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apexart-journal · 8 years ago

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Mimi Lipson in Montevideo, Day 13

Thursday was a free day, though I did have an engagement with some plumbers the airb’n’b landlady sent over to address the sewer gas smell that occasionally troubles me here in the apartment. I figured it was probably futile, since clearly the problem is that this is a cheaply constructed new building, but they pulled some kind of clog out and declared victory. Sewer gas still present, but I can live with it.

Friday morning I met Javier’s parents, Selva and Daniel. I was sent to their restaurant, Via Veccia, which is in Ciudad Vieja, to learn how to make pasta. So I helped Selva make ham and cheese ravioli, and we chatted about cooking, pasta makers, and the effect of climate on dough.

Did you know, by the way, that the name for a round ravioli is a sorrentino? I wonder if Gilbert Sorrentino liked sorrentinos. See how yellow they are? That’s because the eggs you get here are healthy and rich, with bright orange yolks.

Selva’s father was Spanish and her mother was Italian. She loves both Spanish and Italian cuisine, and she would like to try Cajun food sometime. She thinks it would be best to go to Louisiana, though—not to try to recreate it here. Also, she is a painter, and she described some of the Uruguayan painters I hope to learn more about, including Joaquín Torres-García, who—Selva says—painted in a style that resembled Mondrian but with an Uruguayan palette of blacks, greys, ochre, brick, and dark blue.

I helped Daniel prepare the dining room for lunch, then stuffed myself on sorrentinos and a delicious apple upside-down cake.

I cleared out before the rush started, because I remember how that was when I was a waitress. It was swell meeting Javier’s parents.

I had a little time before my therapy session, so I chilled in this Montevideo version of a Johnny Rockets, complete with anachronistic jukebox and Beach Boys soundtrack. The breakfast cereal garnish was a nice touch. Very American.

There was some funny business with the transportation app getting to Proyecto Gurisaes on the bus, but I did get there. It continues to be a little awkward hanging out there without, really, a role, but I enjoy listening to the conversations and seeing how much I can understand. And once again, everyone kissed me hello, which was nice. The kids clearly think I’m goofy anyhow, so they are a good audience for my hopeless attempts at Spanish, and since I was able to stay a half hour later this time, I got a chance to try to help one of the girls with her English homework. She was supposed to write what her name was, her age, her birthday, a description of her appearance, etc. I could tell that to her it was as exciting as solving for some irrelevant x, but still I was sorry to have to dash off before we got very far.

Oh here’s some crazy Rodchenko-looking religious kid art.

By the time I left for my next engagement—meeting Valentina’s stepmother Lucia for a play in Centro—I had been out on the town for 11 hours already. I had some trouble with the bus not coming last time I was there, so I gave myself an entire hour for the 25-minute trip (according to the app). I stubbornly waited for my bus for forty minutes while taxis cruised the bus stop, and finally I gave up and flagged one down. I had avoided them for 12 days, and it felt like a defeat. I told him the address the best way I could: “Avenida Dieciocho de Julio, numero NUEVO TRES CERO. Esta es medio Rio Blanco y Convencion.” I think that was close enough, but he headed off in the wrong direction, and then was visibly annoyed when I told him, “a Centro.” Then he tried to leave me at a random intersection, and I had to show him the address on paper, and THEN he drove me there, so—you know—he ripped me off, which is why I have avoided taxis so far.

It was nice to see Lucia again. I feel like I have a little social network here. We are both struggling to communicate—me a little more then her—but it’s good, because that forces me to try a little more Spanish here and there. The play was pretty fun, though of course I didn’t understand much of it. It was a “zarzuela”, which is (according to my information from Javier) “a Spanish lyric-dramatic genre that alternates between spoken and sung scenes, the latter incorporating operatic and popular song as well as dance.” Basically, it was a musical with opera singing. There was a little orchestra on the corner of the stage. The play was called “La del Manojo de Rosas,” and it was “una historia de amor con la gracia y la sal de Madrid.” There was a happy ending, where la sal and la gracia got together, of course. I loved the dancing and the music, which was very Spanish, with castanet-type percussion and, as Lucia informed me, a Paso Doble.

Lucia and I took the bus back to Pocitos. I got off a stop before her, and she waved goodnight through the window. It was after 11. Boy was I exhausted, but I also wanted a glass of wine, so I stopped in at Café 62 on Miguel Barreiro, my street. I went in there once last week, and they recognized me, which was swell. I chatted with the grill man in dumdum Spanglish, and then it was midnight, so maybe stopping in wasn’t a good choice, but dammit, you gotta make an occasional appearance at the local.

I want to be a good sport, but all these late nights are killing me. I slept in a bit, but I had to be ready to meet Gabriela Prebetoni in the morning. Gabriela is friend of Valentina’s. She took me to Villa Biarritz, a flea market in Punta Carretas (a nearby neighborhood, where Parque Rodo is, and the therapist, and a lot of other points of interest), which I heard was a flea market that specialized in clothes. That sounded promising. Some of my best statement pieces have come from European flea markets. But it turns out Villa Biarritz is really for new stuff. It’s a place to find bargains on the things they sell in Centro or at the mall—along with items you’d see at a swap meet in the States, like dream catchers and fake flowers.

So it wasn’t really a place for me to shop, but I can see that it’s a great resource for people who want to stretch a peso. Gabriela looked at charm bracelets and eventually settled on a slim chain with one charm. Very pretty, I thought.

There were a few used book tables. Gabriela bought a Spanish edition of Dubliners on my recommendation. I hope she likes it.

I might have bought one of these for yuks, but they were actually quite expensive—like, 750 pesos, or around $25.

I did get some produce and cheese to bring back to the apartment, though.

Sorry, I know this entry is a little boring.

Next engagement involved a 45-minute bus ride. I like long bus rides, so I can just space out and look at stuff and not worry about missing my stop.

I got off in the fancy-looking Prado neighborhood, where I visited the Museo de Bellas Artes Juan Manuel Blanes. It is housed in a glamorous old palazzo surrounded by a tranquil park. The city bought it in the 1920s.

They have a small permanent collection of Uruguayan painters, and today there was a multimedia exhibit by Eloisa Yberra, a contemporary artist.

Look at this arm (by Blanes).

A lot of the paintings were on themes of cattle.

I liked these rock paintings, hung salon style.

There’s a lovely Japanese garden behind the museum.

I very much enjoyed this outing. It felt kind of mitteleuropean or something, or like what I would have done with my father in some dolorous Eastern European town: taking a long bus ride to the quiet outskirts, strolling the grounds contemplatively with the weekending families.

In a few hours, it’s chivitos with Sofia Romano. Chivitos are, like, the Montevidean cheese steak. More later. Ciao.

#Mimi Lipson #Outbound to Montevideo

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