30 years ago today 10-year-old me was sitting in front of our 12-inch black-and-white TV watching the opening ceremonies of the 1980 Summer Olympics in Moscow. It’s safe to say that everyone else in the country was doing the same. Even though we had only 3 TV channels at that time and many shows enjoyed close to 100 percent rating, the Opening and Closing Ceremonies of the Moscow Olympics were probably some of the most watched events in the Soviet TV history. Unfortunately outside of the Socialist-friendly countries not too many people had a chance to see any of the 1980 Summer Olympics and it’s a shame because the USSR, anxious to show the triumph of the socialist system made them some of the most enjoyable and sincere ceremonies in the Olympic history. Since then many countries used complex scenarios and spectacular special effects but none has achieved the level of pure joy and emotional connection the Soviet people managed to build into their Olympiad.
Even today, so many years later, it’s one of the most nostalgic moments in the lives of my generation. Many people remember the games, beautiful opening ceremony and a tearful closing, a rare glimpse into Western life, with the first Soviet-made Pepsi, never-before-seen imported foods, crowds of foreigners, new construction in Moscow. Others talk about the measures the government took to round up and deport the homeless (and prostitutes) out of the city for the duration of the games, or how many parents received heavy-handed suggestions to send their kids to the out-of-town summer camps away from the “danger”. I didn’t know any of that at the time, and probably didn’t care being 10. All I remember is the summer, beach, friends, little cabin we rented near the sea, and a small TV. A happy place, long time ago, far away from here.
I’d like to start this part by busting the first and the most in need to be debunked myth about Argentina – the myth that states that people there speak English. In fact, hardly anyone or almost no one (whichever you prefer) in Argentina speaks English. I am sure that plenty of fine polyglots are roaming the streets of Buenos Aires, eager to strike a conversation with you in your favorite language, but for some reason they don’t make themselves obvious. Barring an accidental run-in with one of the elusive English speakers, you’ll need to learn Spanish or spend your vacation as a deaf-mute, using an elaborate sign language you just invented and a series of grunts and noises to explain what you want ( I went as far as handing a pen and a piece of paper to an orange juice vendor so he could scribble the price on it). It is also highly unlikely that you will understand anything being said to you. Cab drivers, restaurant employees, shopkeepers, people on the street, criminals – everyone you will need to communicate with – will stare at you trying but unable to understand your words and gestures. Even if you honed your Spanish talking to the janitor at work and ordering your favorite tacos at an authentic Mexican joint, chances are you will have a problem with the version of Spanish spoken in Buenos Aires; it’s a crazy mix of a dialect no longer used in Spain with Italian and every other language willing to contribute. To be fair, hotel employees, travel industry workers and personnel at the tourist-oriented venues will have some degree of English, but outside of these places you are on your own. I highly suggest ignoring what the guide books have to say on the subject and learning at least a bit of Spanish.
It’s hard to put a finger on what’s so different about Buenos Aires; even after almost two weeks there, I couldn’t stop taking pictures of the streets, buildings and everything around me.
It’s a city with the crazy mix of architecture, where it’s not unusual to see four or five styles of buildings on the same block;
Giving the Life Magazine a break, we continue onto the May 1914 issue of the Rotarian Magazine which was largely dedicated to Kansas City. Filled with photos and articles where mustachioed men took turns extolling the virtues of Kansas City, its businesses, theaters, schools, real estate and architecture. If you are bored at work a fan of Kansas City history, you should be reading this magazine already. 1914 was the year when the Kansas City Union Station was opened and the magazine dedicates the cover and several pages of photographs and essays to the “largest Union Station in the world”.
Sorry for two billboard posts in a row, but what can I do – they are putting them up faster than I can stop and take a picture.
A thought about making this one into a caption contest but I don’t think you can beat mine (see the title of this post). If you manage to do better than I did, I might come up with a prize – a beer or a magazine subscription – something. Good luck and remember to lock up your jewelry stash or someone will get paid to party!
Recently Shane wrote about his ride to work and how it makes him wish for the public transit system. I’ve been driving my everyday 20.5 miles (one way) for close to ten years now and while it’s not my favorite pastime I think a lot depends on the soundtrack you use for your drive. Since my hectic schedule and refusal to tolerate people other than me farting in my vehicle prevent me from sharing the ride, I grabbed my new camera so I can invite you for a few minutes of virtual carpooling on my morning drive to work. See for yourself how easy and fun it is.
(I placed the camera slightly lower than I should have, I will try better next time)
httpvh://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uwLV-smsXZ4
See Also: Adding the Benny Hill Theme to Anything Makes it Funny.
