Last Tango in Buenos Aires

Emotionally Unavailable Men and Women

I have been ensconced in a converted barn in the Black Mountains of Wales finishing up the first draft of 'Men With Axes' - a lonely endeavour but thankfully my barn is surrounded by lovelorn sheep and fronted by a tiny, ancient pub full of bluff Welsh farmers at all hours of the day or night and not a fanta in sight.

I am thankful to all the wonderful women who have sent me their (horror) stories. Many have been incorporated into the novel/script (more on that) as illumination for others.

I now really believe that in reality EUMs do not exist and that as women it is entirely within our power to manage our love lives effectively. First, to backtrack, EUMs do exsist but we know who they are when we meet them. The problem we have is that we seek to adapt and manoeuvre the male instead of accepting - ergo desperation. If we accepted out fabulousness and moved on from men that were not working for us instead of desperately clinging on, hoping and begging that it will work against all odds, we would be a great deal happier.

Hopefully the book will inspire women to stick together anf have more fun as they try on their various men for size. Really - dating as many men as possible is the way to go. You don't go into TopShop without trying on ten different outfirs and asking your girlfriends how they fit - dating is just a shopping expedition.

Emotional Unavailability and the Text Message

I love this quote from Jean-Pierre in Montreal, the writer of www.lazingarina.blogspot.com in a comment she made on 'Missing Buenos Aires (or Not)

  'If you're lucky, the guy will do something stupid and sleazy right away so you know to move on. If you're not, he waits till after the getting to know you period, when you two are already involved. That's when its especially painful.'

Men seem to do this a great deal, the hooking you in emotionally and then running away. We tend to call it fear, commitmentphobia or emotional unavailabliity, when the reality could be that they are stoking up their egos. It comes back to the concept of 'Bad Choices'. J-P resents the fact that the choice seems to come down to women as though we are somehow the 'Moral Guardians' of choices and men are allowed to simply be irresponsible but this is not something new and is driven by biology. The irresponsibility we see now in 'Emotional Unavailability' comes from too many choices for men and this is entirely our own fault in how we have handled the Women's Liberation Movement.

The sisters who fought through the sixties (and before) for the sexual revolution are probably horrified at the outcome in young women today. Women now want to enjoy a 'quick shag' that cannot possibly be fulfilling for the numbers that claim it. (Women's biology is simply not created equal to a man's). So now, rather than holding more power in our sexual choices, we have meekly handed the power back to men. With the pill and easy sex, they don't have to get married or pretend to be in a relationship to get sex - they simply text you for it. And in our own backlash against the liberation movement, we not only go along with it, we take it to the extreme. There would not be porn everywhere you look if we did not encourage it.

After my relationship with the BD, I will never again allow text 'romance' - it is simply an excuse to remain distant while demanding what you want - sex and emotional commitment. It's like the cabaceo in tango - I won't do it - If you haven't got the balls to come and ask me for a dance/shag then go elsewhere.

The choice is ours - IF we have the strength to make it. Women as usual, are in competition with each other - now it's not who can catch the most eligible husband, but who can be the biggest slapper. Men won't change until WE make them.

Emotionally Unavailable Men - Everywhere

I am hugely ensconced in the screenplay for 'Men With Axes' and as ever what is being written reflects into life - and vice versa.

Some women - people - are naturally more passionate, romantic than others (Those others might call it obsessive, foolhardy). We carry a torch for a man, wear him in our lapel like a brooch even though he is far away. Our friends say 'Move On' or this state of being is 'Unrequited' but do we only love when it is returned? It seems somewhat calculating. Last weekend I saw Joseph Fiennes in 'Cyrano de Bergerac' as a man who loved his cousin for fifteen years and died without telling her - Why do we not have romance like this in our lives any longer. Move on. Get Over It.

But I digress. There have been motions that it was simply my bad choices that created the fraught relationships in Argentina. While I do not discount the fact that the bad boy is generally more appealing (and as Carlos told me, men prefer women that way too), it is hard to imagine that the vast majority of the women in Argentina are all making the same poor choices. Maybe there are no good choices available. For at least a decade it has been my theory that the men who are able to form relationships do so - Hence the adage 'All the good ones are taken' - and all the others are swimming around in a pool of 'Bad choices'.

I always felt in Argentina that the men were operating in a microcosm of the 1950s - sometimes even the 1850s. Relations were like something out of 'Tess of the D'Urbevilles' where the cad was always disappearing and leaving you with a life in ruins. Or they were something like the pre-liberation movement years when women were possessions in the home like the car in the garage, looking after children or ancients, while the men went off together and had all the fun.

The men were stuck and had not yet caught up with What Women Want now. Still needing to look after -  read 'dominate' - their woman when women are capable of looking after themselves and want a partner to stimulate them in multiple forms. They are still looking at women as they look at their Mothers. But we are not their Mothers - we are no longer our Mothers. We might have a long wait for the stragglers to catch up.

The answer? There is no answer. Every single answer to this question is the same set of games to play and repressing of your personality to suit his caprice. Forget it. He needs to get with the new Woman (And once they get it - the good ones like it. Only the controllers resist). The answer is to get out there with your girlfriends - Adventure, discover yourself, do some challenging things and watch how the men will start flocking around fascinated.

Missing Buenos Aires (or Not)

Although I have moved out of Buenos Aires and am currently spending the summer in England and Wales, I am not done with South America and certainly not finished with the precipitous learning curve of dealing with 'love'. (Novel/screenplay of Argentine/expat love affairs currently in production). I simply could not cope with Buenos Aires for another instant. WHY? Are the people really more unpleasant there than they are anywhere else in the world? The answer quite quickly became yes.

Apart from the fact that for someone who loves mountains. Buenos Aires may possibly be the worst place in the world - humid, low, flat and not one speck of nature for hundreds of miles all around, it is also full of people who really couldn't give a damn.

Portenos are arrogant. Okay many Mediterranean races are termed arrogant but none seem quite so lacking of any reason for the characteristic as those native to Buenos Aires. The violent body checkers swarming the streets of downtown are the worst offenders. Portenos are phoney. I have heard expats from other nations say that at least in their own country they know when someone hates them. Here they pretend to be your best friend, promise the world and then bitch about you to everyone you know. All that kiss-kissing and fake politesse is simply a cover up for how misanthropic they really are - It goes with the jealousy.

Oh yes - Portenos are jealous. Schadenfreude is alive and well and growing like a weed in Buenos Aires. Portenos are greedy - In a world economic crisis when the first world countries are lowering prices to remain economically viable, Portenos are aggressively raising prices daily. My rent went up 20% and my expenses 100% - the landlady expected me to pay for the maintenance to the old building. When I gave notice - she tried, is trying, to sue me and 'reported me' to the British Embassy. These people want it all their own way. Take in the good times - take more in the bad times.

Argentina seems angry that so many expats are now living in their country, taking advantage of low prices. They seem to forget that without us living there, their economy would not have recovered so quickly - or maybe they really just want tourists - so much easier to steal from, no questions asked. Many people applying for residence permits are being refused now. They created the 'rentista' category and you only required 2400 pesos (about £450) per month of income earned from outside the country in order to qualify. Now people with tens of thousands in the bank are being refused because they aren't property owners 'earning' rent. Portenos are stupid - or maybe it's just irrational. Nothing they do makes any sense.

After having my most treasured possessions stolen by customs, having to pay fortunes for a residence permit that needs to be renewed every year, having to pay fortunes to bring a few more possessions into the country (which also needs to be renegotiated every year), having to wait more than a year for the privilege of an identity card (something sane people are strongly resisting in the UK) and having to find someone to guarantee your rent in order to be allowed to live in an apartment not valued in US dollars - Buenos Aires, a city that barely functions and has become as expensive as Europe, Simply was not worth it any more.

Argentina outside of Buenos Aires is a completely different place and the people are a totally different race. And they have beautiful mountains.

Ice Water

What do I miss most about Argentina? Patagonia and Glaciars, nada mas.

Being in England where cranky old toilets use 20 gallons of purified water to flush away a little pee and a plastic tomato planter ordered off the internet arrives packaged in enough boxes to protect a dresden figurine, we realise that some people aren't too bothered about waste.

And it won't be long before the tour buses and Americans jetting into EL Calafate for the day to 'do' Big Ice will have destroyed the beautiful purity of water.

Waco in the Delta

There is a lot of fakery going on in Buenos Aires these days. Firstly the expats acting the nouveau-hippie lifestyle, cooking the potato diet on a camping stove and indulging in 'monogamy-free' days and then the Porteno hippies who have recently discovered dreadlocks and global warming (without allowing this to interfere with their ingrained love of plastic).

I especially love it when a man starts wafting on about how there are no stereotypes and we are all individuals - There's never too long to wait before some predicatable behaviour ensues. A case in point -  our trip to the Tigre Delta this Easter weekend to write an article on the 'Eco-Village'  in progress.

Despite the leaflets being vigorously distributed at the port regarding management of Dengue Fever, the 'Village' consisted of one rickety house on stilts surrounded by 50m of jungle and one terrifyingly turgid trough of water - a pit in the ground. The 'Eco-Warrior' was cooking at his stove when we arrived and put our supplies in his ancient fridge-freezer which must have been blowing out enough CFCs for a small Asian nation.

He stopped and informed us that he would take us to the almacen where we could buy supplies. He proceeded to order massive plastic containers of water, massive plastic containers of cooking oil and massive plastic containers of Bleach then looked at us with limpid eyes when the bill was presented. As one of us rummaged for money (obviously not me), he proceeded to order beers that were quickly added to the bill.

Soon his disciple, B., appeared and more beers were ordered while the Warrior regaled us with tales of his 10-year journey with his 'Village' and how it was soon going to become a sanctuary when the Global Economic Crisis finally hits Argentina later this year. 'You cannot imagine how many riots there will be in the streets'. He soon switched to more invigorating tales of his many Portena friends and how they spend each day at the office planning some teatime assignation before going home to their Husband; 'Taxi drivers, bus drivers, pizza delivery boys - One told me, "do you know the best orgasm I had in my life was with the portero in my sick aunt's building" '. 

'There are four more beers to be paid for. B. go pay for the beers'. Off trotted the disciple to pay his tab and on the walk back to the 'Village' she grabbed me. 'He's trying to figure out which one of you he's going to sleep with', she muttered as though he was about to get out his machete for more than the foliage surrounding the village. 'He sleeps with every single woman that comes here.' The Eco-Retreat as Love Shack then. B. was looking quite wild-eyed and desperate to escape after a month in the jungle.

'He tells me he quite likes it that I'm fat as it means he can have me all to himself'. Was she quite proud of this?  She was refusing to indulge him any more as he told her right after sleeping with her the first time that he had a woman in the city he was madly in love with. However, there is only one bed in the Love Shack. 'Every night in bed, he tells me; 'No tenes ninguno idea cuanto te quiero'.

Later that night he decided which one of us was to be graced with his election for a Rapidito. Personally I don't care to sully myself with the village tart but I cannot speak for others. Beware the atorrante.

 

Last Tango?

What a beautiful house you can have in Cafayate for l ess than half the price of a tipo loft in Buenos Aires and without the hassle of the Garantia or paying a year's rent in advance. How terrifying it is to think of leaving the city,any city when that is all you have known your entire life and moving in with the wild dogs.

It is probably the dream of almost everyone here to leave and live in Europe, while so many there would prefer the savage freedom of here. At least this is what I am told by every Porteno I am connected with. When I went with the Coronel last week to the Gendarmaria in Retiro, the officials all looked at me as though I was on Day Release - saying 'WHY do you want a DNI?'

Decisions don't come easy. Regrets can be so painful. I am consulting the stars, the animal guides, the runes for any possible clue.

Eco-Patagonia

We in England have a tendency to hop swiftly onto bandwagons, especially if they are driven by the likes of Posh Spice. So when the whole Eco-marketing ploy went into operation, I went into reverse. I had always, just naturally out of common-sense respect for the Earth, re-used and recyled. What is the point of paying good money for ECO-Goods while wasting thousands of gallons of treated water to flush a little pee-pee?

 Something about Patagonia has got me on a bandwagon now. I did happen to see Al Gore's film 'An Inconvenient Truth' just before travelling and maybe his vivid depiction of retreating glaciares has contributed to my sense of injustice. The sight of Lago Nunez, the bird sanctuary in El Calafate, currently underwater from the melted glaciar was awakening.

 

Human beings have lost not only their sense but their sensuality. Not only was I frustrated last night at Vaca Profana, listening, or attempting to listen to a band play over the top of two women yakking but in El Calafate it seemed wrong that American Lawyers jet in for one day to tick the Glaciar off their 'Been There, Done It'  list whilst yakking full blast about where they were off to next.

As a City, El Calafate is obviously ruined. The old gravel road to the Glaciar now replaced with a superhighway. At least Men With Axes try to keep the glaciar pristine by insisting that you remove every shred of garbage and by totally forbidding smoking. But where were Men With Axes the day we went frente a frente with Mount Fitzroy and some idiot from New Jersey who could be heard yakking across the Moraine although he was just a tiny speck on the horizon, jumped into pristine Lago de Los Tres. (You are not allowed bathe in the waters and even when camping, have to take water from its source and wash 30 metres distant).

 El Chalten is going the same way. Construction of hotels everywhere. Ruta 40 currently being paved to facilitate more tourist buses.

 

I came across a note in my journal from travelling to Puerto Madryn in 2007 - 'What a disastrous testament to human existence Patagonia is. Rumbling across the esteppe with a vista of thousands of plastic bags trapped in the gorse, blown there by the wind and held captive forever'. At least El Calafate and El Chalten have banned plastic bags from shops now. What about the mega-pervasive mineral water bottles? Post Carneval at Guayleguaychu, the streets were a nuevo mountain of plastic. We don't need them. But then again we don't need most of the things we thing we can't live without.

   

 

Patagonia - Big, Big Ice

Not done with glaciares yet. After trekking Cerro Torre in El Chalten, I found an addiction to ice that I suspected I might have - it's always been a desire of mine to trek the Khumbu Icefall right after Everest Base Camp.

 

Taking the bus from El Chalten to El Calafate along Ruta 40 in the most pefect weather of the week was extreme frustration. The weather is Patagonia is so irrational, but this is what being a mountain lover is - learning patience for the elements. As one traveller pointed out - 'It hardly seems fair that we have suffered and punished our bodies only to have the most fantastic view from the bus.'

 

It was a view from the Gods. No I didn't snap it. I refuse to snap through bus windows - It means I doubt a return some day.

 

El Calafate was conquered after a bus malfunction. This town exists solely for tourism and man does it show. The road though town choked with tour buses. The sidewalks rammed with souvenir tat and excursion booking agencies. If you aren't one of the viejos taking a bus/boat tour, the choice is simple. Hielo y Aventura has a slamdunk monopoly all over the Perito Moreno Glaciar and getting on top of it is only possible through them. In fact there are no options to do anything in El Calafate unless you do it through an agency - One day even breathing will require a middle man.

 

There is 'Mini-Trekking' around 460 pesos or 'Big Ice' at 520. Along the lines of 'If you aren't living on the edge, you're taking up too much space', we went for more Big Ice. Desperate to get hands on axes again.

 

I don't like to begin my day at 7am sitting on a bus driving around hotels picking up 18 other tourists but once dropped on the terraces in front of Glacier Perito Moreno before the hoardes of viejos arrived, my mood improved. The Glaciar is one of the few things in life that is still truly gob-smacking.

It's fifteen minutes there, then 'Back on the Bus' to the port for a ten-minute boat ride across a branch of Lago Argentino and onto the edge of the Glaciar where you first meet Men With Axes. Are mountain Guides the new Air Hostesses - you  have to be cute to qualify? And are they paid extra to flirt so uncontrollably?

 

As we began our ascent across the Moraine, my heart was pounding and I was having trouble breathing and it had absolutely nothing to do with the climb.

 

As with Cerro Torre, a steep ascent through the tree line, a steep descent and you're on the ice. Harnessed up and crampons on. Although Big Ice is only recommended for people up to the age of 45, unlike Cerro Torre, I would really term this a pussy hike. The eighteen Americans on the tour were trawling all over the place like ADD kids off meds and the four Men With Axes were constantly hacking staircases into the side of the ice pinnacle and hauling them up by the harness. They straddle every crack and crevasse and hand/haul you across, often with some atorrante comment to cheer you on as you pass.

It is however fantastic. Only poets have words to describe it and I don't think Lord Byron made it down here.

 

Watching the Mountain Guides forge ahead to check for fissures made me wish one would open up and swallow these eighteen others - Certain of whom had flown into El Calafate for one day to 'do' Big Ice - and leave me alone with the creaking glaciar, the shifting light patterns and the most beautiful man in the world.

 

'Giddy'. my Companera del Crimenes called me. Indeed we both were. Stimulated by the earth's natural gifts and the immense range of emotion they are capable of gouging out of you.

 

I'm not quite sure how I feel about this mass tourism across the World's great places. It seems that although the Glaciar is huge and forever, we are systematically destroying her.

Fortunately on the return boat, the Men With Axes brng you back to earth with a couple of shots of whisky on the rocks. The purest rocks you will ever see.

Morose Monday - Emotional Unavailability Part 4999

The air in Buenos Aires is like inhaling leek soup and where are the Men with Axes who can trip up and down a vertical glaciar pinnacle on two spikes smoother than a milonguero slips a new turista into his embrace.

 

I don't think I can live any more surrounded by men in plastic hairbands and bagged shorts who think shopping at Nike is exercise. Men should be outside reading ice caves for collapse not reading texts and downloading ringtones.

And when it comes to dealing with emotional unavailability and heartbreak - I recommend a week or two in Patagonia in the company of men with axes while stretching body to its upper limits. The Mountain God pictured above asked me why do women always complain about Atorrantes (hmmm, let's say bullshitters but divertido) yet those are the men they always chase after. He also said that the women they like are also a little atorrante - free, funny, full of life. Ladies we need to relax.