The Price of Car Ownership

Dinner for two at a restaurant in Palermo - $100
Bottle of Argentine Malbec - $40
Not having your car stolen - $20


On nearly every city block near any nightspot, be it a restaurant, theatre, bar or club, vehicle protectors operate the streets of Buenos Aires, charging after dark, an average price of 20 pesos.

Cuidacoches, or trapitos (rags) as they are often referred to for the cloth they carry to give your windscreen a wipe while they look after your car, are private citizens who make a public city street their own. Their assumed task is to guide you into a space on the side of the road, and to then insure that your car is safe from thieves while you’re in the restaurant. In return they expect 20 pesos.

And if you don’t pay?

Well, don’t expect your car to be there when you get back.

Some might call it good entrepreneurial thinking, exploiting fear in the market and making a living from it. Successful businessmen have been doing it for years. Others would say it’s pure blackmail. A public citizen charging you cash to leave your car on a public street.

Some trapitos take their profession more seriously than others. Like the gentleman who works a corner near touristy Plaza Dorrego in San Telmo. He dresses in full military combats, complete with a hunting knife in his army belt. But most filling their pockets by guarding your car look like more trouble. And looking like trouble is probably good for business.

How does this illegal practice go unpunished by the authorities?

Official reports say there have only been two complaints so far this year. And the practice, though reaching new heights in prices, has been going on since many can remember. But whereas in past times, the driver chose how much of a tip to leave, now if you don’t pay what is demanded, you will at least be left with a nasty scratch down the side of your vehicle.

Furthermore there is a certain degree of trust in it all. Outside the Lagos de Palermo Golf Club, members even hand over their keys to the guy that runs the streets there. He is often to be seen shouting instructions to his boys to move cars and make extra space, while he holds on to the giant ring with keys to more than twenty five cars hung there. Twenty five cars with a value of US$15,000 – US$30,000; that’s a total of perhaps US$500,000 in his hands.

So it seems porteños prefer to just pay and be done with it. But if possible when they come back to their car, to ensure that the cuidacoche has at least done something for his money.

Dinner for two at a restaurant in Palermo - $100

Bottle of Argentine Malbec - $40

Not having to worry about your car on the street - PRICELESS

Student Life

Hundreds of nervous students flood around a university notice board. They’re searching for their name and for the seat number they’ve been assigned for their exam. Some frantically wrestle with their revision notes, while others sit more calmly, running dates, facts, and figures through their minds. The time is 8:50am and the exam starts at 9.

The scene could be one at any university campus in the United Kingdom. Except it’s not just any morning; this exam starts at 9am on Saturday morning.

Unlike British students, who would probably be sleeping off the previous night before nursing a hangover, on Saturday mornings Argentine students have been up and out of their homes since dawn, have made the commute to uni, and are waiting to put their knowledge to the test.

Why not schedule the exam on a weekday?

There’s no time. A typical Argentine university student is too busy working a nine to six day job from Monday to Friday. Saturday is the only day they can sit their uni exams.

It sounds tough, and it is. Whereas university students in the U.K will go to classes during the day, and maybe do the odd bar shift in the evening to earn a little extra on top of their student loans, students in Argentine do not enjoy such luxury.

After leaving school at 18, a typical student here will start straight off in a company. For the next four to six years, sometimes more, he or she will, in general, get up in time to commute to the office by nine, work until six, leave the office, travel to university, start classes at seven, finish classes at eleven, and finally end the day after commuting home to have dinner and a rest, before repeating everything the next morning. Saturdays are reserved for exams and Sundays are used to study and complete assignments.

Student life in the U.K. starts to sound even more like one big holiday.

The most popular university in the capital city is UBA (University of Buenos Aires). UBA was inaugurated in 1821 and is a public university with over 150,000 students. With fees at the private universities rivalling and sometimes surmounting British tuition fees, it is hardly surprising enrolment in UBA is oversubscribed.

So students suffer the fourteen to sixteen hour days, the Saturday morning exams, and the Sundays spent preparing assignments, with their minds firmly fixed on the final goal and the possibility of a better career.

Not an idea that would find popular support in the UK.

Though one huge advantage of working in a company while still studying is the experience. University graduates enter the job market with six years of real work experience, usually in their field of study. This surely looks far more attractive on their C.V. than three years as a trolley boy in Tesco during summers.

Why Argentine beef is the best in the world

Alejandro, an Argentine friend of mine, was at an international conference in Canada. He was waiting in turn to introduce himself to the group and to say a little something about his home country. Two participants before him was a Uruguayan. He stood and told everyone he was from Montevideo, the capital, and that Uruguay was famous for producing the best beef in the world. Hold on a second thought Alejandro, that’s what I was going to say about Argentina.

Despite their neighbours across the River Plate laying claim to the throne, internationally, Argentines are widely regarded as the Kings of beef. 

What makes it so good? The finest beef and excellent preparation.

The beef’s quality is derived from the grass the cattle feed on. Contrary to other countries, the majority of Argentine cows are not fed on grains in feedlots but are raised eating luscious grass, principally in the humid pampas, the biggest beef producing region of the country where open flat plains dominant the landscape.

Grass has less saturated fats than grains and more of the healthy omega three fatty acids. And although production results of free roaming cows are harder to control than in feedlots, most experts agree that natural conditions, in which the cows don’t consume antibiotics and growth hormones, are a principal factor in the final quality of the beef.

Spanish conquistadors first brought cattle to Argentina in 1536 but soon abandoned the project and left the cattle to run free. In the pampas, covering 289,577 square miles (750,000km²), with its’ mild climate and perfect rainfall, gauchos eventually tamed the cows, and with refrigeration and the introduction of trains in the late nineteenth century, beef production increased rapidly. In that century Aberdeen Angus, Hereford, and Shorthorn breeds were introduced.

13 million head of cattle are now slaughtered per year in Argentina, and beef exports contribute $US 500-700 million per year. The majority of the beef however is consumed within the country, and total revenue is over US$ 5 billion. In fact, Argentina has the highest consumption of beef in the world, a whopping 68kg per capita each year. 

Dinner at a traditional parilla (grill restaurant) demonstrates the country’s fondness for beef. A typical menu will offer around a dozen different cuts of steak, from the leanest and most expensive, lomo (tenderloin), to the fatty flank (vacio) and cuadril (rump). The insides of the cow are also a delicacy and prices are high for small intestines (chinchulines) and thymus glands (molleja).

The preparation of the meat is tried and tested. The cook will usually season it with nothing more than salt. It may sound simple, but grilling the beef well is a skill.

In the home, this skill is put to the test with the family asado, when the man of the house will assume the responsibility. The barbeque, enjoyed traditionally on Sundays in gardens all over the country, will include strips of ribs (tira de asado), the rib cap (tapa de asado), and matambre, a thin cut that comes from just under the skin between the lower part of the ribs and the belly. All grilled over charcoal or wood.

And though some Uruguayans may disagree, Argentines from Patagonia to Jujuy will relax and wash down the world’s best beef with some refreshing Argentine red wine.

If you need a hand

‘Si necesitas una mano para ganar, que sea la mano de Dios.’ If you need a hand to win, let it be the hand of God.

This is the slogan of a popular lotto scratch-card named Play with Maradona. Proof that in Argentina, they don’t only defend Diego Maradona’s Hand of God goal, they celebrate it.

The infamous goal, which Maradona scored against England in the quarter finals of the 1986 World Cup in Mexico, went unpunished by Tunisian referee Ali Bin Nassar, and stands as one of the most controversial goals of all time.

The scene is one etched into the minds of many. The fifty first minute, England Midfielder Steve Hodge’s failed clearance sends the ball looping into the penalty area. Goalkeeper Peter Shilton comes out to punch it away, but the 5ft 5in Maradona jumps above him, reaches out with his hand, and fists the ball into the back of the net. He lands, throws a cheeky glance over his shoulder at the referee, and then runs off in celebration, encouraging his teammates to embrace him before the goal is disallowed.

Although the commentator in Argentina, Victor Hugo Morales, immediately shouted handball, he then energetically screamed goaaaaaaaaaaaaal while English players surrounded the referee in protest. ‘Against England today, a goal with the hand, what do you want me to say!’ he said.

For England fans, this blatantly illegal act made Maradona nothing but a cheat. But in Argentina, the goal is considered a work of art. With the Falklands War (La Guerra de Las Malvinas) lost only four years earlier in 1982, the star player getting one back on the English with a handball, was genius.

Love him or hate him, one undeniable act of brilliance was Maradona’s explanation after the game. ‘A little with the head of Maradona, and a little with the hand of God.’ Admit it was deliberate handball, and he’s a cheat, deny it and he’s a liar. Make it the work of God, and he’s a hero.

Add his second goal, voted the goal of the century in 2002, when he dribbled from his own half passing six English players, and with one game, Maradona became an Argentine legend. (La mano de Dios - Hand of God song in tribute to the goal).

Born on October 30^th 1960 in a shantytown in Lanus, a city just south of the capital, Buenos Aires, Diego Maradona started his career with Argentinos Juniors before moving to Boca Juniors. He played for FC Barcelona in Spain and then Napoli in Italy before returning to Argentina.

Despite a constant battle with drugs and numerous personal problems, Maradona remains an icon in Argentina, where even those who dislike his personality, respect his sporting success.

He is renowned for saying exactly what he thinks, and has recently run into problems with the Argentine press over criticism of his leadership as Argentine national coach. Needing to beat Uruguay to qualify for the 2010 World Cup, Maradona revelled in the 1-0 victory last week telling journalists in a live post match broadcast to ‘suck him off and keep sucking him off’.T shirts with the slogan are already on sale.

Some might say his poor managerial skills and consistent problems in public would be too much for the Argentine people to take. But it seems that the man who scored the Hand of God is too iconic to criticise. He's Maradona, and he'll always be the greatest player who ever lived.

Sucking down on my first mate

I needed to prepare. The family I was off to visit were materos, and I, an Englishman whose hot beverage customs were limited to a cup of tea, was not initiated in the social ritual of mate. It was my second visit to Argentina however, and I wanted to try.

Mate, pronounced mar-tay, is a hot, bitter beverage drunk extensively throughout Argentina, Uruguay and Paraguay. It is traditionally a social drink, shared with family or friends, both in the home and in the streets (especially in Uruguay).

It is prepared by taking a recipient (traditionally made from a gourd and also called a mate), and filling it three quarters full with yerba, dry leaves and twigs from the yerba mate plant.

The preparation is important and nearly everyone has their own special tips. Generally, the preparer covers the mate with his palm, turns it upside down and shakes it to force any powdery bits to the top. He then tilts the mate sideways at an angle, and gently pours on a little tepid water.

Hot but never boiling water (80°C is perfect) is then added. The yerba expands and rises slightly. Next, the bombilla is inserted. The bombilla is a metal straw through which the liquid is sucked. The end inserted in the yerba has tiny holes and acts as a sieve to let the liquid through without the herby leaves.

Then the ritual begins. El cebador (the server), drinks the first round to ensure the bombilla is free of any powdery bits, and then refills it and passes it clockwise. Each person makes a loud slurping noise when they have sucked the gourd dry, and it goes back to el cebador and then onto the next drinker.

It may sound unhygienic, five or six people sharing the straw, but I wanted to participate when I went to see the family. A few days before the visit, my yerba training began.

My Argentine friend prepared mate and I sucked on the bombilla for the first time. It was bitter and unbearable, and the hot liquid burnt my tongue. I’d read nobody likes mate the first time. It’s an acquired taste and perseverance is a must if you wish to enjoy it one day. My friend added sugar to ease the bitterness and I persisted.

Over the next few days I learnt to tolerate it, and felt ready to visit the family.

I sat down with them around their table as Marina, the head of the household, heated the water. Though nowadays electronic kettles with a mate setting heat the water to a perfect 80°C, Marina used a stovetop kettle and knew instinctively from the sound when the desired temperature was reached.

She drank the first round and then handed the refilled gourd to me. I could feel everyone’s stares as I held the mate in my hands. I leant forward, put the bombilla in my mouth and sucked. I only grimaced slightly but everyone laughed. I wasn’t keen on sucking until the slurping noise but was encouraged to do so. I passed it back to Marina, remembering not to say thanks. I'd been told the the custom was to only say thanks when you didn’t want to drink another round. I drank three or four more that day.

Now, over two years later, I too am a matero. It is a relaxing ritual and the drink’s stimulant affect always helps on those long afternoons. It was well worth the perseverance.

One week on

When Mercedes Sosa died on the morning of Sunday 4th October, Argentina went into mourning.

The folklore icon, whose distinguishable and powerful voice charmed the world for more than forty years, had suffered with ongoing respiratory troubles and died in hospital early Sunday morning from problems related to kidney disease.

La Negra (the black one), as she was lovingly known, was born in the north-western city of San Miguel de Tucamán in 1936 on the ninth of July, Argentine Independence Day. She was discovered after winning a competition in her home province aged fifteen; and went on to become one of the most respected Argentine artists of her generation.

During her long career, Mercedes Sosa toured the world, sharing her unique style and voice in venues from the Sistine Chapel, to the Coliseum, to Carnegie Hall.

In the 1970s she lived in exile in both Paris and Madrid, while the political climate in Argentina during the Military dictatorship, and her left wing views, made life at home unsafe. She returned to Argentina in 1982.

When the news of her death was announced, President Cristina Kirchner ordered three days national mourning. Television news programmes broadcasted one hour specials, and radio stations played songs from her forty albums.

‘Argentina and the music world has lost somebody special in their hearts, but we’ll always have her music’ said Viviana, one of the thousands queuing in the streets outside the National Congress in Buenos Aires, to attend Mercedes’ wake.

Argentine rocker Charly Garcia and television host Susanna Giménez joined other stars to say goodbye. Inside musicians played acoustic guitars and the crowds sang in an attempt to keep the mood upbeat.

‘Divine, divine divine,’ is how one of her brothers described her.

And when asked what Mercedes was like at home during a family barbeque, her nephew said, ‘she just wanted to be one of the family at home, not Mercedes Sosa.’

Respected for her tenderness and her desire to sing what she believed, Mercedes Sosa was the voice of the voiceless ones. Her most famous song is Gracias a la vida (Thanks to life)