I would like to take a moment to talk about the Subte. This, for my loved ones back in the states, is the Metro or Subway here in Buenos Aires. Interestingly enough, I've never taken the Subway in the US, and I've only used the Metro in Europe a handful of times; so for me, the Subte experience is isolated and unique. It simply is what it is. And it's worth writing about.
Months ago, back when I was living my normal little American life, I would get in my car every day. It was the same experience every day. I mean, the weather might be different, I might be listening to different music; but on the whole I knew exactly what to expect from my daily commute.
This is not the case with the Subte. Each day I ride Line D, then switch to Line C to get to work. The experience lasts about 30 minutes (20 on a good day and 40 on a bad one!). Instead of being a controlled environment, I am at the mercy of the hordes of people flowing through public transportation each morning. Mondays are not so bad. I go to work early: leaving the house and entering Subte-land at about 7:30am. On Mondays I am brave enough to bring a cup of coffee and there is a possibility I will actually get to sit down. Claiming a seat on the Subte is like receiving an entire box of chocolate bon bons.
Tuesday through Thursday I enter the Subte at rush hour: 8:00am. Do not bring coffee. Leave your expectations at home. Try and take off your coat so you won't have sweat running down your back. Prepare to get squished. My body is sandwiched between countless others for a full 20 minutes. Elbows jabbing, old men grunting and pushing, people falling as we come careening to each stop. Some days I stand next to a woman, my nose so close to her that I can see each pore on her face. If I'm lucky she smells nice and I can look at her fascinating earrings and contemplate her hairstyle for the 20-minute ride. If I'm not lucky I'm pushed up against some large, smelly man wreaking of the night before, cigarettes, and morning breath. I'll attempt to advert my gaze from his dandruff-covered shoulders and hope desperately that the stench won't rub off. On days I'm really lucky I'll get to watch couples making out and groping one another (Argentines are unafraid of PDA), or a tiny child sleeping soundly on the seat, his little mouth open and drool running down his rosy cheeks.
So this is my tribute to the Subte. It touches me (literally) every day. It pushes me, shoves me, assails me with its smells, sight and sounds, but most important it gets me and the other throngs of Argentines to our destinations. As long as I don't get knocked over or touched by an armpit, I guess I can't really complain.
6 comments:
I would kile to get up really close to YOU, and give you a hug!XOXO
Great post Amber! I'm going to post it on our blog and I'll have it link over to your post. Hope all is well and you're enjoying the "foreign" city life.
Congrats on your new job! How exciting!! You'll be so good at teaching, especially with your outgoing personality. Argentinians sounds much like Korean.
-Kellyn
Isn't riding the metro so awesome? I've been longing to do that for so long here in USA, although I used to do that when I lived in Korea. I completely agree with everything you wrote, especially about the flexibility and variety of your daily life. My days are not the exact same routine every day anymore. You're making me to want to go visit Argentina even more. ^^
You should do it! Come and visit me! It's lots of fun here and you can come be squished on the Subte too! :)
your tribute is a fine one, might I say. You crack me up darlin'. You're apt. has much personality. Oh! by the way! that bottom picture you look wasted in your ever so hot sparkly tights! LOL
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