First Day and First Date

Fall of 1971

Lots of walking here. I go downtown and pick up my shoes. They have been resoled.

I go back to Lili’s apartment for lunch. We have mashed potatoes, sausages, and huge asparagus. She goes downtown and I type articles for paper. I go to the bookstore to meet her and we go for coffee. We meet Peching – Lili goes to a meeting and Peching and I talk a bit. He is so very nice. He starts to walk me home. We stop at a gallery where his friend has an exhibition. Wood reliefs..everything insideout. Really marvelous long graceful figures. One is entitled “Biafro” with starved figures and children with bloated stomaches – very powerful. I meet the artist who has a shock of white hair and piercing black eyes: he looks like Mark Twain.

I eat early because I have a date with Hugo Garcia ( a musician I met on the train). I have a cold plate with sliced tomatoes with a dab of mayonnaise, a slice of cold beef with boiled egg, olives, pickles, and a pickled green pepper. It is so good. Then comes baked fish with cheese sauce and mashed potations. It is so rich I cannot eat it all! Mama Bassi is a fabulous cook. I can see why she had her own T.V. cooking show!

I go to meet Hugo. He really looks nice with a suit and yellow shirt. We walk around talking, go down to the port, through the park and finally to a club right across from my house.

The club has a nice red carpet, wide stairs and a fish tank. We go to a booth – it is pitch black dark. I start talking. I don’t like being in the dark because I can’t read lips—plus other dangers…He orders us whiskeys and talks about sociology of the life of young people. He says some people, for example students, live much freer while others stay close to tradition. He says that Bs As is more like the U.S. as far as lifestyle.

I can hear the creaking of booths around us. Then the courting begins (music is very loud and I am really guessing at what is being said) He has hands like an octopus. Saying lovely things…

Hugo: “Linda, divina…’

Carol: “Si si”.

Hugo: “Si??”

Carol: “Momento…que me dijiste??..Creo que no. Voy a casa.”

He walks me home and kisses me good night. Very sweet. Asks me for a date next week. I say okay.

Mama Bassi is still up and we talk. I tell her about “octopus hands” and we laugh and laugh. To bed.

Thoughts from Today

As I re-read this journal from so long ago, I am struck by the depth of knowledge of the ordinary people I met in Argentina – the everyday acceptance of art and knowledge as being as essential to life as water and air. Lili and Milko’s apartment was filled with art and books while meals were truly individual works of art. Of course, my “Mama Rosarina”, Mrs. Olga Bassi, was a genuine chef. Lili (or Luli as she was called) was also a good cook. I recall the day she made a pan of “flan” for our supper.

Luli: How do you say “flan” in English?”

Carol: Let me taste.

Carol: I think “flan” is “flan” in English

Luli: (Later after the two of us have eaten the entire pan) I guess I will make another flan for Milko’s supper now.

Lili and Milko had two bookstores which were truly hubs for people to meet—people would meet there, visit or leave notes for friends who would come by. I am also struck by how fortunate I was to live totally immersed in the culture. I was actually living as a Rosarina (from Rosario).

This was also my first time to realize how puritanical I really am. I had bought a two piece bathing suit at a re-sale shop with my sister Billie. I remember thinking that it was pretty racy – boy short shorts and a bra top. I asked Billie if she thought it would be okay for me to wear it and she thought a bit, then said, “I think it will be fine.” So with my sister’s approval, I went off to Argentina. Then on the beach, I was shocked that all women were wearing, not two piece bathing suits, but thongs!! I remember I couldn’t even look at them! And nobody was a bit embarrassed except me!

I wrote, “At beach… God all the girls here have beautiful bodies and bikinis.  The boys are so pretty.  I feel so tall.”

I am also struck by how good people were to this stranger from the United States. While I recall people asking me why the “yankis” were in Vietnam, I never felt that it was personal—although I was shocked to be lumped with yankees! See