Independence Day

7.9.08 -- Today, July 9th, is Independence Day in Argentina, celebrating their independence from Spain in the early 1800s. After a morning of work, I walked to Independence Square where I had a sneaking suspicion Independence Day festivities would take place. When I arrived they were still setting up a huge stage ringed with food and drink sellers’ stalls.

I decided to proceed to Parque General San Martin, a gorgeous park that was created around the turn of the twentieth century. Remember that Mendoza is a desert, and if left to its own devices it would look like rural Nevada. However, the founding fathers planted gorgeous sycamore trees watered by an irrigation system that brings snowmelt from the Andes.

The park is immense, with forests and fields, and on Independence Day it was populated with families. The women chatted. The men grilled and played soccer. It was so much fun to see these large families enjoying each other’s company and using their public spaces.

After spending an hour or so at the park, I headed back to Independence Square. To my delight they were doing a sound check, and people were congregating in front of the stage. I took a seat next to a family with roughhousing young boys. The band appeared on stage some time later. Dressed in pale blue, these middle-aged musicians launched into an acoustic music style that sounded distinctly folk Spanish and had the crowd clapping within seconds.

By the second song people were in the aisles dancing. It was a folk dance that consisted of partners flicking handkerchiefs at or over the heads of the other while constantly moving in an elegant and smooth display. Everyone joined in with huge smiles on their faces. The music was intricate and raw at the same time, and everyone was inspired to sing along.

Traditional costumes were abundant, from puffy pants and flat hats on the men to flowy dresses and blouses on the women. The attire, like the music, had a definite Spanish feel to it, especially the all white uniforms that some of the young men were wearing.
After watching the first band I decided to check out the craft market that surrounded the square.

My first find was a craft beer seller! I chatted with him (in Spanish no less, I am improving!), and learned that he was a true beer lover who insists on no additives or chemicals. In other words, a homebrewer. What struck me was that all of his labels were hand cut and the beer caps were of a homebrew variety. Sadly, he needs to experiment a bit more – the beer was a bit more watery than I like.

But the man was incredibly happy and had passion for what he does. And isn’t that what really matters?