"he wondered whether he could write a poem to express his idea. perhaps gallaher might be able to get it into some london paper for him. could he write something original? he was not sure what idea he wished to express but the thought that a poetic moment had touched him took life within him like an infant hope. he stepped onward bravely. every step brought him nearer to london, farther from his own sober inartistic life."
from "a little cloud"
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Monday, October 22, 2007
a serious inquiry into the true meaning of devotion (solely with its relation to the life of a sports fanatic)
over the mere twenty two years that i have lived, i have always been a sports fan. i remember at an early age going to a very cold and windy candlestick park with nana and papa, bundled in jackets and beanies, to watch the 49ers play. i remember giants games at candlestick and a's games at the coliseum. i remember super bowl games and playoff disappointments. i remember lineups and statistics. i think it would be safe to say that i have wasted parts of my memory on sports. i could have used this space inside my head for economics, sat words, the spanish langauge, and probably many other useful skills or tidbits of knowledge. and yet the strange thing about my little sports mania problem is that it would hardly be considered a problem in buenos aires.
my devotion to sports is a fleeting as the cal bears' recent success in the top 25. the life of a sports fanatic in buenos aires takes a much different form. beneath a blazing argentine sun, matt and i made our way out to boca to see the legendary boca stadium and watch boca juniors play infront of the most maniacal fans on earth. the streets of boca were lined with police. the sun lit the dark blue and bright yellow striped stadium. the green, red, pink, blue and purple houses surrounding the stadium instilled energy among all the fans. matt and i opted for the safest seats we could find. unlike any sporting game i have ever attended, the expensive seats are high and the cheap seats are on the field. the difference being: if any celebrity like matt damon or jack nicholson, kate hudson or owen wilson sat on the field, they would be seriously risking their lives. this is the key difference that must be grapsed when understanding the craziness of argentine futbol. the stadium puts all the tourists up top for their safety. so matt and i paid more to sit farther away, but walk away with our lives and bodies intact.
after making our trek to the top of the stadium, we watched the end of boca's youth team play. the fanaticos were starting to warm up. flags and banners lined the stadium. blue and yellow were as common as starbucks in san francisco. when boca juniors took the field, the stadium erupted with newspaer confetti, drums pounding and songs echo across the walls. this was only the beginning. during the next ninety minutes of futbol, the songs only grew louder and the drum beat furiously. on the other side of the stadium at the very top sat a small section of black and red dressed estudiantes fans. when estudiantes struck first with a shocking goal, the estudiantes fans went loco. they danced and cheered as loud as the boca fans. but when boca equalized in the second half, the stadium shook. the concrete moved to rhythym of the dance induced earthquake. the fans rushed forward to the gates that gripped the ground and separated the players on the field from incoming chaos and madness.
the devotion of boca fans is unquestioned. their song thundered despite being down a goal for most the game. i saw fathers hoisting their sons in these sections admidst the madness to jump and sing along. to be a boca fan is to be born a boca fan. most of boca is a very poor neighborhood. boca juniors carries the hope of a broken community. futbol is the pride of boca. the life in their songs. the joy in their dance. and the twelth man (the name of the fans) shakes their arms as one showing the solidarity of their devotion.
the boca hymn:
“Boca Juniors; Boca Juniors, you great soccer champion – you who awaken love, enthusiasm and faith in our chests. Your blue and golden banner was unfurled in Europe as a triumphant emblem, wherever it was called on to fight.
Boca is our victorious chant, for never is it afraid to fight ; Boca is enthusiasm and valor, Boca…move forward to prevail….
With your victorious emblem, in colors gold and blue, our vigorous youth waxes enthusiastic on the pitch….. Your colors electrify, triumphant Old Boca, and your battlefields cover you with glory.
Boca is our victorious chant, for never is it afraid to fight ; Boca is enthusiasm and valor, Boca…move forward to prevail…."
my devotion to sports is a fleeting as the cal bears' recent success in the top 25. the life of a sports fanatic in buenos aires takes a much different form. beneath a blazing argentine sun, matt and i made our way out to boca to see the legendary boca stadium and watch boca juniors play infront of the most maniacal fans on earth. the streets of boca were lined with police. the sun lit the dark blue and bright yellow striped stadium. the green, red, pink, blue and purple houses surrounding the stadium instilled energy among all the fans. matt and i opted for the safest seats we could find. unlike any sporting game i have ever attended, the expensive seats are high and the cheap seats are on the field. the difference being: if any celebrity like matt damon or jack nicholson, kate hudson or owen wilson sat on the field, they would be seriously risking their lives. this is the key difference that must be grapsed when understanding the craziness of argentine futbol. the stadium puts all the tourists up top for their safety. so matt and i paid more to sit farther away, but walk away with our lives and bodies intact.
after making our trek to the top of the stadium, we watched the end of boca's youth team play. the fanaticos were starting to warm up. flags and banners lined the stadium. blue and yellow were as common as starbucks in san francisco. when boca juniors took the field, the stadium erupted with newspaer confetti, drums pounding and songs echo across the walls. this was only the beginning. during the next ninety minutes of futbol, the songs only grew louder and the drum beat furiously. on the other side of the stadium at the very top sat a small section of black and red dressed estudiantes fans. when estudiantes struck first with a shocking goal, the estudiantes fans went loco. they danced and cheered as loud as the boca fans. but when boca equalized in the second half, the stadium shook. the concrete moved to rhythym of the dance induced earthquake. the fans rushed forward to the gates that gripped the ground and separated the players on the field from incoming chaos and madness.
the devotion of boca fans is unquestioned. their song thundered despite being down a goal for most the game. i saw fathers hoisting their sons in these sections admidst the madness to jump and sing along. to be a boca fan is to be born a boca fan. most of boca is a very poor neighborhood. boca juniors carries the hope of a broken community. futbol is the pride of boca. the life in their songs. the joy in their dance. and the twelth man (the name of the fans) shakes their arms as one showing the solidarity of their devotion.
the boca hymn:
“Boca Juniors; Boca Juniors, you great soccer champion – you who awaken love, enthusiasm and faith in our chests. Your blue and golden banner was unfurled in Europe as a triumphant emblem, wherever it was called on to fight.
Boca is our victorious chant, for never is it afraid to fight ; Boca is enthusiasm and valor, Boca…move forward to prevail….
With your victorious emblem, in colors gold and blue, our vigorous youth waxes enthusiastic on the pitch….. Your colors electrify, triumphant Old Boca, and your battlefields cover you with glory.
Boca is our victorious chant, for never is it afraid to fight ; Boca is enthusiasm and valor, Boca…move forward to prevail…."
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
captain stephen jackson
i must say also that even though i am in buenos aires, i am very excited for the upcoming golden state warriors season and even more thrilled to see stephen jackson named as a captain.
quote from espn.com: "Webster's Dictionary defines a captain as "a person of importance or influence in a field." Stephen Jackson's past might not have put him in that category, but his future certainly will."
the wonder of delivered ice cream
the weekend was sunny, but now rain has crept back into buenos aires. it is actually hard to say the rain creeps in here. the recent thunder echoed like cannons and the lightning illuminated our living room. when it rains, it pours. october in buenos aires is not much different than october in northern california. some brisk sunny mornings and some dark, cloudy and rainy days. although, spring should be arriving shortly. october usually means pumpkins and post season baseball. last night, mark and i huddled around his computer to watch the yankees and indians play game 4 in new york. we argued about calls mainly due to the distorted picture on our computer screen. mark sold his soul to the devil for a small price and became a new york yankee fan. (side note: we were called "yankees" at a party on saturday night by some argentines. so, i corrected them saying, "no, mark is a yankee" and needless to say, this is one of many jokes that are lost in translation.)
on this rainy monday evening in buenos aires, our stomachs cried for ice cream (helado). buenos aires ice cream is unbelievable. it would be injust to even attempt a description of how wonderful this ice cream is. our refigerator is decorated with a rainbow colored assortment of magnetic advertisements. after reading an orange magnet about how much ice cream we could rceive for only a few pesos, our appetites were searching for the nearest phone. we gave into our heart's deepest desire like a bunch of first graders on a hot summer day willing to break open their piggy banks. calling in an order is a very scary thing to do as it has to be done in castellano. usually, mark has the duties as our fluent castellano speaker. bravely, no, sacrificially, i volunteered my castellano skills to bring this forbidden ice cream home to our apartment and better assist our baseball watching. with the phone shaking in my hands, i begin to dial the numbers. 4...8...3...1... i quickly hung up the phone, heart pounding, sweaty palms as if i was going to ask a girl out, realizing i did not know what flavors we wanted. after a lengthing dissertation, we settled on four flavor. frambuesa (raspberry), tramontana (not sure, but good), mousse de chocolate, and dulce de leche. i wiped the sweat from my brow, tightened my grip on the plastic casing of the phone and my fingers steadied to enter the digits. worried that it may be too late, i soon discovered that it is never too late in the evening for ice cream. i slowly conveyed our desired flavors and even though the man on the other end may have been slightly irritated with my castellano, i was able to hang up the phone a new hero in our apartment. not even the rain could stop the ice cream man's delivery (the rain actually did stop the internet company from coming one day). our bell rang in about twenty minutes and in shock, the three of us (mark, andrew and i) scrambled off the couch to find our spare change as if the ice cream man may leave for another block any minute now. mark stayed glued to the computer watching the slow demise of his yankee dynasty. the ice cream was in a cylindrical, white foam container. this ice cream could be the eighth wonder of the world. the yankees lost. a rainy night in buenos aires.
on this rainy monday evening in buenos aires, our stomachs cried for ice cream (helado). buenos aires ice cream is unbelievable. it would be injust to even attempt a description of how wonderful this ice cream is. our refigerator is decorated with a rainbow colored assortment of magnetic advertisements. after reading an orange magnet about how much ice cream we could rceive for only a few pesos, our appetites were searching for the nearest phone. we gave into our heart's deepest desire like a bunch of first graders on a hot summer day willing to break open their piggy banks. calling in an order is a very scary thing to do as it has to be done in castellano. usually, mark has the duties as our fluent castellano speaker. bravely, no, sacrificially, i volunteered my castellano skills to bring this forbidden ice cream home to our apartment and better assist our baseball watching. with the phone shaking in my hands, i begin to dial the numbers. 4...8...3...1... i quickly hung up the phone, heart pounding, sweaty palms as if i was going to ask a girl out, realizing i did not know what flavors we wanted. after a lengthing dissertation, we settled on four flavor. frambuesa (raspberry), tramontana (not sure, but good), mousse de chocolate, and dulce de leche. i wiped the sweat from my brow, tightened my grip on the plastic casing of the phone and my fingers steadied to enter the digits. worried that it may be too late, i soon discovered that it is never too late in the evening for ice cream. i slowly conveyed our desired flavors and even though the man on the other end may have been slightly irritated with my castellano, i was able to hang up the phone a new hero in our apartment. not even the rain could stop the ice cream man's delivery (the rain actually did stop the internet company from coming one day). our bell rang in about twenty minutes and in shock, the three of us (mark, andrew and i) scrambled off the couch to find our spare change as if the ice cream man may leave for another block any minute now. mark stayed glued to the computer watching the slow demise of his yankee dynasty. the ice cream was in a cylindrical, white foam container. this ice cream could be the eighth wonder of the world. the yankees lost. a rainy night in buenos aires.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
quiet monday afternoons
mondays in buenos aires are almost as slow as sundays. many shops are closed and the streets are not too busy. the city feels as if it has dozed off for a nap. the air outside on monday was cold and crisp much like a sunny winter morning back home. a soft breeze blew on our faces as mark, andrew and i began searching for the hidden bike stores of buenos aires. the subway dropped us near one bike store where i tried to communicate that we were looking for used road bikes. it took a lot of hand motions and broken spanish (or castellana as the argentines say) before we saw our first used road bike. the bike was a classic, from the seventies, but out of our price range. our attempts to find the other bike stores were futile. either the internet lied or these stores no longer existed, most likely the latter. although, the internet has lied to us several times about directions.
our wanderings led us to the polo grounds, where there seemed to be an upcoming horse race. we walked beneath the overpass and beside walls of rainbow colored graffiti. as we walked up a small street, covered in shade from the trees overhead, mark spotted a black, rusted one speed bike. the bike immediately grabbed his imagination as the bike he would want to ride. we set off hoping to find such a bike. mark stopped and decided he woud leave a note in the spokes for the owner. andrew and i waited for mark to return, but after about ten minutes, we were growing impatient. as andrew and i arrived back by the old, black bike, we found mark inside the store talking to the owner. the locksmith store was small, but operated by five men, probably best friends who enjoyed arguing about futbol and politics.
mark soon had struck a deal with the store owner and while he gleefully went to search for a bank, andrew and i stayed to chat with these men, who were very interested in these young american boys. they asked us what we thought of argentina so far. we love this country. they asked what we thought of president bush. before i could answer, fredericko let me know what he thought. fredericko spoke the most with us. fredericko is a few inches shorter than i am with slicked black hair and golden teeth. he was wearing a red striped adidas jacket and nike shoes. he spoke much like italian mobsters i remember from the movies, very passionate and with large arm movements. fredericko was not too fond of president bush or the woman that will soon become president of argentina. he gave bush a thumbs down, jfk a thumbs up and clinton was asi-asi (so so). i think it was largely dependent on who had visited argentina. andrew soon struck up a conversation about futbol with fredericko. i filled in parts of mising vocabulary for andrew, but mostly the love of sports replaced our language deficiencies.
mark returned with his money and we left the shop with smiles and warm handshakes. andrew and i were extremely excited about the conversations we were able to sustain with these men in the shop. the men in the shop were extremely excited to lend us advice about the city and where we had to visit while staying in argentina. a great way for us to spend a quiet monday afternoon. andrew and i left for home on the subway, while mark rolled away on his new, old, black bike.
our wanderings led us to the polo grounds, where there seemed to be an upcoming horse race. we walked beneath the overpass and beside walls of rainbow colored graffiti. as we walked up a small street, covered in shade from the trees overhead, mark spotted a black, rusted one speed bike. the bike immediately grabbed his imagination as the bike he would want to ride. we set off hoping to find such a bike. mark stopped and decided he woud leave a note in the spokes for the owner. andrew and i waited for mark to return, but after about ten minutes, we were growing impatient. as andrew and i arrived back by the old, black bike, we found mark inside the store talking to the owner. the locksmith store was small, but operated by five men, probably best friends who enjoyed arguing about futbol and politics.
mark soon had struck a deal with the store owner and while he gleefully went to search for a bank, andrew and i stayed to chat with these men, who were very interested in these young american boys. they asked us what we thought of argentina so far. we love this country. they asked what we thought of president bush. before i could answer, fredericko let me know what he thought. fredericko spoke the most with us. fredericko is a few inches shorter than i am with slicked black hair and golden teeth. he was wearing a red striped adidas jacket and nike shoes. he spoke much like italian mobsters i remember from the movies, very passionate and with large arm movements. fredericko was not too fond of president bush or the woman that will soon become president of argentina. he gave bush a thumbs down, jfk a thumbs up and clinton was asi-asi (so so). i think it was largely dependent on who had visited argentina. andrew soon struck up a conversation about futbol with fredericko. i filled in parts of mising vocabulary for andrew, but mostly the love of sports replaced our language deficiencies.
mark returned with his money and we left the shop with smiles and warm handshakes. andrew and i were extremely excited about the conversations we were able to sustain with these men in the shop. the men in the shop were extremely excited to lend us advice about the city and where we had to visit while staying in argentina. a great way for us to spend a quiet monday afternoon. andrew and i left for home on the subway, while mark rolled away on his new, old, black bike.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
hope. live. roof.
after a week in buenos aires, i could see that my only hope would to be able to live with a roof over my head. the search for an apartment has been extremely difficult. without the assistance of mark ¨stars¨ arrieta and his wonderful spanish, we would be in the dark altogether and all together. i am in an internet place and in a couple minutes, we are going to walk down the street to sign on our place. finding a place for seven was an impossible task, so stars, mark, andrew and i will all be living together. aaron, brian and ben are still working on landing their place. i have to head out. i´ll storytell a little later. hasta luego!
Monday, September 17, 2007
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