El subte: the city beneath the city

It's not often that a subway system warrants it's own blog post, but this is an exception. I have found my share of terrors and treasures in this city beneath the city, and it's definitely necessary to share them here. Firstly, the cars themselves are works of art, both inside and out. As the trains speed into the stations, you see only a blur of bright colors...but when it slows, and then stops, you can see the immense murals of graffiti- a seemingly incomprehensible mess of perfectly arranged composition. And some of the train cars are very old (potentially originals) and it shows on the inside of the cars through the detailed woodwork/paneling, velvet seat covers, and little tea lamps hanging from the walls. Aside from the cars themselves, the people are also something to see. People from all walks of life use 'el subte', so it is prime people-watching...you see mothers with children, businessmen, young hipsters, tourists, hobos, and couples (of all ages) kissing and making out (this is actually the norm EVERYWHERE in Bs. As., and it gets kind of annoying.) But anyways, I think the diversity of the subway is best explained by two personal experiences; each story highlighting a very different aspect of this underground city. The first story happened today, when Nakita and I took 'el subte' to go shopping at the San Telmo market. We arrived at the station, disembarked, and began walking up the maze of stairs and hallways towards the exit. We stopped to look at a big poster advertising a human rights film festival, and Nakita pulled out her Blackberry phone to make a memo of the date/location. Suddenly a man came up behind us and grabbed her phone from her hand. He was definitely drunk or drugged up on something (we have since nick-named him 'Crazy Eyes') because his eyes were glazed over and all of his movements were slow/off-balance. After he grabbed the phone he started to run, and of course, being two feisty and rather naive girls- we started to chase him. We yelled and yelled, but the halls were suddenly, terribly, absolutely- deserted. Soon we caught up to him and I grabbed him by the collar and we began to struggle back and forth. I had him by the shoulders and pushed him against the wall, and he tried to push me off by grabbing my throat. After a few moments, he thew the phone down in frustration and took off. All that was left was a (luckily still working) phone with his smudgy fingerprints on it, and a small scratch on my neck. In hindsight it probably wasn't wise to chase and fight him, but in the moment you don't think about it...it's still such a blur. An experience like that really leaves you shaken, and feeling violated and vulnerable. We continued on to the market, but carried a feeling of uneasiness with us.
But not to worry, there are good things about the subway too. Today there was also a jazz festival in the subway- each station featured a different jazz band. We rode to one station and joined in a group of about 200 people singing and dancing to 'the best of Sinatra'. The music itself, as it echoed down the halls, was captivating. And the energy of the crowd- all drawn together by this music- created a powerful feeling of inclusiveness and community. I've also witnessed harp concerts, live theater, impromptu jam sessions, and strangers debating soccer (futbol) on subway rides. It's the idea space...of random people thrown together in a small car flying down the tracks...going together, leaving together...it's a very interesting opportunity for culture and conversation to grow...it's a meeting point and a crossing point...it's a buzzing beehive; a city under a city.