In front of the Obelisk, where it seems that the ground is about to melt in the heat, there is a man on a little stage dressed as Santa Claus – or Papá Noel as we call him here. He rings a bell and fakes a hearty laugh. The spectators of his show – his precarious livelihood – are the thousands of passers-by crossing the square over which the Obelisk towers, desperate to buy gifts for their loved ones – and a few beggars. Every once in a while he gets off the set – which is decorated with typical Northern yuletide characters – loosens his beard to wipe away perspiration, drinks a long glass of water, wishes that a Christmas miracle would make it snow, sighs, looks at the horizon one more time... It’s not going to snow. He adjusts his beard, picks up momentum and returns to his role.
In Argentina, the last days of the year are a rare temporal vortex. It is just when the summer holidays and the intense heat begin – and several symbols make it somewhat unreal.
