(Days in Rosario were long and full— filled with the types of activities described in the above article. I loved being with Lili everywhere she went. Here are a few more of of our goings-on from my Trip Book.)
Lili and I go downtown. Business is so bad Lili doesn’t know if they will be able to go (to Mar del Plata with me) or not. I love Lili so much. She, Christina and I go to Feria – We talk to Tucuman Indians. Big Tucuman lady has dignity in her eyes; three older women are absolute hams singing for visitors. Carlos Sanders is a young man with gentle eyes and hands. When he talks to me, he puts his hand on top of my head. I wonder how he got his name. We see movie about Cordoba – artisans – misery poor faces – full of hopelessness. Dear God when will we learn that all people are human. Back home, Mama Bassi comes in from another movie. She looks so smart. She tells me about it. I understand a little. We have a cup of tea and talk.
I don’t think Milko likes Lili hanging out with Christina.
Saturday, we go to Milko’s mother’s house which is very little but nicer than I expected after Lili told me it was falling down. His mother is tiny with enormous eyes and speaks Spanish with an accent—Hungarian? Lili’s married name is Szuhanszky. His mother makes homemade fideos that Lili raves about. I watch her making them. We eat asado which is so good and a chocolate desert with egg whites that is soooo rich. Lili and I spend night with Milko’s mother. We sit up late — me writing letters and Lili playing with I Ching.
The next day Lili and I go next door to Maraquita and Roberto’s house and visit them and their children, Carolina, blonde and Fabian with beautiful brown eyes. I drank mate for the first time here. Roberto makes it in a small pot with metal straw. He hands it to me. I wonder, “Do I drink it all?” I finally ask Lili who says yes. He repeats the procedure for everyone around and around our circle. It has a strong taste, bitter yet is pleasant. We drive outside city to beach where we drink more mate. There is a group of people with an accordion sitting under a tree singing. On the beach, when someone finds a lost child, they clap hands until the parents come. The beach is absolutely filled with beautiful bodies. Looks Italian to me. There is a marvelous view of the city on the Parana. All ages are there, not just young people. I think this would be a good country to be old in.
Monday, I got call from Christina in B.A. saying there is a job interview tomorrow with an English ad agency. Lili and I rush around change money, and I buy shoes and a bag.
Tuesday: Up early and LIli and Milko pick me up to go to train station. The train leaves at 8:30 with me and many notes from Lili filled with instructions. Taking a trip to Buenos Aires on the train— going past fields of huge yellow sunflowers, weeping willows, orange orchards, fields of maize and huge blue wild flowers — passing through luxurious, rich land in contrast to the miserable huts – an old woman in a sweater sits with folded hands watching the train pass—two ragged children are carrying a pail of water and stop to look at the train with its human cargo racing past their narrow pasture. Magnificent trees—all tall and stately, rich pastureland with fat cows grazing. There is a group of gauchos sitting in a grove of weeping willows, their horses tied to a tree, their mate boiling over the campfire as they mutely watch the train.
We go past villas, miserias (slums) green foliage partially covers the misery underneath. Pampas are rolling not just flat – there are many arroyos cutting across them. Huge stands of eucalyptus trees outline the farms. The greenery here somehow seems wilder than in the states. In the suburbs of BA, there are the usual political signs and one scribbling that mentions heroin with a drawing of a syringe and grass. We pass a house with a sign that says “Little Darling”. I wonder what strange motive prompted that sign?
The retiro (train station) in B.A. is huge—nuns walking along in the crowd, beautiful little boy in short pants – all the little boys have white skins, enormous brown eyes, John John haircuts and short pants. Go to long line for taxis, wait and wait finally get one to and go to Christina’s office. (See _https://westtexaswhisperings.com/archers-argentina/an-afternoon/_____)
The next day (jobless), when I get back to the train station in Rosario after this trip, I get in line for a taxi – a shady character asks me if I want a car – a businessman in front of me turns around and shakes his head. I say no. Then businessman and I exchange smiles as he leaves. Beautiful people here. He heard my accent and warned me. Home to Mama Rosarina.
Looking Back
Present Day Reflections
I loved being with Lili and we continued to correspond regularly after I left. She and Milko had three children and several years later migrated from Argentina to Brazil—I think for economic reasons. I know that she and the children were going to Brazil on a bus which was stopped by guerillas—they were ok but she talked about how terrifying it was. In Brazil, she developed breast cancer and passed away from that.
Writing these posts has been a bittersweet experience because I have relived some of the absolute joy that I experienced with her (and her family and friends) and some of the terror (one time she decided to drive us somewhere…Lili had never driven and also had vision issues – it ranked up there with my first night in the Mar del Plata hotel room for fear level!). And always, the laughter and love.
In 1990, I had a book entitled Living with Strangers in the USA: Communicating beyond Culture published and part of my acknowledgments read…To the many international friends and students whose lives form the basis for these stories, from Liliana Bassi to Mari and Kumar, thank you….From Seminole High School where she influenced so many of us in our small West Texas town to the streets of Rosario where she educated me about space (I was saying excuse me to everyone that I came close to on the crowded streets of Rosario—Lili turned around and said in English, “What is wrong with you? Stop saying excuse me to everybody!” I used that as an example for many years when I would teach international students about the importance of personal space in the USA. She also pointed out that I couldn’t just kiss anybody hello whenever I wanted to—that there had to be a relationship before greeting with a kiss. And the hours of talks and naps and cortados….and always the flan.