Take a Taxi to the Planetario in the heart of the Palermo Forests, to attend the Fiesta for the Dia del Tango. An open air concert, free of charge of course, celebrating the birthday of the now defunct Carlos Gardel (and Julio de Caro), both iconic figures of traditional and original Argentinian tango music.
Portenos never go half way in these public fiestas: an eight lane thoroughfare beside the Planetarium was closed off to make room for a stage, 8000 plastic garden chairs (none chained down) placed onto the traffic lanes and a couple of giant screens - for the spectators in the back of the 8000 chairs.
No parking problem whats-o-ever, everybody walks, cane or no cane, young or old...
Dressed for expected heat, Buenos Aires provided one of it's regular tricks, as it turned 'fresh' as soon as I found a chair, back from the first giant screen. The prime locations were already occupied by keen spectators. I pulled my light top around my neck and tried to keep warm.
Orderly quiet, almost 'Canadian' in their well mannered way, Portenos wait for the show to start. A concession to Christmas....advertising for Shopping Night in the background.
As a note of interest: there are no in-your-face Christmas decorations in the streets, and I have yet to hear a Christmas carol.
The Master of Ceremonies announced the line up for the Evening: Raul Lavie, Jose 'Pepe' Colangelo, Gloria y Eduardo, Amelita Baltar Y Pablo Argi, Juan Jose Mosalini, Maria Grana con Esteban Morgando, Juan Carlos Copes, Raul Garello, Horacio Ferrer, Alberto Podesta, Juan Carlos Godoy, Nicolas Ledesma.
This may sound like nothing to readers uninitiated to tango MUSIC and Poetry, versus Dance-with-the-Stars Hollywood tango, but....for tangoistas it represents the equivalent of Glen Gould, Louis Armstrong, Maria Callas and Segovia.
Except these artists are still alive...albeit well advanced into their Golden Years.
The show started, dancing, singing, instrumentals...
I sat in front of a family with one small - very active - young boy, who seemed to attract every other toddler in the vicinity (there were many). Result, the little ones took advantage of the space left between rows of chairs, and put on their own show. Not often that tykes like that can dance in the middle of traffic lanes to their hearts content.
A relatively young pianist playing Piazolla.
A moaning, sobbing bandoneon, a signature instrument of traditional tango music.
89 years old, but interpreting the haunting songs with deep feeling - and fighting the roar of a jet engine of a departing plane from the near by city airport...
A 85 year old tango lyrics poet and singer. Three old ladies sitting beside me quietly whispered and sang every word together with his rendition.
....how about thousands of people wiping tears of their faces and bursting into deafening applause at the end of his heart wrenching delivery of a tango story dealing with - what else - pain and loss.
A fitting finale for an unforgettable evening - Fireworks!
My movies captured the spectacular display set of in time to a passionate tango, however, only a couple of still photos make it into the Blog. I have not been able to upload my videos for your listning and viewing pleasure.
Rest assured - as impressive as Butchard Gardens, with as many ooohs and aaahs, and deafening bursts of light and sound. With one difference: The background music is pure Argentinian Tango.
Well, not a bad welcome to the city for yours truly, eh?
I walked home, only a few blocks, at around 11 p.m.
So did all the other thousands of people: little children traipsing along at the hand of their parents, old couples marching quickly despite their canes, teenagers showing off their energy, middle aged ladies in slippers - no one using a car.
Along Sarmiento to Libertad, where I giant monument (one of hundreds in Buenos Aires) changed illumination from pink, to red, to blue, to white in time to the traffic lights.
Across the intersection an along the baroque portals and wrought iron fence of the Zoo, dark and mostly quiet at this time of the night. A heavy scent of animal dung mingled with the aroma of flowering trees.
A sudden stop in the pilgrimage beside one section of the fence...chattering and squealing sounds from the darkness. Everyone peeked through the foliage and the bars of the fence towards the resident herd of flamingos, all bunches together in a mass of faded pink spheres.
Past the exhibition buildings of The Rural, and to Plaza Italia and along Borges, my street.
Under the canopy of trees, stepping around dog droppings, watching pigeons drinking from the residue of water left behind by daily hosing of the side walks, and listening to the rattle of the jalousies of convenience stores closing down for the night, I reached home - still surrounded by contented locals going....for dinner.
