Intoxication

The Intoxication of Wine, by Clodion
Claude Michel , CC0, via Wikimedia Commons

The innocent time is also when women can be preyed on and exploited, lambs circled by wolves.  I suppose it is the instinct to protect the vulnerable that makes more experienced people warn of the dangers or console the mauled. But everyone's journey is their own. 

When I think back to how much I walked the streets, to or from or between milongas through the night in Buenos Aires, I balk.  The main drags were safest: Entre Rios, Corrientes, Rivadavia, Belgrano but not everywhere was on the main streets. The venue Gricel was on the other side of Avenida Jujuy.  I remember walking down La Rioja or one of its siblings and feeling this was a distinctly bad idea. I had a similar sense of danger one night on Humberto Primo walking from Milonga de los Consagrados, which I was told recently no longer exists.  There were one or two other streets when I had the sense that I should get out of there, soon.

I think it was Colin who told me that he had been chatting with a friend one afternoon in a park near Retiro train station. The place had been bustling with families during the day.  The afternoon lengthened into shadows.  They looked up to find the place deserted of all but a gang wielding knives.  They were robbed. The gangs would come in the evening from Villa 31, a nearby slum area, to ensnare the unwary.

When you are new or foreign, in a strange place you are easy prey.  But being in Buenos Aires was also intoxicating.  The chemicals that surge through us in exciting situations are also present in situations that are potentially risky or even dangerous. And it's easy to take advantage of intoxicated people.