BA on a Budget

So I am now earning and living off the peso and it is getting to me a bit. The other day I refused to pay for a mandarin because it cost 9 pence. And I'm still getting over paying 3 pounds for a salad at my local café. 

But even though I am now living on a budget, it's actually good fun – living in a new city on a budget is a great experience. 
First of all, you have to do a lot more research when you want to travel anywhere, so you learn a lot more about the city, the subte, the buses and the street names. When I first arrived and was living a little more comfortably, studying a map usually followed this thought pattern....

'Ok so I take a left out the door and walk three blocks, then I turn right and look for the stop at the....sod it, I'll take a taxi.' 

And there were many ways of justifying it - 'you know, its probably really far and complicated and anything could happen to me really and I'll probably get lost - far better to take a taxi. Its not because I'm lazy, it's because I am sensible.'

But when the purse strings start to tighten - there is no choice, the only way to survive is forward planning and public transport or walking.... and a whole new world is opened up to you. Money tucked in bra, phone in pocket to prevent grab and run opportunists, and away you go... and you realise that the journey only takes you 20 minutes, you only have to make two turns (thankyou BA's simple grid layout) and you don’t feel unsafe even for a second. 

Some nights I walk back from work, which only takes half an hour, but when I tell people this they look shocked – 'What about all those dangerous muggers with knives? and the rapists on every street corner?' Ok I am exaggerating but sometimes I think people believe they are living in seventeenth century London.

'Well', I tell them, 'I have perfected my get home safely technique you see'. And it goes like this:

1. Phone in pocket, Ipod headphones in... select hard core, pumping music (The Prodigy is a good choice here)

2. Start fast-paced stride and adopt an 'I could seriously f*** you up facial expression / death stare  (You have to really embrace this one, even if you are wearing a floral dress and a cardigan)

3. Once confident march is in full swing, wind things down to a Michael Buble track and remain at cruise control for the rest of the walk whilst at all times maintaining a 'don't mess with me' façade.

Note: Turn music volume low enough so that you are still aware of your surroundings and would hear someone (like a street beggar with no teeth, in a cloak, with a dagger) coming up behind you.

Another advantage of being a cheapskate is that you see more of the city through cheap or even free events that you have to go to because you can't always afford to go to fancy bars. These can include house parties. However, beware, parties of friends of friends of friends can be risky. In my experience, if someone tells you that they went to a party, it was 'quite good' and they 'met some nice people', it generally means it was too random, awkward due to the distinct lack of social group mixing, and they had to down the Fernet at an uncomfortably speedy pace before they felt like they were having a good time. Been there.  

With a bit of research you can also stumble across some great places, off the gringo track, to go out to - arts cinemas that charge you half the price of a regular cinema and show some really decent films, small cultural festivals, free dance classes and quirky concerts. BA has interesting events going down most weekends and experiencing them can make you feel far more 'at one' with the feel of the city and the social scene (look at me, trying to sound cool).

Living on a budget, you also get to know the local shopkeepers better, and unfortunately for them they get to know you (the cheapskate) too, as you can't afford to go to the pricey supermarkets (and you don't agree with them and their ridiculous queues anyway). I am a regular at my local fruit and veg shop where most people go to buy their healthy veg in bulk. They seem perplexed when, during busy hours, I pop in for one banana. 
'You want one banana? Yes? Not a bunch? anything else?
'No - don't want to push it you see, we'll see how things go tomorrow.'

As well as being cheaper with fresher food, it is needless to say that the local shops are more personable and the owners care far more about their produce. You can really taste the difference when food has been sold to you with love - 'hmm this apple came from a good home...'

However, it's also good to let the smaller shops know where you stand on the 'we have no change so would you like a sweetie instead' game. Yes that's right - no one seems to own coins in Buenos Aires, so sometimes when shops don't have any, they offer you little candy sweeties that they keep at the till.

I am not five years old. No, I would not like a sweetie instead of money (note to shopkeepers - chocolate may actually work here).  

'But we have no change. Have you got anything smaller than this outrageous amount of two pesos (30 pence) you have given us for an orange? No? Ok, well we have no coins so it will have to be sweeties....'

'Ok I won't buy the orange then.' 
(Yeah, think you and your sweeties can screw with me?- they know not to pull that one now)

Whilst I am on the money topic, I also find the 100 peso note cracking challenge, a highlight to any week. I recently took a taxi ride with my first female taxi driver...now I am a feminist but on the driving front... hmmm, no comments...cough...but stereotypes, well... hmmm... maybe accurate…

At the end of the ride I handed over 100 pesos (about 17 quid) for my 30 peso fare, which was met with a sharp - 'Don't you have anything smaller?.....No?'

And a huge, stroppy, rant followed suit - 'You could have warned me! Just a little bit of warning would have been nice! Why didn't you tell me you were going to do this?' 
All the while my confused, whimpering inner monologue was saying - 'Why are you angry at me for giving you money? This is not right - I have not just killed a kitten, stop shouting at me please...'

I also enjoy the fact that here you tell the bus driver how much you are going to pay. I really have no idea how much a journey is supposed to cost - apparently increasing distance brackets are charged at different prices - the further you are going the more you should pay. The difference is minimal, but still, I have been using the same price ever since I got here no matter how far I am going - and to be honest I rarely know how far I am going.When I first got on a bus I just copied the man in front of me when he gave his price and that has been my set price ever since.

Of course things aren't that bad, don't get out the violins just yet - the point of this blog is to recommend living on a budget you are not usually accustomed to, and seeing that being frugal, especially in a city like BA, ain't that bad.

Heart disease? I get no beef from that.

Today on local television I saw my first health warning about the risks of a diet high in saturated fat. I haven't come across many health warnings or advertisements like this in South America. They are part of everyday life back in the UK with many food companies cashing in on a health conscious society with their promises of 'lower cholesterol levels' if you buy their margerine or a 'healthy heart' if you eat their whole grain bread.

I just can't see a health warning filtering into everyday eating out here, especially a social get together. The typical Argentine dish is the Asado - a meat lovers dream with beef steak, pork sausages and other animal parts, salted up and slapped on the grill for a couple of hours (with a little salad garnish for show).
The following situation would just not happen at an asado...

Hello bypass

'So, more meat?'
'Umm you know what? I think I'll pass...  there is a dangerous amount of saturated fat in that piece of cow and I am thinking about my cholesterol level.

(cue crickets)

You would never be invited back again, you would be sent into social exile along with those pesky vegetarians, who probably wouldn't even talk to you, and you would be called a right pain in the arsado.
Obviously, in the UK no one wants to be that health conscious nuisance who refuses food at a dinner party because they are dieting, but healthy eating is still prevalent in social situations.
The diet out here seems to go hand in hand with high cholesterol and high blood pressure - as my boss pointed out during last weekends asado - 'you can never have too much salt' (excellent news - I'll pass that on to my arteries).

So with a diet high in saturated fat and salt, surely cardiovascular problems are sky high? According to research, heart disease is indeed high in Argentina with cardiovascular diseases causing 30% of total deaths a year, but compared with the UK, where a third of all deaths are due to cardiovascular diseases, the rate is not that high.

You tell em Daise

With the average Argentine consuming a person of beef per year (about 70 kilos) why aren't the related problems through the roof? According to Beef magazine (not kidding - it exists, and is actually quite a good read....if you are into, well, beef) 60% of Argentine cattle are still grass fed - which is proven to produce beef lower in saturated fats and high in omega 3 (not the name of a spacecraft but a very handy fatty acid). These grass fed cattle produce better and healthier beef then cattle raised in feedlots - the other farming method. The feedlot option however is becoming increasingly popular with many farmers now choosing it because of the increased efficiency and convenience. It also frees up a lot of grazing land which can be used for the profitable growing of grains such as soybeans.
It is estimated that within the next 5 years 60% of Argentine beef will be farmed using feedlots - not good news for the arteries.


Another interesting fact I came across however, is that the traditional herbal tea - a massive part of Argentine culture - Mate (pronounced mah tay - not like your buddy) has been shown to lower cholesterol (so actually kind of your buddy). Yes, Mate magazine (not really) states that a study conducted in Argentina showed that drinking mate can have a significant increase in the activity of an enzyme that promotes HDL (good) cholesterol whilst lowering LDL (naughty) cholesterol.


The Argentines also seem to be a fairly active nation which helps in preventing CVDs. In BA gym culture is big time with a gym just around any corner. My local gym 'HOT gym' - oh yes, I am all about quality - is particularly busy. However I'm pretty sure one of the trainers has been taking fitness advice from a fat person - walking is just as effective as running? Am I missing a trick here - why on earth do people run then?

Obviously my research has solely consisted of a few hours on the internet and a cup of tea, but could we perhaps say that the Argentines compensate for their fatty diet with more exercise, good quality food and a helping hand from the local drink?
Also, another factor to consider is that they aren't quite yet at the same level of fast food indulgence as the 'great English speaking nations'. They are however on that McDonalds appreciation trajectory and it is becoming more popular all the time.

So, although the situation is not noticably worse than other countries, Argentina stills needs to keep those warnings coming. Another study says that mortality due to heart disease and strokes is estimated to increase by approximately 145 percent among men and women in South American countries in the next 10 years, compared with a 28 percent increase for women and a 50 percent increase for men over the same period in developed countries.

Preventative medicine is generally not a priority for developing countries but it seems to be increasing in Argentina and lets hope it keeps on going based on these statistics.

The future for Argentine cattle

Polite Porteños

Before coming to BA I was told by many other Argentinians that 'Portenos' (Spanish word referring to people from Buenos Aires - people from a 'port city') are 'stuck up'. However my experience here has shown me quite the opposite and I have encountered extremely welcoming and friendly people. 
People also show a lot of manners - for example, young teenagers on public transport offer their seat to women and the elderly far more often than I have seen in the UK. Sometimes men on the underground even offer me their seat , and I am a physically fit (that's a lie) 23 year old. I often decline however - being at crotch level in a rammed carriage during rush hour, makes for an uncomfortable journey.

In supermarkets, certain tills also give priority to pregnant women and old people. I found this out a slightly awkward way. Whilst standing in the queue, I was tapped on the shoulder by a man out of the queue who looked at me and pointing to a woman next to him, said 'she's pregnant'.
'Um...Ok' I said, confused (should I say congratulations?)
I just looked at him, smiling, so he continued... 'Are you pregnant?' 
'Um...no' (Oh great, a classic Bridget Jones moment, he thinks I look pregnant - why would he say that?)
He then pointed to a sign above the till which stated that pregnant women had priority.
'Oh, yes of course, go in front of me'.


A couple of days ago my friend Luke and I noted our frustrations on public transport. Like a lot of people we always try our best to be the first into the underground carriage or the bus, in order to get those much wanted seats. If we do get seats, the childish joy only lasts a couple of seconds. 
As all the seats start to get taken, we realise having seats is just not worth the effort. From that point on, the whole journey is spent eyeing up the door everytime a new passenger gets on, judging the demographic of the person and weighing up where they lie in the pecking order for seat priority.... 

'Young male - phew, seats mine.....'
'Young non-pregnant female - no worries, I can keep my seat for now.....'
'Old couple - damn it, both up.'

There is also that awkward line with older women - if I do offer her my seat will she be insulted and think that I think she's too old to handle the arduous task of standing up? 
As a woman, offering my seat to a man no matter what his age, often feels like I'm emasculating him. Most of the time I do offer an older man, I am declined with a 'don't be silly' Harold Bishop double-chin shake of the head, and I sit down a little embarrassed. 

Greeting people is also a lot easier out here. In the UK, there are just too many damn options.....handshake - too formal? hug - too informal? kiss - too pretentious? There is so much to think about that a lot of the time I just end up doing a hand up, salute, wave thing and looking a bit awkward. Out here it's easy - whoever you meet - old, young, male, female, it's always a kiss on the cheek - no awkwardness, straight in there, done. It is rarely even a proper kiss, just a cheek press and air kiss (far more hygienic than a germy handshake).
I have however come across a few frisky folk who adopt the 'two' method- this can confuse things a bit, especially when your caught off guard, do not move your head to the other side and nearly end up lip. on. lip.

In conclusion, not too shabby on the manners front Argentina, some of us Brits could definitely take a lesson.

Don't even bother

A sweaty, spiritual, sing a long, sunday.

Last weekend my flatmate invited me to a Temazcal ceremony in the countryside. Being an 'I'll try everything once except bungee jumping' kind of gal, I decided to go along and see what it was all about.
For those who don't know, a Temazcal ceremony is a 'spiritual purification' supposed to renew your soul and provide you with the inner strength to achieve your life goals.

A typical Temazcal clay hut

It was first practised by the Aztecs in Mexico but many other cultures throughout South America have adopted the ceremony. The main feature is a herbal steam-bath (basically a sauna) which consists of heating volcanic rocks in the centre of a dome shaped clay hut (supposed to represent the womb....)  The ceremony is usually led by a 'Shaman' - a messenger between the spiritual and human world....(Yes, this weekend was definitely going to need an open mind)

On arriving at the location where our ceremony would take place (the back garden of my flatmate's eccentric hippy friend), we met Juan or 'brother of the wind', the Shaman who would be leading the weekend. According to him he was an Indigenous Argentinian. A chat with him later on proved that he did indeed know a lot about the Indigenous Argentinian tribe the Mapuche, but his roots were a little suspect.
'So you are from an indigenous community?'
'No.'
'Oh, but your family are indigenous?
'No, actually I discovered it myself.'
I'm not quite sure how you can discover this, I am pretty sure it's something that you need to be born into, but hey ho, I assumed he was referring to the lifestyle. Anyway, he was quite an interesting guy even if his past was a bit suspicious. (Recovered alcoholic, was suggested by my sceptical French friend)

The night before the ceremony, was the preparation stage. Juan called us to the garden where we formed a semi circle in front of the moon and following his lead, began chanting towards the sky - just a typical Saturday night really. He also played a horn like instrument which at first made the most pathetic dribbling sound (think of a trumpet Fail) and I could not help but burst into laughter. The laughter that you know is wrong and because of that it makes you laugh harder. Luckily my scarf was around my neck to cover my mouth and muffle the sound… this was the first of many laugh suppressing techniques needed throughout the weekend.


The next day was the day of the ceremony. The sacred ground where the steam bath would be constructed was prepared by putting six sticks in a circle and adding some flags (bet you didn't know it was that easy to make your back yard sacred hey? - blue peter would be proud). Unable of course to create an authentic clay dome, we constructed the IKEA version with cane sticks and blankets. We then paid our respects to the trunk outside the sacred ground (The trunk did represent something but I wasn't paying much attention when he explained what) and then we entered the womb.

The ceremony began with Juan's words - 'now we will go around the group and express what problems we have in our lives at the moment and how we want to overcome them' (perhaps a line from the AA meetings? sorry)
Now, the thought of someone asking me 'how I feel about my life' or 'what goals I want to achieve ' fills me with dread. Like a typical Brit I can't just draw on these 'feelings' with a seconds notice. I need time to recall my vast knowledge of trashy American TV so that I can regurgitate phrases like - 'I want to re - connect with my body' or 'I want to love myself for who I am'.

After a standard 'I want to be happy' cop out, I began thinking about what I was actually doing. Admittedly, I was finding myself getting caught up in the pretense of the whole weekend and actually quite enjoying it. It was like nothing I had ever experienced and I was meeting some very intriguing characters. But the facts were these --- It was a hot Sunday afternoon, I was sweating profusely in a small dome of blankets in someone’s backyard, with nine other sweaty people - and a man wearing a headband was saying things like 'and now we shall establish the umbilical cord with mother earth'.

As the sauna ceremony progressed, I cunningly managed to manoeuvre into a position close to the ground where I could have a little snooze. But obviously it wasn’t just me having a wee kip because of the hot temperature, oh no, it happened 'so that the words of the Shaman could infiltrate my sub conscious and connect with my soul' according to the nice hippy lady. She also asked me whether I had been dreaming about fairies...
 'I had a vision of fairies dancing around your head whilst you were asleep - were you dreaming about them?'
Feeling the mood and not wanting to reveal the truth that I was actually dreaming about the next X factor episode, I replied...
'Yes, I think there were some...' (diva fever count?)
'What else were you dreaming about?'
'You know, my family and....traveling and stuff?' (that’s deep right?)

Finally after two hours, the door to the dome was opened and we were released or 'reborn'.

God bless the language barrier. Many times throughout the weekend my silence was reasoned with the fact that I didn't understand the Spanish.
'Do you understand what I'm saying?'
'No, not really, sorry'
'Oh I see, I am speaking too fast'.
Yes that’s it. Its got nothing to do with the fact that I wouldn't be able to understand what you were saying even if you were speaking English (did she just say that she was an eagle in her past life?)

So, I' m not sure the actual ceremony was the most authentic cultural experience I've ever had, but one thing I did enjoy about the weekend, was hearing about the Indigenous Argentinians. They are not people you hear very much about. When I think of Argentina, I basically picture a very European place, but there are indigenous groups around the country. In fact 3-5% of the total population are indigenous people living in rural communities with their own languages. The majority died out years ago, as there descendants integrated into Western civilization and according to the International Work Group for Indigenous Affairs, due to racial discrimination, many indigenous people now hide their true identity.

They also seem to suffer from the same problems affecting many indigenous groups around the world - the battle for land ownership and recognition in general.

So although I did not learn a lot about myself (not actually sure I want to find out 'who I am') I did learn a lot about other cultures here in Argentina. And just for the record, I am sure the Temazcal ceremony is a fascinating experience....in Mexico...with indigenous descendants of the people who created it....in a dome not made from sticks and blankets.

Photo of an Indian shaman. Now, meeting this guy would have been an interesting experience...

It's all relative

Men, do not get angry when I whinge about my weight, I am a woman, and it's my prerogative. 

If I am complaining about how fat I am, whilst eating a Dairy milk, do not point out the obvious - just shake your head and say 'you are perfect and you do not need to lose weight.' And then when I get angry at you 'because you have to say that', just say 'no, honestly you're normal size', and when I reply 'oh great so that means I am fat,' calmly reply 'look, if you were fat I would tell you'... etcetera. etcetera. That is your role in this whole farce - learn your lines, stick to them and never deviate from the script, as I am doing now..... oh yes, so, I worry about my weight.

Through travelling, something that I have found interesting, is the attitude of different people and places towards weight and image, and I have realised that, like many things, how you feel is just relative to your surroundings. Living in a Caribbean village in Costa Rica and now in Buenos Aires city, I have had two completely different environmental influences on the way I perceive myself.

Gallo Pinto - carb loading three times a day

There was certainly no pressure to look slim in Costa Rica. I quickly settled into the high carb diet of rice and beans (Gallo Pinto) with no guilt. Every other lady in the small village where I lived was on the 'plus side' - and did they care? They all wore tight Lycra shorts on a daily basis, of course they didn't care. I heard one woman once say 'I would like to lose a bit of weight', as the second helping of fried plantains and rice went down, but that was it. 

The lady who I lived with was very conscious of this 'western trend not to eat' and would try her utmost to feed me. Convinced I wasn't eating, I often had two lunches – one I ate myself and one I was forced to eat because she didn't believe I had eaten the first one. If I told her I wasn't hungry, she'd look confused - 'How? What do you mean? Why? Are u Ok?'
I once bought wholemeal bread from a nearby town, she saw me eating it and when I told her what it was she asked to try it. She took one mouthful, made a dramatic look of disgust and told me it wasn't real food. She then proceeded to tell every woman who came round about 'the incident' and they all lectured me about how bad it was to eat that kind of food. At one point, five of them circled me, asking questions in an interrogative manner - 'Do they eat this in England? Are all the girls thin? Why don't you eat rice everyday, is it because you think it's (laugh) fattening?!' They were highly amused at the thought of us eating this 'healthy food' and wasting our time on 'diets'. 
Oh yes, I was being mocked for eating wholemeal.

Peoples attitude to weight was a complete shock to me as well. As the months past, I was often told I had put on weight or was looking fat ('refreshingly honest'?... no. I side with the other cliche - 'ignorance is bliss') but it wasn't meant in an insulting way. A typical conversation could go... 

'Hi, haven't seen you in ages! How are you?'

'I'm fine thanks. You're looking a bit fat.'


A social no no in the UK which would merit a slap, but in Costa Rica it seemed like a way of saying 'oh you look well.'
I gradually got used to it but many visitors would drop their jaw in horror ('did he just say the F word?!')
Did I feel fat? Well, I knew I had put on weight (the drawstring never lies) but I didn't mind because relative to the other women I was still thinner, so I was happy.

Well now I am back in the city and the way I feel about myself has completely changed. Do I still feel slim compared to other women? Hell no - the Argentinians are svelt. And I do not know how they do it. As soon as I stepped off the plane, a giant Empanada greeted me with a sign saying - 'Welcome home Miss Batho.' 
I decided to ask a group of local women how they all kept so trim, expecting that usual, annoying lie of 'we workout and eat healthy', but no, they were straight to the point. 'Oh we don't eat, we just drink coffee and smoke.' I have seen this diet before in many European countries, it's the  'screw health, I just want cracking thighs' attitude. 

Americas Next Top Model is another example which demonstrates how your size is just relative to the people you are with. I have problems with the way the models are described. Every time that Tyra says 'Because you are a curvy girl...', the doughnut hits the screen. No, no, no Tyra you CANNOT have that word, that word was designed specifically for real girls with wobbly love handles, as a way of describing their physique.That is OUR euphemism.
(Man - 'she's a bit fat', Woman - 'no, she's cuuuuurvy.')
Just because a model is a size 2 instead of a size 0, does not give her the right to use that word. It was invented for us. Come on now, play fair.

So the message of this blog? Don't waste your time and money on diets, gyms, fads.... save your pennies, buy plane tickets for you and everyone who is a significant part of your life (this may cost, but it'll be worth it) and relocate to a country where the big ladies are the winners. Easy. 

Too far Tyra, just too far.

OK image chat over.

Don´t flatter yourself (go to Central America and they'll do it for you)

Anyone who has travelled Central or South America has been there... "Que guapa....oh linda... que ojos....preciosa..."

Wherever I go in Latin America, for some reason I am always considered more attractive just because I am a 'gringa'. No matter how beautiful the local women are, and some of the women I have seen are textbook beauties, many Latino men find European looking girls with fairer features attractive, regardless of how these women would be rated in their own country (my nice way of saying 'regardless of whether they are a moose or not').

In Costa Rica, it began as a massive ego boost– and I actually enjoyed the compliments* - lured into a false sense of attractiveness, for a second I started thinking -  maybe I am just really, really god damn good looking? Then, my traveling indifference to appearance set in, I started wearing no make up, not brushing my hair, and wearing unflattering sweat stained travelers clothes.... and the compliments kept on coming...hmmm.  I started to suspect it was not because of what I looked like but more about where I was from.

Was my sexy foreign accent doing it? In my head, when I spoke Spanish, there was a chance I sounded like  'ze sexy french gurl aspeakin english' but when I put this to my Spanish speaking friends – they just laughed. I guess not.

So why do us 'gringas' receive so much attention?

Lets get Biological. I once read an article that said sexual dimorphism may play a role in why foreigners appear more attractive. Sexual dimorphism is the physical difference between males and females of the same species and it can influence mating choice. In dimorphic species, males that possess the more opposing traits to the female – e.g larger size, more colourful feathers, bigger horns etc.are the more attractive, as they represent greater fitness (think peacock tail - the brighter the better). Foreign woman are physically more 'different' in regards to hair colour, eye colour etc. – could this be why they are more attractive? It´s a slightly odd theory with some major problems, and sexual dimorphism in humans is a controversial topic anywhooo so I'll leave that one there. Just some food for thought.

Is it cultural perception? Men are going to find attractive what is deemed attractive by their society and for some cultures this may be something unique like small feet (China). Perhaps the influence of western media in some Latin American countries has changed many societies perception of what an attractive woman is, and those who are 'physically similar' (e.g. eye colour and skin colour) to the big Hollywood beauties like Jennifer Aniston and Cameron Diaz, are thus considered attractive, regardless of whether they have a face like a horses behind or not. In Costa Rica I was often compared to celebrities I look nothing like, simply because we share white skin and the local people were only used to seeing that on the TV.

Another reason we may get so many compliments is because of what a travelling white girl represents to a lot of people, which, lets face it, is money. No doubt this is very attractive to a lot of men looking for an English sugar mama, and perhaps they think complimenting is a good way to get you interested. Flattery will get you n where hombres.

Am I thinking about this too much and is it the simple fact that many men give us gringas attention because we have a reputation for being easy...? Probably.

There is also the fact that Latino men are far more passionate and honest about their feelings -endearing at times, comic at others. Perhaps they aren't being pervy when they tell you how pretty you are, this is just how they are wired. However, I do feel there is most definitely a line. The other day, whilst walking down the street, I was rated by an old man. Yes thats right- he shouted out a mark out of 10 like I was on the cat walk - and this guy was the older side of 60 (I won't tell you what mark I got - lets just say, from an old perv, it could have been better).

How to react when you do get complimented? One of my friends laughs, another one gets scarily defensive and shouts back– normally something like 'get lost you pervert' (this is when I start running). I just roll my eyes with the routine 'oh god you are soooo annoying' look, but secretly stash the compliment away for when I'm having a fat day.

Diaz and me - yep we're practically sisters

(*I use compliment in the pervy sense of the word - perhaps leer/harassment would be more appropriate)

Fish have gills for a reason

Last weekend my friend Luke and I decided to head to Tigre, a renowned tourist hot spot here in Buenos Aires recommended by a lot of the locals – ‘its beautiful, go there to get away from the city’… so after a quick look at some websites about Tigre we decided to go, and head off with preconceived ideas of luscious greenery, elegant architecture, and clear waters. Stepping out the train station, the place seemed quite pleasant – not exactly what we were expecting- the greenery was limited, but quite pretty… and then we stepped onto the bridge just outside the station, and took a look into the River Tigre… this Tigre was a hungry kitty and by the looks of things had been snacking on fish, a lot of fish.

Tigre - a privileged place...

Now, the photos I have taken in no way do justice to what we saw (taking pictures of fish is hard FYI), looking over the railings you could see a spread of dead fish floating at the river surface, many washed to the sides, thus easier for us to enjoy. Any fish that were alive were at the surface breathing – looking like they were gasping for breath. It was very apparent that there was not enough oxygen available for them to breath under the water – probably due to contamination. Fish have gills for a reason.

The most shocking thing however was not the dead fish per se but the reaction of the local people – the juxtaposition of happy families enjoying the scenery from a river boat whilst beneath them hundreds of fish were dying, or the elite rower wearing his club crest proudly as he hit a limp fish with his blade, was very strange. I felt an injustice for those helpless fish, gasping for their last breath whilst we were exploiting their habitat. Every one has seen a polluted river but you rarely see the direct affects like this.

On top of this, a walk further up the river showed people fishing? Seems a bit like cheating to me – but good luck to them if they’re brave enough to eat anything that comes from that river.

Thinking that perhaps this was an abnormal scene in Tigre and some freak event had caused all these deaths, I asked a local policeman why there were so many dead fish in the river. He replied with a common nonchalant response – the river is really contaminated and no one does anything about it – oh ok then.

Fish + fuel leak = unhappy fish(dead)

Given that not many people feel as sentimental towards fish as I do – the fish are just a mere indication of how polluted the river is which in turn can have detrimental affects on the health of the people that live there.

Tigre is located on the Parana Delta and the Tigre river is a tributary of the Rio Reconquista. A quick google search proves very interesting, many scientific papers reporting that the river is ’supercritical’ and one of the most contaminated rivers in Argentina. According to many of the studies, there are high levels of ‘POPs’ (persistent organic pollutants) which can cause adverse health affects in people such as allergies, breathing problems and even death.

How did these pollutants end up in the river? The increase in population around the area has led to an increase in industry and therefore the amount of industrial waste discharged into the river. In some places the industrial waste toxicity is 10 times higher than it should be. What are the authorities doing about the problem? Nada. There are inadequate regulations for waste treatment and industries have no- one stopping them discarding waste into the river.

Interestingly, many papers report that in times of economic recession, the river has shown signs of recovery, presumably due to the decrease in industry… bad times for the people, good times for the fishies….

One scientific paper I found wrote this – ‘the idea that rivers are a convenient means of cleaning and carrying pollution away from the discharge point should be urgently reconsidered worldwide in order to protect water quality, ecosystems and human health.’ Well said.

Dead fish at the bottom of the steps

What we are seeing is something that we can see in most cities but even more so here in Buenos Aires, environmental problems taking a back seat.