A Buenos Aires burning with my brother

Where I'm coming from

Buenos Aires translates from Spanish to “Good Air” but a more accurate translation would be strong winds. I arrived the day after Christmas; I’m staying with my brother, Zach in the heart of the city. I walked into his two bedroom flat and instantly noticed a patched up hole in the middle of the bathroom door.

”Did he get angry and punch a hole?” I wondered.

It turns out, not nearly as dramatically, he was in the shower with the window open and the strong winds blew the door shut so intensely that the handle of the door fell off. Trapped, he screamed for help and in frustration for about ten minuets until deciding to to use his elbow to break through and get free.

People tell him to be careful in Argentina, but often he’s his own biggest predator.

La Plata on New Year’s Day

I’m here to hang with him until our parents arrive, shortly. I made it after 20+ hours of transit through New Zealand, Chile and finally Buenos Aires. It was not my best Christmas in Australia, prior. I have taken on an ambitious task of organizing two big events in February, and after two days of solid drinking while staying with friends it dawned on me on Christmas Eve that I had not even considered this three week, family trip in Latin America in the slightest, nor the many painful hours in the air ahead. Was I even ready to go? I had a teary outburst on Christmas night, bringing an abrupt pause to the festivities. No one knew what was wrong with me. A few hours later I sent off last week’s Substack with a glaring typo in the headline. I don’t think readers understood that the entry itself was a poetic perspective of Mrs. Claus. People instead wondered if I had had a fight with my boyfriend (Josh), and two unsubscribed. What a way to end the year.

I don’t regret the poem, but when Josh and his mate Dan kindly dropped me at the Sydney airport Boxing Day morning, I cried again. I tried to get comfortable on my middle seat in the back of a giant plane while rocketing through space and time to be with my family member on another continent, different to our home country where we were both raised. Modern existence is weird AF, drinking does us no favors and as free and fun-loving as I hope to come across in person and on social media, this ain’t always the case. Part of the reason I created my Substack was the desire to be better understood, but sadly no matter how eloquently one writes or expresses, nobody gets it all the time.

TheLittleBlueDood

After nearly a week here, my jet lag is subsiding. I have occasionally been sleeping through the night, and I have been entertained by the affordable and delicious Malbec, my brother’s visiting Colombian friends and the views, hearts and follows that come every time Zach mentions me in an Instagram story. He is a big deal in South America with millions of followers on various platforms. That doesn’t stop him from being my younger brother though.

It’s my second visit, and while I am again falling in love with this blustery city of European architecture, incredible wine, pastries, murals and gorgeous trees, he is still the main reason I’m here. Zach and I talk all the time. No topic is too taboo, although interestingly we have barely discussed at all Argentina’s new right wing president, Milei, bringing big change and disruption to the region.

We talk about other things, though. Zach has been having epiphanies, some of which I like more than others. He’s critical of modernity and technology including capitalism (fair) but also feminism (now we clash.) Despite being raised by a progressive, educated family, he is gravitating towards vocal beliefs that women are better off knowing less, being looked after, raising babies. I fear the “machismo” thinking, more popular in Latin America, has rubbed off on him.

”What have you accomplished, Alex?” He asks me when the topic comes up of my life and lack of kids.

”What have you accomplished?!” I shoot back. “A million followers on Instagram?”

Siblings tend to be honest with one another, and it’s one way to give you perspective, even when you disagree. I have never agreed with Zach on everything, but I like that he’s genuine, even when his thoughts infuriate me. Hearing his opinion helps me understand others with similar beliefs. It helps me push back and retaliate. But, like my Christmas meltdown, our discussion was a reminder that people, even those close to me, don’t always see things the same way I do.

We want people to understand where we’re coming from.

Last night, New Year’s Eve, Zach, his girlfriend, Costi, Pablo the Uber driver and I took an hour-long drive down a desolate highway with occasional moonlight peaking through the clouds. Our destination was La Plata, to watch the famous “burning of the dolls.” Here’s a little video I made about it.

I love this concept of burning down everything bad (including your own giant demons) and starting afresh. It’s primal, authentic and aesthetic. Twenty-twenty four is officially here, but I wouldn’t overthink it. (I definitely will; maybe I just did.) Anyway, enjoy a flaming rebirth and a clean slate, y’all!

Some dolls in La Plata before they burned.

As per usual, here are the things I’m learning/consuming this week.

- White Lotus, season 2: I binge watched almost all of this on the plane, and I adored it. I know it’s supposed to be a black comedy with deep criticisms of wealth and privilege, but it mostly just made me want to visit Sicily and get into mischief with beautiful, stupidly rich people.

- Barbie movie. Watched this as well on the plane. Meh. I wasn’t excited about it when it came out, and it didn’t really do it for me, although I unfairly dislike things more when everyone else seems to love them. But truly it seemed a cliché, try hard and didn’t resonate. I would have preferred an ending where all of the Barbies and Kens worked together cooperatively and strategically to bring down Mattel corporation.

- A NYT article about the Latin American history of the burning of the dolls.

- An HBR article titled “How to disagree with someone more powerful than you”

And that leads me to one of the two events I’m putting on in February.

Common Ground’s mission statement is: Worried by the heated and divisive state of public discussion today, we seek to build a conversational community to facilitate productive discussion and critical thinking about complex and controversial issues. People with different opinions and perspectives are welcome. Common Ground is a place to share and a space to listen. Come along, Feb 29th!

Also, I decided to go a bit wild and work with my friend Naomi Jones to put on the First Annual Carrington Folk Festival on February 17th next year. It’s going to be an absolute riot!