Evan’s World
Evan’s World
Girl, Where’d you get that house!?
Friday, September 16, 2005
The weather didn’t fulfill it’s promise today, so we put off going to the river delta. We figured it’s not a good idea when it is cold and rainy to be on a boat. So instead we took a train to the town of Lujan, about 60 miles outside of Buenos Aires.
To know a little Spanish is a necessity but also a liability. When you so proudly use that bit of Spanish, others assume there is more where that came from. Figuring out how to manage the train station was a great example. Robert’s ¬Quisieramos ir a Lujan, donde compramos los boletos?¬(We would like to go to Lujan, where do we buy tickets?) brought a slurry of Spanish explanation with lots of pointing and hand gestures. So whenever someone pointed in a direction, we just went in that direction until we could ask someone else. Then we«‘ follow their pointing until we finally found a ticket agent who spoke some English. The Spanish here isn’t like the staccato machine-gun fired Spanish you hear at home. It has the musical quality of Italian due to the influence of large numbers of Italian immigrants. If you didn’t know it was Spanish, you might even think it was Italian because of the cadence. Add to that the fact that people talk with their hands in broad gestures makes it even more so.
The train ride itself showed us just how big Buenos Aires really is. The first hour was all within the city. The neighborhoods varied greatly: suburban middle class mixed with tin-shack shanties built by the homeless. Brightly colored graffiti murals adorned abandoned warehouses along the way. Trash accumulated in large piles nearly the whole way. Train tracks seem to attract these kinds of scenes whether it is a train through India, the Bronx or Buenos Aires.
Lujan is small and quiet and legend has it that an ox cart carrying a small terra cotta statue of the virgin Mary got stuck in the mud. The cart wouldn’t move until it’s devine cargo was unloaded. The owner took this as a sign that maybe he should stay put so he built a small chapel for his little Madonna. Today, his little Madonna has a fantastic upgrade to an imposing French gothic cathedral: La Basilica Nuestra Se–ora de Lujan. It is the ultimate upgrade imaginable. She also got upgraded to Argentina’s patron saint. As soon as we got off the train we saw the spires towering above the town. It was farther than it actually looked because it so dominated the landscape. That domination of the landscape was nothing compared to the domination felt standing underneath the vaulted ceilings and massive altar. Surely, this cathedral was built so that you feel just how miniscule you are under the power of the church ÷ both the organization and the building. Unbeknownst to most, the catacomb-like crypt below the church houses a whole sisterhood of Madonnas. Countries from all over the world have contributed statues and paintings of the virgin and they are all displayed here. In small recesses throughout the crypt, these Madonnas are flanked by the flag of the contributing country. Some were serene, draped in gold with jeweled crowns. Others looked like barbie dolls with big hair and tacky robes. In case you’re wondering, the U.S. gave a very nicely subdued wooden carving. Bolivia, which is an extremely poor country, gave a stunning statue with flowing gold embroidered robes with a gold crown. She looked more like a queen than a virgin, but beautiful nonetheless. It was surprising to see all the places there Catholicism reigns: Kazhakstan and a few other “stans”,Slovakia, Slovenia, Armenia, Poland, all of South America, Lebanon and Israel. Name the country, there was a virgin to represent it. Our lady of Lujan is no bigger than a Barbie doll but with a baby-like face. She sits within a glass case on the high altar overlooking her cool digs.
It was nice to get away from the cement and smog for at least a day. The return trip was by bus and subway combination. The bus was much more comfy than the train. The train has only basic plastic seating not much better than La Bombonera stadium. There also wasn’t any heat. The bus, on the other hand, had reclining soft seats and heat (although the window didn’t close completely, so a bit drafty) and was faster than the train. The subway was like any other we’ve seen anywhere.
Tomorrow we are going to Tigre and the river delta no matter what the weather has to offer us. We keep hearing great things about it, so we’re plunging in (so to speak). Until then, adios.
The Boys