“There is no solution yet known for which an Argentine cannot find a problem.”
~ Our Argentine taxi driver this morning...
Joel Bowman with today’s Note From the End of the World: Buenos Aires, Argentina...
There we were, seated in the backseat of a taxicab, daydreaming about weekend asados... and Patagonian lakes... and family vacations… and the nature of en media res narrative structures, when the news crackled over the radio...
“President of the nation, Javier Milei, will sign a decree as early as the first days of next week to move forward with the privatization of Aerolíneas Argentinas...
“The measure comes in the middle of a conflict that has caused wild strikes among the union workers...”
Apparently, since its nationalization back in 2008, the state-owned carrier has cost Argentine taxpayers some $8 billion… which is a lot of money, especially for a country that doesn’t have any.
We have no idea who would want to purchase the flailing company, but the new owners could do a terrible job and it would still be an improvement on the statist quo. In any case, the market will decide its fate, as well it should.
Another day in Argentina, another step toward free(r) markets, free(r) minds, and free(r) people...
So we settled into the ride, watching the city’s charming barrios pass by the window... the colorful fruit and vegetable stands... the ubiquitous corner cafés... the local porteños going about their daily business. A little less public folly. A little more private business. The future looks bright down here at the End of the World.
Meanwhile...
Uncommon Ground
“You’re not from here,” our taxi driver observed (in Spanish), no doubt having deduced as much from our own, Australian-accented Castellano. We quickly fell into conversation regarding the general state of the nation, a staple topic for cab drivers the world over.
“¡Es un quilombo de verdad!” our conductor began a familiar refrain in rich, rioplatense slang. “¡The situation is a disaster, for sure! But it has been a disaster for all my life, or as long as I can remember, anyway.”
We watched the storefronts passing by as the taxi wended its way through the late morning traffic. Down Scalabrini Ortiz... past the Parque Centenario... over the train tracks and by a restaurant with a sign, in English, that reads: “The Oldest Bar in Caballito.”
“¿Y el loco?” we ventured, inquiring after the president, who is casually referred to in these parts, by detractors and admirers alike, as “the crazy one.”
The driver gave us a mischievous look in the rear view mirror. “In this country, politicians on the left are all thieves. Politicians on the right are all thieves.”
We were reminded of the old line, as true here as it is anyway: One can’t fool all the people all the time... which is why we have two political parties!
Continued our guide: “This one, el Loco, is something else. Neither left, nor right. We Argentines don’t quite know what to make of him yet. He is crazy, that is for sure, but our country is a real mess. Maybe we need crazy.”
After a brief pause, he asked about our country of birth, Australia, and about its infamously dangerous fauna. “It’s true,” we admitted, “there are spiders and snakes and sharks galore. And plenty of politicians, too!”
The driver issued forth a hearty laugh and, having found common ground, the conversation turned to weekend asados and Patagonian lakes and family vacations and the stories we tell ourselves in order to really live…
And now for your Notes From the End of the Week…
Final Notes…
The short clip above was taken in the nearby Plaza Intendente Francisco Seeber, named in honor of the businessman, military officer and one time mayor of the province of Buenos Aires (from 1889-1890).
The bronze horseman statue you see is of Juan Manuel de Rosas, a wealthy landholder who became one of the country’s most ruthless caudillos… a kind of warlord who, with the help of his vast private militia, as was common for rural proprietors, waged civil wars with other regional strongmen of his day. Rosas enjoyed great power in the 1830s and ‘40s, before being exiled to England in 1852. There he lived out the remainder of his days… until he caught pneumonia and died in 1877.
The plaza features bronze statues of deer and tigers and, with its large stone pergola in the northeast corner, is a popular place for private weddings and ceremonies and various public events, too. This weekend, crowds will gather under the tree-lined grounds to celebrate Rosh Hashanah.
Stay tuned for more Notes From the End of the World…
Cheers,
Joel Bowman
P.S. A special shoutout to our dear Notes Members; we’re ever grateful for your generous and ongoing support. As mentioned in this space previously, Notes is an entirely independent, reader-supported publication (as in, we accept no advertising, bow to no boss, bend no knee).
Instead, we’re on the side of free markets, free minds and free people…and we hope you are too!
So if you’re enjoying our work, and would like to help support the project, please consider joining our small but growing community of free-thinkers, deep readers and cheerful skeptics, here…
Stories to Live By