Our Block

Our building enters at 45 degrees onto the street corner and so upon stepping out of the marble lobby you are immediately out, thrust into the hubbub of taxis, people and dogs criss crossing the street. The taxis drive without their lights on and do not heed pedestrians, the people walk indescribably slow and talk side by side gesturing wildly like slow moving windmills, the dogs (all enormous: golden retrievers, labs, shepards, dobermans, and even jesus a great dane or two) come in packs of at least a dozen individually leashed to a dog walker who leads these beasts amazingly well, but cannot be expected to pick up the dog shit. Suffice it to say to walk out of our apartment directly into all of this comes with its fair share of energy and drama.

Despite us being a block away from Santa Fe which is a major thorough fare, our street is fairly quiet after one adjusts to the hazards mentioned before. And on our block we have all the conveniences of urban living. A kiosk on the opposite corner to us sits also at 45 degrees. Its the same guy everyday from early in the morning to about 1 o'clock at night. He must know everything, perched there in the catbird seat and everyone coming and going, like a doorman not satisfied to only watch but helps along 'whatever what may come' by selling you a beer as you pass. Yes, its where i get my beer and when i am finished with my liter of Quilmes. I bring the bottle down, give it to him and he reaches slowly into the frig to pull a fresh cold one out and hands it to me. A nod and 4 pesos ($1.25) later and i am on my way back upstairs. Occasionally in the lobby of our building sitting on the white leather lounge built into the corner two teenagers will be stuck together legs crossing at least twice, toes pointed in some intense pirouette, eyes staring intensely at one anther. Its funny that this space is probably the quietest that they know stuck between the clausterphobia of a small two bedroom apartment upstairs and the taxis, people, and dogs on the street.