My apartment is on the fifth floor.
Sunday June 16, 2013
It is raining and it gets dark early. The temperature is 50°F. Winter is beginning. I am alone. It is my first day in Buenos Aires.
Providing a respite from isolation among the throngs, Amanda Rosenfeldt, my liaison from Dr. Di Maggio’s office greets me at the McDonald’s inside the airport. I have just passed through customs. We find each other almost immediately. She takes one of my suitcases, I brought two, and we head outside to meet the driver she hired. I don’t have the strength, I used to have, and my luggage is particularly heavy. The driver helps me and I appreciate it. Amanda and I climb into the back seat. I’m surprised that there is a driver. In my mind I had imagined that Amanda would be driving. However, as I think about it, I realize how much easier it is that she didn’t have to park. It’s wonderful to have a car just pull up and greet us at the curb.
We are both sitting in the backseat as we ride toward downtown Buenos Aries. I am anxious. Concerned about the surgery, worried being away from my kids during my divorce, I am out of element in general. I do not speak any Spanish. I ask her how long the drive will be, she tells me 40 minutes.
Yet, Amanda and I have a bond. It is immediate and obvious. It is a bond that people with our condition have. So I simply ask her, when did she know? She tells me a story about when she had just begun kindergarten. It was raining. So instead of going outside for recess, the teacher put out a box of costumes for all of the kids. Amanda found a ballerina costume. She put it on. The teacher did not tell her to take it off. No one teased her. From that moment on she hoped every day it would rain.
Today it is raining.
I ask her when she started telling everyone. I ask her about her broken marriage. I ask her about her surgery. I tell her I’m nervous.
She says, “Would it help if I told you everything is going to be all right?”
“Yes,” I say, “that is exactly what I want to hear.”
She says, “Everything will be all right.”
I have rented what seems to be a fairly luxurious apartment. It is at the intersection of Florida and St. Martin. It overlooks a park called The Plaza.
Amanda waits while I check in with Alberto. It turns out that Alberto is openly gay. Of course, I like that. Alberto tells me I will, “have no issues of this kind, in Buenos Aires” By that he means I should not worry about harassment. We tour the apartment, which is about 2000 ft.². And then we leave and Amanda takes me to two grocery stores. The first one is “Chinese”. This does not mean they sell Chinese food (although they do seem to have a little bit of an emphasis in that area) it means it’s owned by Chinese people. It means they do not take credit cards. Interestingly, it also means they sell fresh fruits and vegetables (not every grocery store does) which is what I want to eat as much of, as I can, before the surgery. The “Chinese” grocery store was two blocks away. There was a young male and a young female working in the store I would guess they were about 22 years old. I would not describe them as friendly. Nevertheless, the boy did come over to help me, grudgingly, weigh my produce. His actions were not discrimination against me or Amanda based on us being transgender. Amanda appears (and sounds) as nothing but female. Also, as I asked him a question, he lifted his head and straightened his back. His eyes got big and his mouth literally dropped open. I really need to work on my voice. He composed himself and continued to help me. Therefore, I interpreted his grudging approach as nothing more than a young man who simply was not in the mood to engage in customer service.
I have become less and less saddened by the jaw dropping, eye widening reactions like his. They used to put me in a bad mood. Interestingly, I have starting to be amused by it.
It is raining and it gets dark early. The temperature is 50°F. Winter is beginning. I am alone. It is my first day in Buenos Aires.
Providing a respite from isolation among the throngs, Amanda Rosenfeldt, my liaison from Dr. Di Maggio’s office greets me at the McDonald’s inside the airport. I have just passed through customs. We find each other almost immediately. She takes one of my suitcases, I brought two, and we head outside to meet the driver she hired. I don’t have the strength, I used to have, and my luggage is particularly heavy. The driver helps me and I appreciate it. Amanda and I climb into the back seat. I’m surprised that there is a driver. In my mind I had imagined that Amanda would be driving. However, as I think about it, I realize how much easier it is that she didn’t have to park. It’s wonderful to have a car just pull up and greet us at the curb.
We are both sitting in the backseat as we ride toward downtown Buenos Aries. I am anxious. Concerned about the surgery, worried being away from my kids during my divorce, I am out of element in general. I do not speak any Spanish. I ask her how long the drive will be, she tells me 40 minutes.
Yet, Amanda and I have a bond. It is immediate and obvious. It is a bond that people with our condition have. So I simply ask her, when did she know? She tells me a story about when she had just begun kindergarten. It was raining. So instead of going outside for recess, the teacher put out a box of costumes for all of the kids. Amanda found a ballerina costume. She put it on. The teacher did not tell her to take it off. No one teased her. From that moment on she hoped every day it would rain.
Today it is raining.
I ask her when she started telling everyone. I ask her about her broken marriage. I ask her about her surgery. I tell her I’m nervous.
She says, “Would it help if I told you everything is going to be all right?”
“Yes,” I say, “that is exactly what I want to hear.”
She says, “Everything will be all right.”
I have rented what seems to be a fairly luxurious apartment. It is at the intersection of Florida and St. Martin. It overlooks a park called The Plaza.
Amanda waits while I check in with Alberto. It turns out that Alberto is openly gay. Of course, I like that. Alberto tells me I will, “have no issues of this kind, in Buenos Aires” By that he means I should not worry about harassment. We tour the apartment, which is about 2000 ft.². And then we leave and Amanda takes me to two grocery stores. The first one is “Chinese”. This does not mean they sell Chinese food (although they do seem to have a little bit of an emphasis in that area) it means it’s owned by Chinese people. It means they do not take credit cards. Interestingly, it also means they sell fresh fruits and vegetables (not every grocery store does) which is what I want to eat as much of, as I can, before the surgery. The “Chinese” grocery store was two blocks away. There was a young male and a young female working in the store I would guess they were about 22 years old. I would not describe them as friendly. Nevertheless, the boy did come over to help me, grudgingly, weigh my produce. His actions were not discrimination against me or Amanda based on us being transgender. Amanda appears (and sounds) as nothing but female. Also, as I asked him a question, he lifted his head and straightened his back. His eyes got big and his mouth literally dropped open. I really need to work on my voice. He composed himself and continued to help me. Therefore, I interpreted his grudging approach as nothing more than a young man who simply was not in the mood to engage in customer service.
I have become less and less saddened by the jaw dropping, eye widening reactions like his. They used to put me in a bad mood. Interestingly, I have starting to be amused by it.
The airplane outfit
(Disclosure: photo taken
months ago at another event)
I came in on Delta flight 101, Sunday morning. Amanda tells me a lot of patients seem to come in on that flight, Delta 101. I flew out of Miami to Atlanta. I flew business class, this allowed me to use the Delta lounge in Atlanta. I think I enjoy using airline lounges a bit too much, they have such an air of class divide. Of course, I console myself, that’s not why I chose fly business class. (Which is so much of a class divide that they don't even hesitate calling attention to the fact. It is part of the marketing.) The flight from Atlanta to Buenos Aries is 10 hours. The flight leaves Atlanta at 9:17 PM and arrives at 8:30 AM, local time, in Buenos Aries. My reasons for choosing business class were entirely practical. I wanted to sleep lying down. That is what I tell myself.
I was wearing a pink Ralph Lauren cotton knit sweater. It has a deep V-neck that helps take attention away from my broader shoulders. It fits me well and gives me a little curve in the waist. I wear it pulled down over my Level 42, orange boot flared pants. The pants fit perfectly around the hips and waist. I had a tailor take in at the waist so there’s no binding underneath the thin, silver, Tory Burch belt I always wear with those pants. The pants fall just below my heel, nicely covering 5 inch, platform espadrilles.The boot flare of the pants creates a curve from the ankle to the knee. Then there is that curve at the waist. It is flattering and effective. I know I shouldn’t be wearing 5 inch platform espadrilles to the airport. But it is a critical part of the outfit that looks good on me. The outfit is dressy casual and helps me feel more confident. Also, I have gotten pretty good at walking in those espadrilles, they’re not as uncomfortable as they probably look to everyone else. Apparently, in addition to flying business class for purely practical reasons, that is also why I wear 5 inch espadrilles.
On the airplane people are generally indifferent to me. While I appreciate friendly interaction, indifference is also good. Many, many transgender people would be ecstatic with the indifference I usually receive.
Seven hours into the 10 hour flight, I wake up go to the bathroom. The plane is quiet, dark, and most everybody is sleeping. I take advantage of the shadows to stand in an alcove, near a vacant flight attendant's station. I sip some water before planning to go back and lay down again. As I stand there another passenger makes his way to the bathroom. It’s the gentleman who was sitting in front of me. Several hours ago, when I had gone to the bathroom before, our eyes had met as I was walking back to my seat. The lingering intensity of his stare led me to jump to the conclusion, as I often do, that he had figured out that I had lived most of my life as a male.
It turns out I was wrong. As I stood there in the alcove, he was quickly in and out of the bathroom. Rather than walk past me, he stopped. For the next half-hour, I learned why he cannot sleep on airplanes. I learned that he spends a great deal of time in South America. I learned that he sells Bunn coffee equipment. I learned that he did not want to tell me who is biggest customers were. (But he hinted, that they were coffee distributors who would buy his machines to give to their customers. Thus obligating the customers of those distributors to continue purchasing coffee.) I learned that coffee producing countries always export their best product. Because it’s more cost-effective to ship the most expensive products and sell the lowest quality coffee domestically. I learned that Venezuela is the toughest country in which to conduct business. I learned that Argentina is almost as difficult. He said when he got back to his seat he would give me his card.
Maybe it was the drone of the airplane engine camouflaging my voice or maybe it was the dim lights. However, I learned that despite that I talked with him for more than half an hour, he thought I was a woman. He asked me several times why I was going to Argentina. Several times I gave him very general responses. Finally, the last time he asked me, I decided to just tell him. Because, why not? What am I scared is going to happen? What’s he going to do? Punch me there on the airplane? Tease me? Sneer? What he did do was quickly excuse himself and went back to his seat. He also did not give me his card like he had promised. In the past, that would have made me sad.
This time, I was amused. I started to reflect on the chain of events. Since he doesn’t sleep, I think he saw me get up and go to the bathroom again. Then, I think he saw me standing there, in the shadows of the alcove, not going back to my seat. It was then, I think, he decided to come chat me up. Yes, amusing, that is what that was.
I was wearing a pink Ralph Lauren cotton knit sweater. It has a deep V-neck that helps take attention away from my broader shoulders. It fits me well and gives me a little curve in the waist. I wear it pulled down over my Level 42, orange boot flared pants. The pants fit perfectly around the hips and waist. I had a tailor take in at the waist so there’s no binding underneath the thin, silver, Tory Burch belt I always wear with those pants. The pants fall just below my heel, nicely covering 5 inch, platform espadrilles.The boot flare of the pants creates a curve from the ankle to the knee. Then there is that curve at the waist. It is flattering and effective. I know I shouldn’t be wearing 5 inch platform espadrilles to the airport. But it is a critical part of the outfit that looks good on me. The outfit is dressy casual and helps me feel more confident. Also, I have gotten pretty good at walking in those espadrilles, they’re not as uncomfortable as they probably look to everyone else. Apparently, in addition to flying business class for purely practical reasons, that is also why I wear 5 inch espadrilles.
On the airplane people are generally indifferent to me. While I appreciate friendly interaction, indifference is also good. Many, many transgender people would be ecstatic with the indifference I usually receive.
Seven hours into the 10 hour flight, I wake up go to the bathroom. The plane is quiet, dark, and most everybody is sleeping. I take advantage of the shadows to stand in an alcove, near a vacant flight attendant's station. I sip some water before planning to go back and lay down again. As I stand there another passenger makes his way to the bathroom. It’s the gentleman who was sitting in front of me. Several hours ago, when I had gone to the bathroom before, our eyes had met as I was walking back to my seat. The lingering intensity of his stare led me to jump to the conclusion, as I often do, that he had figured out that I had lived most of my life as a male.
It turns out I was wrong. As I stood there in the alcove, he was quickly in and out of the bathroom. Rather than walk past me, he stopped. For the next half-hour, I learned why he cannot sleep on airplanes. I learned that he spends a great deal of time in South America. I learned that he sells Bunn coffee equipment. I learned that he did not want to tell me who is biggest customers were. (But he hinted, that they were coffee distributors who would buy his machines to give to their customers. Thus obligating the customers of those distributors to continue purchasing coffee.) I learned that coffee producing countries always export their best product. Because it’s more cost-effective to ship the most expensive products and sell the lowest quality coffee domestically. I learned that Venezuela is the toughest country in which to conduct business. I learned that Argentina is almost as difficult. He said when he got back to his seat he would give me his card.
Maybe it was the drone of the airplane engine camouflaging my voice or maybe it was the dim lights. However, I learned that despite that I talked with him for more than half an hour, he thought I was a woman. He asked me several times why I was going to Argentina. Several times I gave him very general responses. Finally, the last time he asked me, I decided to just tell him. Because, why not? What am I scared is going to happen? What’s he going to do? Punch me there on the airplane? Tease me? Sneer? What he did do was quickly excuse himself and went back to his seat. He also did not give me his card like he had promised. In the past, that would have made me sad.
This time, I was amused. I started to reflect on the chain of events. Since he doesn’t sleep, I think he saw me get up and go to the bathroom again. Then, I think he saw me standing there, in the shadows of the alcove, not going back to my seat. It was then, I think, he decided to come chat me up. Yes, amusing, that is what that was.
Floralis Generica: Floralis "means belonging to the flora and therefore the flowers", and Genérica "from the concept of "gender"
From Wikipedia: Floralis Genérica is a sculpture made of steel and aluminum located in Plaza de las Naciones Unidas, Avenida Figueroa Alcorta, Buenos Aires, a gift to the city by the Argentine architect Eduardo Catalano. Catalano once said that the flower "is a synthesis of all the flowers and is both a hope that is reborn every day to open." It was created in 2002. The sculpture moves closing its petals in the evening and opening them in the morning, although this mechanism is currently disabled. The sculpture is located in the center of a park of four acres of wooded boundaries, surrounded by paths that get closer and provide different perspectives of the monument, and placed above a reflecting pool, which apart from fulfilling its aesthetic function, protects it. It represents a large flower made of stainless steel with aluminum skeleton and reinforced concrete, which looks at the sky, extending to it its six petals. Weighs eighteen tons and is 23 meters high.
From Wikipedia: Floralis Genérica is a sculpture made of steel and aluminum located in Plaza de las Naciones Unidas, Avenida Figueroa Alcorta, Buenos Aires, a gift to the city by the Argentine architect Eduardo Catalano. Catalano once said that the flower "is a synthesis of all the flowers and is both a hope that is reborn every day to open." It was created in 2002. The sculpture moves closing its petals in the evening and opening them in the morning, although this mechanism is currently disabled. The sculpture is located in the center of a park of four acres of wooded boundaries, surrounded by paths that get closer and provide different perspectives of the monument, and placed above a reflecting pool, which apart from fulfilling its aesthetic function, protects it. It represents a large flower made of stainless steel with aluminum skeleton and reinforced concrete, which looks at the sky, extending to it its six petals. Weighs eighteen tons and is 23 meters high.
One of the characteristics of the flower is an electrical system that automatically opens and closes the petals depending on the time of the day. At night the flower closes, emanating a red glow from inside, and reopens ("...is reborn...") the following morning. This mechanism also closes the flower if strong winds blow.
It opens every morning at 8 and closes at sunset, on a schedule that changes according to season. When its petals were inaugurated, they didn't close due to technical problems which were solved two months later. There are four special nights in which the petals are open: May 25, September 21, December 24 and December 31.
According to Eduardo Catalano, the author, Floralis "means belonging to the flora and therefore the flowers", and Genérica "from the concept of "gender" and indicates that it represents all the flowers in the world".
The electronics employed in opening and closing the flower were disabled in 2010 to prevent damaging the sculpture, so it remains permanently open. This is due to the fact that one of the petals was incorrectly installed during its assembly, as noted by Catalano himself. The company responsible for its construction, Lockheed Martin Aircraft Argentina, provided a 25-year warranty, but as the company was nationalized in 2009 its repair is uncertain.
Measurements
It opens every morning at 8 and closes at sunset, on a schedule that changes according to season. When its petals were inaugurated, they didn't close due to technical problems which were solved two months later. There are four special nights in which the petals are open: May 25, September 21, December 24 and December 31.
According to Eduardo Catalano, the author, Floralis "means belonging to the flora and therefore the flowers", and Genérica "from the concept of "gender" and indicates that it represents all the flowers in the world".
The electronics employed in opening and closing the flower were disabled in 2010 to prevent damaging the sculpture, so it remains permanently open. This is due to the fact that one of the petals was incorrectly installed during its assembly, as noted by Catalano himself. The company responsible for its construction, Lockheed Martin Aircraft Argentina, provided a 25-year warranty, but as the company was nationalized in 2009 its repair is uncertain.
Measurements
- 23 meters high
- Diameter: Petals closed: 26 meters - Petals open: 32 meters
- Diameter of the reflecting pool: 44 meters
Me, my old forehead, and the gender flower.
Buenos Aires is a big city
A busy city
A gritty city
These guys were harassing me, as we walked toward each other, on the sidewalk. I don’t think it was at all transgender related. I just think it was in their nature that evening. I gave them a wide berth, by walking into the street. Then, I don’t know what I was thinking, I spun around and snapped their photo. As you might guess, this did not make them any calmer. The closer guy, looking back at me, (and yelling back at me) immediately started sprinting towards me. I had my running shoes on, thank goodness. I didn’t look back for two blocks. (warning: Images in this photo are actually closer than they appear!)
someday I am going to create a website featuring only statutes with penises covered by leaves.