2009.10.04_an apolitical picture story

I dedicate this picture story to my Whore, who was dismayed by my vow to post more politics.

Sundays in Buenos Aires have an apocalyptic feel to them. Before I even leave my building, I can hear the the absence of cars honking. The porter is off duty, and as I exit the lobby and cross the vacant street, a newspaper blows by. Kirchner did something again. The street lights are still working, but the bank, the pharmacy, the markets -- from the verdulerias to the carnecerias -- are all shuttered, and I quietly forfeit my mission to buy tape that day. It's a trade-off, but one I'm totally cool with. Without all the bustle, my senses are more acute, and I notice things that normally escape my attention, like elevated garbage bins.



I'm just walking now, checking out the silence and the breeze and the sun and the shadows. I don't have anywhere to go, and I don't have to watch where I'm going. I can walk up to gated store windows and stare as long as I want, and nobody stares back. Nobody is around to talk to, except for this huge cat, but he's busy watching over this bike. Even my local park is empty, with the exception of The Slide.


Political photo break:


A few blocks later, I'm abruptly surrounded by people and commotion. Plaza Serrano is having its weekend fair, where the bars and restaurants morph into bar and restaurant shops, and the guests dine among racks of clothes. It's like consumerist Robots in Disguise. I quickly tire of the sound of money exchange, and head out in another direction. A guy asks me for directions, and I finally give them to him after making him repeat himself twice. He's going my way, so we walk and talk for a while. He, like everyone who's never been to the U.S., thinks I'm crazy for leaving. We do the cheek kiss as we depart, because we've known each other for three whole minutes.

I've started playing this game with myself, where every time I go out, I retroactively label an event as the primary purpose for the outing. I know it sounds stupid, but it's not like I actually believe that some things are meant to be or that things happen for a reason or some crap. I just like having the freedom to relinquish any preconceived notions about my trip, and waiting until it's complete to decide on a purpose. At this moment, I see what I came out for -- a dog-owner standoff*. A man waits for his dog to poop on the sidewalk; he has nothing in his hands but the leash. Halfway down the block, a woman waits for her dog to poop on the sidewalk; she is holding the leash and some plastic bags. Her gaze is locked on him, as she slowly bends down to pick up the poop. His dog is done too, but he doesn't leave. He stands, and stares back. She straightens, with the poop, and stares more. He points to the plastic bags in her hand and then to his dog's poop. Oh shit. She's staring really hard now. How this ends, I have no idea, because I couldn't walk any slower without becoming part of the standoff, and I did not want to get hit with a bag of shit. (I have no photographic evidence for the same reasons.)

*I'm pretty sure that's what this was.