Harmony

* this entry from 2/8 *

Harmony, Club Atletico River Plate
Blurred buildings and weenie dogs, trees and small cars. The wind blows through the open window. The person seated next to me taps my shoulder, Paula hands me a ticket, tells me that I can’t bring beverages or writing utensils into the stadium. I nod and turn back to watch the scenery whiz by. As street signs become visible, I plot coordinates on my map. Near the end of Av. Figueroa Alcorta, the bus stops. A herd of tourists follows Paula, our Portena guide and Boca Fan, as she walks towards the giant concrete dome of Club Atletico River Plate.

This afternoon's soccer match – River Plate vs. Colon de Santa FE. What I anticipate inside - passionate fans and charged energy. What I don’t anticipate – losing my entry ticket.

At the gates, one by one fellow tourists hand in their ticket. The uniformed man motions for me to hand him mine. In my hands are a map and a half-eaten bag of crackers. I dig in my pockets – elephant wallet and a bobby pin. More people crowd behind me, no one looks familiar. Stepping, aside I continue to search, rummaging through my small daypack - pigeon seeds, this journal, writing utensils, and no ticket. Paula and the bus group have passed the gates.

I ask a man where can I pay tickets, ask the lady selling River flags and t-shirts where can I buy tickets. I follow in the direction of their pointed fingers.

Through tall gates, behind a booth, the man asks which [insert Spanish words]. Choosing the cheapest option on the list, I respond, “cincuenta pesos, por favor.”

A ticket later, I’m back to gate-man. He smiles and lets me into the concrete interior of the stadium.

A lady searches bags, surveys are being taken, people dressed in red and white, uniformed police officers, flyers with images of soccer players are handed out. Walking through alphabetical sections, I stop to ask a police officer for directions. He points vaguely. Along the way, others from the bus are spotted and I sit nearby. For the ‘guided’ excursion costing 180 pesos, entry to the stadium could have cost only 50.

The field is bright green, the players are scrimmaging. Vendors carrying boxes of helados, Saladix, and Dots zigzag through the seats. The crowd cheers. At the other end of the stadium a collage of red and white pulses. “Oye”, chanting and whistling. As the game commences, a rain of paper sparkles silver in the sunlight. With a hotdog and ice cream, Ninja turtle and I join in the energy. A fight breaks out in the section adjacent. Flags are waved back and forth. The man next to me is on his eighth cigarette. He lifts his arms and shakes his head. In the midst of the fans’ enthusiasm and energy, their curse words and chants, a dandelion seed floats above the crowd.



The match’s outcome – 2 : 2, which caused much controversy, causing the police to allow Colon fans to leave the stadium first. Though secretly, it was the outcome I had hoped for; I like ties.




Cheers, Ostinatto rooftop
It’s my last evening in Buenos Aires. We meet at the rooftop terrace – the ladies (Miriam, Jess, and Jenni) and the expedition crew. Over bottles of Coca Light Jenni shows us pictures of her family, Miriam teaches me how to use Facebook, and with the expedition crew we take self-timed photos. They are lovely people.





Miriam and Jess, as nurses, work with children. Jenni is a social worker and has volunteer trips lined up from Argentina to Guatemala for the next 11months. There is a warmness to them, a nurturing nature. They expressed concern the day I learned the consequence of drinking too much espresso. It takes a lot of courage to do what they do -- to be the person who can provide a terminally ill child a loving departure or the person who patiently guides a troubled youth in the right direction.

On our way to bed that evening, Jenni says to me, “I hope you find home.”

Cheers to the ladies.