2 to the zero

Buenos Aires and I have arrived at a point in our relationship where we can openly opine about one another without fear of tearing at the fabric of our friendship. I love her enough to hate her. In fact, the things I love most about her, when untempered, are the very things I hate her for.

Take, for example, her energy: On Friday night I opted against a night out with friends and fun in favor of a night in with myself and movies. I drifted to sleep just after watching the final scenes of Jodorowsky's 'El Topo' (gracias for the indirect rec, Arturito!) only to be startled awake just before 6 am – alarmed by an explosive uproar that jumped into my bedroom from the street 4 floors below. I peeked over my balcony and saw, illuminated by dawn's glow, a frenzied mass of gentlemen enthusiastically engaging in body-to-body combat. (I assume the boys had been thrown out of one of the bars that line the block around the corner from my departamento.) Unsettled by the zealous display of savagery, I retreated from the damp morning air and back into bed. The barks from the bodies below continued for – I kid you not, friend reader – 30 minutes more.

Boys will be chicos. I have seen many a fight in my day; this fight was not particularly remarkable save for the ostensible fervor demonstrated by the chicos. What struck me was the herd's manic energy – that I gleaned despite the separating 4 floors of humid air. Obvio, the quarrel was testosterone-fueled, and, set afire by a flame of passion – that unfettered Argentine energy.

This energy I saw manifest in a more friendly form 2 weeks ago, at the Dave Matthews Band concert at Luna Park. I had already seen Dave and co. perform several times in South Florida, so I was curious to see how the Argentine DMB experience would compare. In the Sur de la Florida, his concerts tend to look and feel like a weekend-long pseudo reunion for anyone who attended high school in Palm Beach County between 1990 and 2005: a few hours sprawled out on the lawn of Cruzan amphitheater accompanied by old friends, Dave et al's expert jam sessions, always preceded by hours of the unique-to-USAmerica-cultural-phenomenon, the tailgate. The vibe – siempre chill.

I was blown away by the DMB experience in Argentina – the vibe was pure energy, raw and fanatical. Buenos Aires worships rock music almost as much as she worships fútbol. And, man oh man, did Buenos Aires show up at Luna Park prepared to exalt. The porteño crowd's electric veneration converted DMB from a South Floridian relax-fest to an all-out-Argentine-jump-around-dance-party-ROCK-OUT. It was unexpected and epic. Check it, I found this clip on YouTube, filmed by someone sitting in the bleachers behind us (my friends and I were about 3 feet in front of the stage, directly in front of Tim Reynolds – the guitarist in the red t-shirt – frolicking with the best and rest of 'em... if you've got 14:59 minutos to spare you should watch it all, reader-friend!! I want you to experience the magic too!!):



The same apasionado energy that overtook us in the sea of sincere rock aficionados at the DMB show is, I believe, the same energy I observed from above, fueling the swarm of savages on Saturday morning. The difference, however – the former is a constructive display of BA's energy. The latter is nothing short of destructive – and stirs in me a toxic sense of disgust, a hate that hurts.

Buenos Aires, your energy is infectious in the best and worst ways possible.

I once read the following quote (paraphrased): 'A country is great when it has more dreams of its future than of its past.' This idea has stuck with me over the years and I've applied it in a variety of contexts. As I explore my friendship with Buenos Aires, the literal meaning of the quote once again resonates with me; I notice that Buenos Aires tends to glorify her past, revere her raices and curse her present circumstances. Yet rarely do I find evidence of her hope for an improved future.

Buenos Aires, don't you see? – your energy, if correctly channeled, could guide you to a future of prosperity. Instead, your energy – in the true form of a tragic flaw – locks you in the throes of greatness, leaves you paralyzed in the amber of the present (KV allusion!) looking only to the distant past to nourish your pride.

Buenos Aires, please don't be insulted by my weighty criticism. I tell you because I love you. I love you enough to hate you sometimes, love you enough to expect you to be your best – which is nothing short of great.