Buenos Aires kills me
(versión en español debajo)
It seems I lost my argentinian
condition… Right now, for my fellow countrymen I´m “the spanish”, while a few
years ago I was “the english”...Since when the fact of having emigrated changes
your nationality for the one of the country you now live in? The worst thing is
that they don´t say it with disdain, but with a certain pride, as if it gave me a
different status... Well, for some things, at least.
Each time I go back, everybody
wants to know how I find Buenos Aires and they also want to know all the
differences with the place I currently live in. From "what does coke taste like in Spain?" (yes, I´ve
been asked that!) to "how do you see Buenos Aires?", people bombard me with
questions, although sometimes they don´t really like the answers... While talking
about coke is harmless enough, it is not as easy when it comes to my opinion about my birthplace. If my answer is a positive one, great. But if I say what I
really think (which is what I usually do, cause I never learn), I haven´t got
the right to talk because I left and I´m not better than a traitor.
The truth is, I see Buenos Aires from a variety
of prisms. Its streets evoke mixed feelings characteristic of a tango
lyric (which proves that I still carry my patriotism in my blood). On the one
hand, I´m still bedazzled with its lifestyle, its incredible neighbourhoods and
of course, the infinite and original leisure that defines this city. On the
other, I feel profoundly sad to see so much marginality in the streets, the
moodiness that flows in the air and the claustrophobic sensation I get when I
realise I´m in the same place, twelve years later, and I´m still listening to
the same excuses for everything...
Loli!
ResponderEliminarLoved your text. And I agree with every word Besides, your writing skills are amazing!
Well done! :-)
PS> you need to come for a visit!
x