Old Rope still has a long way to go in order to become a porteño here in Buenos Aires. The nation´s obsession with all things European is reflected in the lifestyle: bars, restaurants, clubs and the like do not get going until very late. Clubs especially seem to be empty till at least 3 or 4am and people don´t go out to eat until after 10pm. Staying out drinking all night is something that does not happen a great deal back home for me – indeed it isn´t really a viable option even if I wanted to. As a result I am ill-equipped for the rigors of the Argentine nightlife.
For all that, the city that never sleeps seems quiet. A lot of the middle-classes desert the town in droves at this time of year, choosing to holiday on the beaches of Uruguay or down south in the Plata del Mar. If the socialites of B.A are letting me down at all, perhaps this is why. They are too busy getting their honky white wannabe European asses a tan. Or perhaps I am just going to the wrong places.
Meanwhile, on the streets, some of those that cannot afford fancy foreign beach holidays go about their nightly business. After dark the Bin Boys (or “binnies”, both are Old Rope´s names, not common porteño parlance) materialise seemingly from nowhere. Rubbish bags from each building and shop are heaped up at night in the street and these gravitate towards the corners, assisted by official city street cleaners and the Bin Boys. The bin boys are not council employees. Whether they are homeless or not I could say, but it would not be surprising. These ´binnies´all appear to have their own patch, their own corner, which they seem quite protective of. Here they rummage and rifle through the day´s garbage. I can only guess what for, but it may not be food, as there is a quite healthy attitude towards ´recycling´here in Buenos Aires. Things left on the street are seldom there in the morning. If you do not need your old furniture or used cardboard or whatever it may be, it seems that someone else will gladly make use of it.
These bin boys can be anything from young lads who look about ten years old, dressed in Liverpool FC replica football shirts, right through to wizened old topless men with bald heads and grey beards.
Elsewhere there are other parts of the city seldom described in the guide books. As with all capital cities, Buenos Aires seems to have it´s fair share of homeless people. But I have never seen whole families living on the streets. The set-up is often broadly the same. The family has a corner in a big building doorway at night (or sometimes day). Here the apparent father lies around on a mattress, if he is lucky, or something more uncomfortable approximating a mattress if he is not. Kids clamber over him or run about under the watchful eye of the mother, who is busy sweeping the litter and dirt from their patch of the street, just as though she were sweeping a stoop in Brooklyn, the Bronx or living in some sort of Hovis advert.
These families can also be found in the parks by day, availing themselves of the public fountains to bathe the children. Horrible and unwanted though this situation may be, certainly to the eyes of a cosseted European such as Old Rope, at least bathing is an option in a city that is so hot. Back home in the cold of Britain, getting a good scrubbing in a public fountain would be a bit grim.
Old Rope will be outta town for a few days, but when I return I hope to crack on with getting funky in Buenos Aires. The hipsters and flipsters of this town have yet to be found and Old Rope´s rightful place amongst them duly claimed. I still have yet to find anywhere that plays any decent music, so suggestions on a postcard please, marked “Buenos Aires Puta Madre”