The South Side

I mentioned the Pulitzer prize winning photos at the Newseum in one of my previous posts.

Here's one of my favourite photos from the collection. It was taken by photographer John White for a series on inner-city life in Chicago. It's a great picture that really captures the rhythm and life to have come out of some of the bleakest projects in America. This particular project is in Cabrini-Green on the south-side and was home to some of the most notorious gangs of the 1980s. The contrast created between the smiling kids and the bombed out building looming in the background changed people's perception of inner-city desolation when it was published in the Chicago Sun-Times in 1983. I love the energy of this shot and the angle is really effective - also the building in the background just seems to go on and on.

While we're on the subject of good photos, my sister has a pretty amazing collection. Check out her photo blog here.

London's last racer

This term we're working on features - our first assignment was a profile piece so I decided to interview a pigeon racer. Heres the article:

Albert Stratton has 80 pigeons, 56 medals, and two bird sheds. His garden isn’t much bigger than a bus shelter but over the years he’s bred more than 200 of London’s favourite pests.

He doesn’t just breed them. He races them. “Back in the day I was a force to be reckoned with!” he exclaims. “All them plaques up there - we boshed them! Cups and everything! We really gave them a run for their money.”

It’s true. The window sill is jammed with shiny dove effigies and bird busts. Instead of family photos there is a keepsake box with the homing pigeons’ ankle rings. When I ask about his children Albert pauses for a second: “Kids? Oh yeah. I’ve got one pest at university.” The humour passes him right by.

Pigeon racing is a dying sport and with it go Albert’s friends. “When I started in 1983, there were over 20 of us at the clubhouse. Now there are only three left.” He looks up at the heavy sky waiting for the answer to drop down and lighten his load. “It’s just Ixy, Smivvy and me… We’re old now, that’s the trouble.”

Two years ago Albert had a stroke; his left leg straggles behind the rest of his body and he uses a walking stick to get around. He leaves one at the bottom of the stairs and one outside the back door next to the lofts. Albert, 64, used to be a plumber but these days getting up and dressed is a morning’s work.

“I spend more time with the pigeons now.  It gives me something to do.” As he struggles to get off the loft step he lets out a frustrated sigh. It’s the first time I hear him complain and he masks his words in a whisper. “I tell you, what you don’t want is a stroke. It’s completely debilitating.”

Bienvenidos!

I suddenly got inspired by my talented blogging friend, Cara, to write another post. (to see her blog, click here)

Now I know this is coming out of left field after you've been mourning my absence for so long, but there is nothing so strong as procrastination.

And don't worry dear readers (again, my mum, maybe my flatmates this time) readjusting to regular blog posts will go smoothly - I'll ease you in - which may also mean it'll be another six months until I post again. But that sure is something to look forward to...

It's been a while so there really isn't time for an update.  Suffice to say I've traded the emerald green, bath-like, starfish filled waters of the Caribbean for London in the winter. Doesn't sound like a fair exchange? I thought you'd say that, but I'm actually very happy to be back in London.

I got back in September and when it's not raining at least, I remember what a great city it truly is. There's so much going on all the time - nowhere else compares in that way. That doesn't mean I won't be Mexico City bound in the future. But for now, I can say it's nice to be back.

I'm working on my trade - journalism - which is a bit of an oxymoron, and I hope to get a job when my course is over. But from what I hear, it's a bad time.

Anyway, welcome back one and all. Look out for future posts - I may put up some articles I've been working on recently. It's nice to see you again.

Hasta Luego!
- Gaucho Gil

On the Prowl

I'm not the first to moan about house hunting in London, and I certainly won't be the last I can tell you that. "Its only going to get worse" says the woman at Thompson Currie. "The students are flooding in..." says Mr. Foxtons, as he licks his chops and skims the list. The dooms day prophecy shakes the walls of the office, a few papers fall to the floor. I hope my house has more solid foundations. But that's unlikely on a student budget. And if it's not solid walls, its a 'bedroom-livingroom-kitchen conversion.' I never did like to take dinner in my room, but if its a top floor property at least there won't be rats.

I've scraped the streets of London for estate agents. I make 30 phone calls a day. And I'm lucky if I get one viewing. It's a full time job. No one can afford to buy right now so the entire city is tethered to their rentals.

Today I told my latest estate agent - and hence, newest best friend - that I was becoming so familiar with the business that I might take it up. At least then I could afford a house.

But really. Who am I to complain? We all face the ugly housing market at some point in our lives, and we're never told it's getting any better. So what's the trick? Are these 11th hour pronouncement a ruse or is the shortage, truly, going to leave me homeless tomorrow? Either way the agents have me wrapped around their little finger. I don't want to take the risk. Tomorrow I'm optioning a garage. All they need to do is add the word, 'conversion' and I'm there.

Going Viral

I'm tweet tweet tweet twittering now, because a little birdie told me to. I'm learning all sorts of things like the social capital of a #, and the broadcasting potential of an @. I also know that Katy Perry is "back in Canada and FULL of VITAMINS" and I'm happy to report that President Chavez is THIS excited about football: "Ayayayyyyyyyy Paraguay.... Gooooooooooooooooooooooooooolllllllllllllllllllll!! Viva Venezuela!!"

I've already been publically shamed by a fellow tweeter, so my whole twitter universe now knows to address me as "Weeny." Luckily, it only consists of five followers. Not all news travels fast on the blogosphere.

But you'll know when "Weeny" goes viral.

Life Sentence

James Varone at Gaston County Jail. Photo: Ben Goff/The Gaston Gazette

If this doesn't make the point for national health care in the United States, nothing ever will. James Varone, of North Carolina, held up a bank for $1. He is now in jail. But he finally got what he wanted: A meeting with a nurse and an appointment with a doctor.

As told by Ed Pilkington of The Guardian: US Man Stages $1 Bank Robbery to get State Health Care

Holy Moley

In keeping with this blogs theme, I thought it was only fair to find some friends for Gaucho Gil on my travels. A cowboy's gotsta work hard to keep a woman - hardly a surprise given that his saintly ladies really do hang out in the strangest of places...

Staying holy under the trees [small village, Amazon Rainforest, Brazil]

An airport shrine - for the fearless only [Leticia Airport, Colombia]

Keepin' night drivers safe since 1989 [roadside, Colombia]

These saints just gave up and took off all their clothes [Mompox, Colombia]

Papa Americano

In lieu of finding the words to describe the past six months traveling up from Buenos Aires to Nicaragua (I honestly can't remember any, Spanish or otherwise) I'm going to begin with a numbered list. And pictures. In no particular order:

1. Boat Crash in the Amazon. The Brazilian civil defense unit eventually kick into action and we're rescued by an aircraft carrier... eight days later.

2. Hot Sauce

can never get enough

3. I like big butts and I cannot lie: Anything and everything in Rio.

Ipanema Beach

Jesus Walks...

Wouldn't you?

4. Working hard at The Naked Tiger

The hardest workers the hostel has ever seen

5.  Finding a Lost City

La Ciudad Perdida, Colombia

6. Sailing the San Blas

Jump in

7. Anything PHat. And yeah, that's with a PH.

Colombia's most famous artist likes all things PHat

8. Street Parties, Southern hemisphere styleeeee

Lapa Street Party, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

9. Sunsets and beaches (including tandem canoe trips as seen below)

Playa Blanca, Cartagena, Colombia

10. Papa Americano. I heard this song once a day without fail - for an entire year.
 

The Dog Ate My Homework

I'm not going to make any excuses for my absence as of late because I just don't have the words. (honestly, I've forgotten how to write). Instead, I'm hoping this will say it all. 182 days (six months if you're into numbers) of this. With some productivity thrown in there for good measure...

San Blas Islands, snapped during a five day sailing trip from Colombia to Panama

The Modern Day Saints

Last article for The Argentina Independent:

Soldiers of God on a Mission. Virreyes, Buenos Aires (photo: Kate Redburn)

God's soldiers have arrived on Argentine turf. Self proclaimed 'Modern Day Saints', the Mormon missionaries of Buenos Aires trawl the streets of the city for converts. They preach on the Subte. They preach on the buses. They preach in the rain. And when they hear no, they preach some more.

B.A. is home to three Mormon missions; and South America is currently playing garden of Eden to 50 different missions, populated with solid mid-Western stock; young men with glowing white teeth and an urgent message to share. I trekked down to the Virreyes Mission in the North of the City to hear it from the experts... Click here to learn how to do it, Missionary Style. 

Santa's Little Helpers

It's summer in the southern hemisphere. Which not only mean's I'm sporting a tan (this has become a scary life goal), but also means that Christmas has just passed. Christmas isn't exactly on the agenda here - other than British expats flooding the beaches wearing santa hats (and I'll be honest here, I did the same), it seemed to pass without much note. But the good news is that Christmas elves never stop needing the loo. Northpole or not.

A Christmas elf in Bosques de Palermo Park, Buenos Aires

The Villas: The Sheratoncita

Slum tourism is a really buzz topic right now, as the favelas of Brazil welcome in busloads of visitors each day and the movie, Slum Dog Millionaire, suddenly made the shantytowns of Mumbai a tourist must-see. There are so many facets of the industry and so many faces involved:

Carlos Adrien outside The Sheratoncita

Carlos Adrien lives in Villa 31, the biggest shanty town in Buenos Aires. As Villa 31 is organizing itself into an established community with it's own governing system and an explosion of wrought iron houses instead of cardboard, he has decided to convert his own house into a hotel. Cleverly named the Sheratoncita, he certainly doesn't promise anything less... To read, A Weekend at the Villa: The Sheratoncita Hotel, click here.

(Photo: Shooresh Fezoni for The Argentina Independent)

The Villas: A Leg-Up

Of everything I have done for The Argentina Independent,  I think my favourite articles are the ones I wrote for the Villa series. I came across the stories on my first week here, so I was very glad when I finally found the contacts.

Guido Fuentes and the models on the rooftops of Villa 31

Guido Fuentes is a Bolivian hairdresser who runs a beauty school out of his kitchen in the biggest shanty town of Buenos Aires. The girls, age 11-22, put on fashion shows and do photo shoots in the Villa and beyond. Guido's unwavering sternness is the perfect anecdote to the energetic gaggle of models that flood his kitchen each week with make-up and costume demands to the max. To read the article, A Leg-Up: Catwalk Classes in Villa 31, click here.

A Hippy Haven

El Aldea is an ecocommunity hidden deep in the concrete jungle of Buenos Aires. Wedged between highrises and an airport, under a sky of smog, sits this Utopian community devoted to recycling and organic farming. I went a couple of times in order to write my article. I of course stood out like a sore thumb, but it wasn't long before I was eating a 'raw' cake made from ingredients gathered from dumpsters, and reveling barefoot with the best of them. The real clincher was right before lunch when we touched palms and closed our eyes in thanks - for about twenty minutes. Luckily the food was delicious. (To read my article click here)

...Can't you tell?

The Hit List

Everyone knows BA is all about the nightlife. In a city where dinner starts at 11pm, and work doesn't begin until lunchtime, that's hardly a surprise. In fact, beyond sitting in the park and the obligatory (though very interesting) tourist attractions, there is not that much else to do. Which is a good thing when you find yourself stumbling home as the sun comes up, day after day.


Where to go:

Club Niceto

It may be a familiar stop off on the Buenos Aires whistle stop tour but I've never had a bad night here. Some big time bands play too, and they have the mix of grime, trend and pure cheesyness down to a tee. Then again I haven't ever hit their infamous Club 69 which includes a drag show, a cabaret room and a stage devoted to hip-hop...

Club Niceto, Niceto Vega 5510

Latin Jam

For the Latin inside all of us. Latin Jam is definitely my favourite night in Buenos Aires. The live band would give any swing club a run for it's money, but the actual dancing is lacking. Nevertheless, it's as close as you're ever gonna get in BA. Sadly, my salsa dancing hasn't got any better. But that's not exactly a surprise when the average customer sports a fedora. A real shame to say the least. 

Latin Jam at Uniclub, Guardia Vieja 2260

Le Bar

The music is hit or miss as it mostly consists of new live bands or an open mic, but the low lighting and suave decor more than makes up for it. The drinks are good which helps, and it's a great, if somewhat surreal spot for lunch in the middle of the day. But hey, in the city that never sleeps, why should the bars?
Le Bar, Tucumán 422




Where not to go:

Le Cigale

This bar is really the reason why I am writing this post. I am currently awake and hungover in the middle of the night due to the worst drink I have ever had. Despite a two for one happy hour, which should be making the customers happy, I feel like I was fed turpentine. And that was just one drink. Don't go here. If that hasn't scared you away perhaps the fruit fly decor will (the walls, menu, signs, etc are embossed with images of fruit flies. It's unclear why, but ill-advised nonetheless).

For my pick of the TOP FIVE TERRACE BARS of Buenos Aires, check out my article here

Snapped

My favourite art books are photography compendiums - heavy coffee table collections where the grainy faces stare out from the pages with the same immediacy as the moment they were caught on camera.

The Family of Man is a really classic collection. The photos are completely timeless and the beautiful images make up a groundbreaking series that set the scene for the development of photojournalism as an art - which raises a whole new host of questions. If you are interested in this debate, visit the Pulitzer Prize Photography exhibition at the Newseum in Washington, D.C.. The photos are jarring, and there is a series of short interviews with some of the winners who discuss how they captured the event on film, and what it feels like to have their image - often a private moment of pain and suffering - achieve international acclaim.

On This Site is an eerie series of now vacant landscapes where heinous crimes once occurred. Thumbing through is uncomfortably compelling. The unsettling experience speaks to the power of photos beyond the image, and it presents an interesting alternative to the frozen action of photojournalism.

A photography book that thrives on words as much as images is Homeless. Portraits of street-dwellers in San Francisco are accompanied by the words of the subjects themselves. They range from schizophrenic rants on being chased by the FBI, to heartrending tales of abandonment, abuse and escape. Sometimes it is hard to discern between the two, and the photographer offers no further explanation, save the weary faces of the subjects.


To India With Love is a visual explosion that combines snazzy graphic design with artistic motifs and classic photographs. The book is a sensory treat that captures the vibrant colors, fragrant smells and exotic sounds of India between it's pages. The collection is designed as homage to the nation in the wake of the Mumbai terrorist attacks,and the pages are punctuated with 'love letters' from actors, artists and designers who have fallen in love with the country. Perhaps an overly nostalgic and unrealistic view of India, the book nevertheless captures the ongoing romance and optimism of a country so rich in history and tradition, as it enters the modern world, full throttle.

In Case You Felt Rushed

Today was a national holiday in Buenos Aires in accordance with the new Bank Holiday Law. The city was off work, and the banks weren't functioning; hardly ground breaking news. On the other hand, there were no national protests blocking traffic, so for once everyone could actually make it to work.

President Cristina Fernández de Kirchner circumvented Congress with a presidential decree in order to increase the number of 'feriados' or bank holidays per year. It was obviously a matter of national urgency, which is all too obvious in a country where ordering a coffee takes a whole day and the parks look like fairgrounds - on a monday. Nevertheless it was an important political move: I'm never one to pass judgement. Click here to read why.

And when you're done, here are a couple snap shots of park life in Buenos Aires. Yeah, wish you were here?

This is how we do it, do it! Excercise Class, BA styleeee

uno, dos, TRES! Work it muchachas!

Just a regular park day

For the Latin Lover in you. Or, if you're lucky, for your Latin Lover.

This is tame for BA Roller Bladers. Usually they're an army on wheels.

And of course...there's always time for spotting a mullet!

A Review of Reviews

A few weeks ago I went to La Embajada Bar to write a review for the 54 Historical Bars series in the paper. It was a complete dump and I totally wouldn't recommend it. Thats why you should totally read my review.

And if we're talking reviews, here's a quick round up of the first glacier museum in Latin America, opening this week in Argentina. I didn't actually go because it's miles away in Southern Patagonia, but I did write a review of the man behind the endeavour. Click here to decide for yourself whether that was worthwhile.

A Hallow's Eve Past

So. Halloween may have come and gone. But I don't exactly move with the times (you may have gathered that when all my blog entries appeared on the same day). Even so, here's a little something to get you in the mood, or at least remind of you of spooky times, long gone.

My offering for The Argentina Independent's Top 5 Section. And you all thought I wanted to be a serious journalist.

With Recoleta Cemetery gracing the cover of many guidebooks, Buenos Aires has always existed along side the dead. But lurking behind every postcard is a far spookier past. Presenting the cities’ top five haunted places; a tour through the legends of the underworld, as told by the spirits themselves… (click to read on)

Recoleta Cemetary: Buenos' Aires' very own city of the dead

Where the Heart Is

If there's anything I've learnt since being in Argentina, its how much I love, love, LOVE Mexico. I definitely want to live in Mexico one day; it's so spirited and so Latin. A whirl of bright colors, spicy smells, zesty rhythms, endless energy. Its become a mild (more than mild) obsession since arriving here, much to the dismay of my friends who have been subjected to the below song on repeat, for weeks on end now. I think this passage from a Lonely Planet sums it up perfectly, and is a really good piece of writing.

Be careful: Veracruz is intoxicating. Scantily clad, she adorns herself in sea shells, permeates car exhaust and casually testifies her sordid colonial past. She’ll gladly share her last taco with you and just as gladly take your last peso. Usually you’ll find her swiveling to salsa, boozing, or laughing at her own joke. She gives her inhabitants, the ever-proud and doggedly faithful jarochos, a place to fall in love on her sweltering shores saturated with mariachis, seaside cafés, trova, and explosive sunsets. And for the broken-hearted, she offers miles of coastline boulevard for solitary rambling – save during her raucous Carnaval, which rocks Mexico. Whatever the case may be, Veracruz, both regal and trashy, could make even the most stoic bloke wax poetic.

I love this piece of writing - the personification of Veracruz is so evocative; sharing her last taco, and taking your last peso, her sordid colonial past, regal and trashy, etc I think it's great, and if it doesn't make you want to go to Mexico I don't know what will. I could go on.













While we're on the subject, check out this song; it also fits perfectly. The fact that it's just off tune makes it even better.