamosenargentina.
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Here are a few more examples:
La limpieza. Before signing the lease to our furnished apartment, we reviewed the inventory of housewares with the leasing agent. She showed us the broom and mop, the latter being a rag that we somehow attach to a squeegee type thing. Fine, that will work for the cement and laminate floors, but not so well for the carpeted area. "Is there a vacuum?" we asked her. With a shrug, she observed, "No... the carpet is grey."
El orgullo. Despite there always being political or economic volatility to (rightfully) complain about, Argentines are proud of their country. Here, there are no colors more loved than those of the Argentinian flag, white and—this is important—not light blue, but celeste. Beyond the flags hanging from windows, there are celeste-striped plastic bags, celeste-striped dog collars, even celeste cement trucks.
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| Mixing cement, water, and nationalistic pride. |
Los Simpson. You can find Homero on Channel 10 at noon every day, back to back, without commercials. (I'm watching it to learn Spanish, I swear.) It appears unsolicited in Argentinian pop culture. In a conversation I had a few days ago, an Argentine compared the rivalry between the neighboring cities of San Juan and Mendoza to that of Springfield and Shelbyville (he was from San Juan, so I assume Mendoza was Shelbyville).
El grafiti. Generally in Buenos Aires, graffiti is not considered vandalism, and in a few cases is even sponsored by the government. Which means there is a lot of it.
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| It often tells you where you are more accurately than street signs. |
So here we are, walking down the street sipping mate, getting dripped on by air-cons, counting the number of times we hear the Name of Messi evoked. It doesn't matter which way we look—we know where we are.
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| Because even the sky is celeste. |