THE PURPOSE OF RUNNING
Two recent comments about running have made me ponder the purpose of running for Argentines (and I’m sure many Americans and other people). The first was Marisa, who had heard from her masseuse that running, as a high-impact exercise, causes cellulite, and for that reason, she will only walk rapidly. While it may cause cellulite, a purely cosmetic issue, the positive effects on the cardio-vascular system, muscles, endurance, and overall health outweigh the dimples that I may get in my thighs.
The second was a comment from a man as I was running past him, “Sos tan bella, ¿para qué corres?” (“You’re so beautiful, why do you need to run?”) It just seemed to reaffirm the mentality that running is something you do only to be more physically attractive, and if you’re already adequately good looking, running serves no other purpose.
DISPARITY BETWEEN INCOME AND COST OF LIVING
A few months ago, I helped an older couple, Ernesto and Clelia, with their U.S. visa applications so that they could attend a family bat mitzvah in Los Angeles – it was both their first time traveling outside of Argentina. They had been invited by Ernesto’s cousins that he hadn’t seen in 57 years.
After they returned, I went to visit Clelia at her shop, and hearing her reaction to the U.S. family’s standard of living gave a real-life example of the disparities that affect Argentines. She was amazed by the monstrous house of Ernesto’s cousin where they stayed – it was a NINE bedroom house for two retirees. She noted that their two apartments in Buenos Aires plus their two childrens' apartments would equal the size of the one house in L.A.
She mentioned that nobody in the U.S. could believe that she and Ernesto both worked about ten hours a day in non-professional positions (they’re actually both officially retired, but their pensions don’t cover the cost of living, so she works at an upscale shoe and handbag shop and Ernesto works as the coordinator of his son’s athletic club).
All of the U.S. cousins are retired or on vacation and were available to be with Clelia and Ernesto the entire two weeks. Now, one of the families wants to come down here and visit them, but Clelia’s concerned about not being able to be adequate hosts. One issue is that getting time off from their jobs is not as easy (it seemed that this was the first time either of them had taken a full two weeks off). Another is the fact that there isn’t any space to even have their own family in one house; Ernesto and Clelia split their time between their children’s families, because nobody has a large enough apartment to host 3-4 families.
She visited a friend of hers that lives in L.A., and to compare the life that she was able to obtain in the U.S. seemed to make Clelia a bit disheartened. Her friend had moved there when she was in her 50s, and now has a very large apartment, a newer car, and she works in a similar position as Clelia for fewer hours.
She also commented that the pace of life in the U.S. was so much more relaxed than in Buenos Aires. Upon considering this, I understood what she meant – when you’re caught up in the rush and traffic of the city and working 10-12 hours a day just to make ends meet, it gets extremely wearing. I reminded myself of the fortunate position that I have here in Buenos Aires: to be living on U.S. dollars, rarely needing to get anywhere quickly or at high traffic hours, and having no financial attachments in the city, such as property or family. We both noted the irony that we wanted to be in the other’s country.
LENDING A HAND
Even despite everyone’s lack of basic resources here or squandering to obtain the most minimal standard of living, I saw two inspiring acts of kindness today. I was walking by the Museo Argentino de Ciencias Naturales and was amazed by all of the stray cats that lived within the gates of the museum. I hadn’t really seen too many strays in the city, but those on the museum grounds seemed to be pretty content in their confines. Then, on my way back, I saw a woman pouring cat food into small plastic bowls and scattering the bowls around the fence. It was such a sweet sight.
Not only twenty minutes later was I walking down an interior residential street, not paying attention to anyone around me, until I saw a man take out a bag of pastries from his grocery bag and hand it to a couple sitting on the street before getting into his car. For the hard, haughty stereotype that porteños have, I’d have to say that these two individuals softened my opinion.
