Just to keep you all informed about what's going on with tangocherie:
Today, in broad daylight two blocks from my apartment in quiet, blue collar Boedo, I was walking to church on Estados Unidos, and a kid--a kid of 12 or 13--ran up behind me and grabbed my purse. I wasn't letting go, and he kicked me in the stomach to the ground and we struggled some more until the cheap plastic strap broke and he ran off down the street.
I was yelling and screaming, but only too late did neighbors come out of their houses.
Thank God I'm not more hurt, and my passport wasn't in the bag. But my camera that I had waited five years for, with undownloaded videos of Ruben's performance last Friday, was.
I was lucky, don't we always tell ourselves, that I wasn't badly hurt, that more wasn't lost. But I feel violated and so very frustrated and angry. And so helpless, and even more a stranger in a strange land.