Four seasons fill the measure of the year; there are four seasons in the minds of men.
~ John Keats, The Human Seasons
Joel Bowman with today’s Note From the End of the World: Buenos Aires, Argentina…
We came upon the building in a deserted part of downtown, the daily business throng having receded for the night into the surrounding suburbs. Seeing us somewhat discombobulated, a kindly doorman motioned to us from across the way.
“Are you here for the concert?” he asked in rich and muddy Porteño Spanish. Indeed we were, our wandering family of three. He ushered us inside, across a crowded lobby, to another space and time.
Upon entering Palacio San Miguel’s grand Salón Renoir, we were immediately transported back to the late 19th Century and the Golden Age of Argentine opulence. The stained glass ceilings and gilded fixtures, the Corinthian columns and exquisite dentil moldings, the candles lining the staircase and mezzanine level.
And in the middle of the setting, a small stage for the string quartet, which would soon deliver those gathered a memorable performance of Antonio Vivaldi’s masterpiece, Le Quattro Stagioni (The Four Seasons).
There was a time when “to be rich like an Argentine” was said with a straight face, when the nation’s cosmopolitan elites gathered to discuss politics, global trade, international fashions and new frontiers. As we closed our eyes and let the great Italian composer’s rapturous melodies fill the room, we could almost envision the past projected into the future, the seasons of man having turned once more.
Read on for more on the liberty revolution, the light that never goes out…
And now for your Notes From the End of the Week…
Final Notes…
If you happen to be in Buenos Aires this weekend and you see an Australian dressed as an undertaker haunting the grounds of the Parque de las Américas with a morning star in hand, do not be disturbed. Dear Wifey has organized a “small” get together for expat families who missed all the Halloween fun from back home this week.
“Looks like we might have a few more people than originally expected,” she ventured, casually, over coffee and eggs this morning.
“How many is a few?”
“No more than… say… a hundred.”
“Ahem?”
She let slip a coy smile, “You know. Más o menos.”
Umm… trick or treat?
Stay tuned for more Notes From the End of the World…
Cheers,
Joel Bowman
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The Four Seasons