Argentinian men

Immediately after the mugging accident I had an opportunity to familiarise myself with the ways of Argentinian men. Let me tell you this: they suck. I thought they were very European when it came to men-women relationships but I couldn’t be further from the truth. For the first time since the beggining of my trip in Latin America I felt harrassed. I didn’t expect it in Argentina, a country boasting such style and culture. I went to quite a few countires (incl. Brazil) before I came to Argentina, and there was a lot of whistling, honking, and complementing but I never felt my personal space being invaded. Even in Brazil which is one of the most sexually liberated countries in the world, if not the most, men were respectful in their own way. I never felt harrassed and they came with rather creative flirting techniques. Argentinian men on the other hand couldn’t be more blunt. Everytime I walked on the street and a man walked towards me, he would get real close and whisper something in my ear, as we walked by. I was disgusted. You can talk, honk and whistle all you want but do not invade my personal space. To give you an example of how far this porqueria goes I will tell you what happened after the mugging incident starring the very people you shouldn’t be afraid of: the policemen.

After the about 30mins the fuss of the incident had died down and a couple of police officers drove me back to the tourist area and assured me it was safe to take photos there. I was done exploring the ‘real’ city.
– We will escort you back to the tourist area because you are pretty – said one of the policemen taking me back to safety and giggled. Was that supposed to relax me and take my mind off things?! It failed. I wondered whether I wouldn’t be better off walking on the streets. I am pretty sure they didn’t teach that in the police academy. Or maybe they do in some twisted Argentinian version. Afterll they are just men behind the uniform.

Although the above example is probably the most extreme of all, the story doesn’t end here. When I got back to the cobbled stone streets and cheerfully painted houses I was mostly fine. I didn’t realise I was disturbed by the incident until a guy approached me. he didn’t have anything in his hands and I thought he might be another thief. I looked him up and down with the most unwelcoming expression on my face. He was bragging about something, switching between English and Spanish, while I clenched to my bag and gave him untrusting nods. It turned out he was a restaurant owner trying to lure me in. And I just wanted him to leave me alone. The double meaning remarks had no end. He was very unpleasant and sexual in a sleazy way.

Later that day as I was wandering the safe streets of La Boca I had a lot more touts pestering me. I really don’t know which part of ‘ No, I am not hungry.’ they didn’t get. One of them thought I was Brazilian and asked if he could touch my butt.
– ¿De donde eres? (Where are you from?) – he asked. I didn’t respond, kept walking. he switched to English.
– Are you Brazilian? – he shouted. I didn’t respond. Yeah, you are brazilian! Can I touch your butt? – he continued. I walked away. ‘No, I am not Brazilian, and NO! you can not touch my butt!’ I thought. But hey! who am I to ruin his fantasy.

So there you have it. Next time an Argentinian arrogantly brags about their European descend I will remind them of the sleazy ways of their men.

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