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NIMBY-free: What our cities can learn from this South American capital
NIMBY-free: What our cities can learn from this South American capital

Sydney Morning Herald

time23 minutes ago

  • Entertainment
  • Sydney Morning Herald

NIMBY-free: What our cities can learn from this South American capital

You often see Argentinians reading books at solo tables in coffee shops; Aussies, it seems, are mostly on their phones. And those coffee shops, by custom, mostly stay open all the way till 8pm, making the 3pm closing times common even in big cities like Sydney and Melbourne look ridiculously sleepy. Argentinians will pack them out between 6pm and 8pm for meriendas – a croissant, cake, empanada or scrambled egg snack, along with a café con leche, to tide them over till dinner time – commonly between 10pm and 11pm. They also do coffee shops really well. Whilst our coffee will often taste better, they nail the cafe culture. Buenos Aires has two major LGBTQI cafes – Pride and Maricafe – so the queer community can socialise in spaces not fuelled by alcohol. Both stay open late. No Australian city I know has this. Being more relaxed about late-night culture is one of the lessons I can share from our southern hemisphere counterpart when I return – happily – to Australia later this year. I've missed Australia sorely. Recently, on a day when the 'feels like' temperature hit an unbearable 44 degrees and my aircon conked out from a power surge, the inner-city's only major public pool – Parque Norte – a sprawling shallow paddling pool, had already closed for the season. It's, bewilderingly, only open for three months a year. It faces a Holy Land theme park, Tierra Santa, so a giant animatronic Jesus rises from the dead every hour, slowly spins around to judge us all in our skimpy swimmers, then descends back into his tomb. Quirky as this is, I long for the secular lap-pools of big Aussie cities like Sydney, where I lived. Glaring into the murky brown, unsuitable-for-swimming Rio de la Plata River, I also long for its beaches. There are many reasons not to take lessons from the Argentinians on certain subjects – economic management being one. While we panic if our inflation hits 4 per cent, Argentina last year had the world's highest, triple digit, inflation. The price of many things has doubled or tripled since I lived here – one of the reasons I'll soon leave. It has become expensive. It's still worth the money for a visit though, and Australians can fly there via a stopover in Santiago de Chile. When people ask why I chose here, I semi-joke it was the words to the song Buenos Aires in the film Evita as sung by Madonna: 'Fill me up with your heat, with your dirt, with your noise, overdo me. Let me dance to your beat, make it loud, let it hurt, run it through me.' Semi-joking because the lyrics ring true – the city is hot, noisy, dirty (Buenos Aires translates as 'good air' which is ironic) – and teeming with life and energy in a way Australia's cities just aren't. Much of that life happens at night. This is a truly nocturnal city. As one of my fellow digital nomads commented: 'not much happens before midday.' But everything good happens after midnight. Kids here are often still awake here at 1am on a Tuesday – I see them in the city's ice cream parlours. Somewhere you won't find kids is on the city's wildly hedonistic nightlife scene. No clubs open before midnight, and nobody even thinks about entering one before 2am. At 7am, they'll ask ' donde estan las afters?' Hardcore revellers will stay at one of the various afterparties on offer until midday; something that only happens sporadically in more conservative Australian cities. Argentinians, for reasons unbeknown to me, adore hard, thumping, lyric-free (and melody-free) techno music. I despise it, but I adore watching them go off to it. It makes me feel very alive. And also gives me a migraine. It's a world away from belting John Farnham at karaoke at 10pm before calling it a night. Oftentimes I feel like I was in Berlin's notorious Beghain. Other times I dance merengue-style to my much-preferred reggaeton or cumbria, which has more of a tune to enliven the hips. Everything is so insanely late, I adjust my schedule accordingly. In Australia I'd be up by 6am and in the gym by 6.20am. In Buenos Aires, some gyms and coffee shops don't open until 9am; shops at 10am. I moved from the world's most diurnal city to its most night-loving. They're refreshingly creative when it comes to nightclubs. One – La Biblioteca – is set in an actual library. One night I attended, FuriaFest, which opened at 1am in a large warehouse with fairground rides (the waltzers; a bucking bronco), an inflatable bungee football pitch (I played two games at about 3am), and a tattoo artist (nearly got one after three drinks) – plus a DJ and huge, busy dancefloor. It feels like Australia's notoriously restrictive regulations would kill off such a reimagining of the nightclub experience before it got off the ground. Another night, Durx, has a brickwork tunnel that runs underneath the length of the club where revellers, gay and straight, can be as sexually liberated as they feel, with no bouncers monitoring, judging or expelling, as happens in Australia. Similarly, the city's underground train system, the Subte, is free of the Australian-esque regulations that'd prevent the busking you see on trains here. It's like an underground, underworld live theatre; the modern day unsanitised circus. I've seen breakdancers, religious preachers, full bands, electric guitar soloists, elderly tango music singers, stationery sellers and a rap duo who'd invite you to suggest a word which they'd immediately incorporate into their imaginative, improvised fast-paced Spanish verse. The shabby-chic faded grandeur of a city that was, over a century ago, the capital of one of the world's richest countries owns its imperfections. It will, indeed, fill you up with its noise: the endless drilling; the defiant protests between the Plaza De Mayo and Congreso (as I write this, locals are bashing pots and pans together on balconies above me to protest alleged police brutality); the 10-lane mega-roads interrupting otherwise pleasant parkland.

NIMBY-free: What our cities can learn from this South American capital
NIMBY-free: What our cities can learn from this South American capital

The Age

time24 minutes ago

  • Entertainment
  • The Age

NIMBY-free: What our cities can learn from this South American capital

You often see Argentinians reading books at solo tables in coffee shops; Aussies, it seems, are mostly on their phones. And those coffee shops, by custom, mostly stay open all the way till 8pm, making the 3pm closing times common even in big cities like Sydney and Melbourne look ridiculously sleepy. Argentinians will pack them out between 6pm and 8pm for meriendas – a croissant, cake, empanada or scrambled egg snack, along with a café con leche, to tide them over till dinner time – commonly between 10pm and 11pm. They also do coffee shops really well. Whilst our coffee will often taste better, they nail the cafe culture. Buenos Aires has two major LGBTQI cafes – Pride and Maricafe – so the queer community can socialise in spaces not fuelled by alcohol. Both stay open late. No Australian city I know has this. Being more relaxed about late-night culture is one of the lessons I can share from our southern hemisphere counterpart when I return – happily – to Australia later this year. I've missed Australia sorely. Recently, on a day when the 'feels like' temperature hit an unbearable 44 degrees and my aircon conked out from a power surge, the inner-city's only major public pool – Parque Norte – a sprawling shallow paddling pool, had already closed for the season. It's, bewilderingly, only open for three months a year. It faces a Holy Land theme park, Tierra Santa, so a giant animatronic Jesus rises from the dead every hour, slowly spins around to judge us all in our skimpy swimmers, then descends back into his tomb. Quirky as this is, I long for the secular lap-pools of big Aussie cities like Sydney, where I lived. Glaring into the murky brown, unsuitable-for-swimming Rio de la Plata River, I also long for its beaches. There are many reasons not to take lessons from the Argentinians on certain subjects – economic management being one. While we panic if our inflation hits 4 per cent, Argentina last year had the world's highest, triple digit, inflation. The price of many things has doubled or tripled since I lived here – one of the reasons I'll soon leave. It has become expensive. It's still worth the money for a visit though, and Australians can fly there via a stopover in Santiago de Chile. When people ask why I chose here, I semi-joke it was the words to the song Buenos Aires in the film Evita as sung by Madonna: 'Fill me up with your heat, with your dirt, with your noise, overdo me. Let me dance to your beat, make it loud, let it hurt, run it through me.' Semi-joking because the lyrics ring true – the city is hot, noisy, dirty (Buenos Aires translates as 'good air' which is ironic) – and teeming with life and energy in a way Australia's cities just aren't. Much of that life happens at night. This is a truly nocturnal city. As one of my fellow digital nomads commented: 'not much happens before midday.' But everything good happens after midnight. Kids here are often still awake here at 1am on a Tuesday – I see them in the city's ice cream parlours. Somewhere you won't find kids is on the city's wildly hedonistic nightlife scene. No clubs open before midnight, and nobody even thinks about entering one before 2am. At 7am, they'll ask ' donde estan las afters?' Hardcore revellers will stay at one of the various afterparties on offer until midday; something that only happens sporadically in more conservative Australian cities. Argentinians, for reasons unbeknown to me, adore hard, thumping, lyric-free (and melody-free) techno music. I despise it, but I adore watching them go off to it. It makes me feel very alive. And also gives me a migraine. It's a world away from belting John Farnham at karaoke at 10pm before calling it a night. Oftentimes I feel like I was in Berlin's notorious Beghain. Other times I dance merengue-style to my much-preferred reggaeton or cumbria, which has more of a tune to enliven the hips. Everything is so insanely late, I adjust my schedule accordingly. In Australia I'd be up by 6am and in the gym by 6.20am. In Buenos Aires, some gyms and coffee shops don't open until 9am; shops at 10am. I moved from the world's most diurnal city to its most night-loving. They're refreshingly creative when it comes to nightclubs. One – La Biblioteca – is set in an actual library. One night I attended, FuriaFest, which opened at 1am in a large warehouse with fairground rides (the waltzers; a bucking bronco), an inflatable bungee football pitch (I played two games at about 3am), and a tattoo artist (nearly got one after three drinks) – plus a DJ and huge, busy dancefloor. It feels like Australia's notoriously restrictive regulations would kill off such a reimagining of the nightclub experience before it got off the ground. Another night, Durx, has a brickwork tunnel that runs underneath the length of the club where revellers, gay and straight, can be as sexually liberated as they feel, with no bouncers monitoring, judging or expelling, as happens in Australia. Similarly, the city's underground train system, the Subte, is free of the Australian-esque regulations that'd prevent the busking you see on trains here. It's like an underground, underworld live theatre; the modern day unsanitised circus. I've seen breakdancers, religious preachers, full bands, electric guitar soloists, elderly tango music singers, stationery sellers and a rap duo who'd invite you to suggest a word which they'd immediately incorporate into their imaginative, improvised fast-paced Spanish verse. The shabby-chic faded grandeur of a city that was, over a century ago, the capital of one of the world's richest countries owns its imperfections. It will, indeed, fill you up with its noise: the endless drilling; the defiant protests between the Plaza De Mayo and Congreso (as I write this, locals are bashing pots and pans together on balconies above me to protest alleged police brutality); the 10-lane mega-roads interrupting otherwise pleasant parkland.

Watch: 'Parisian carnival under the stars" Moulin Rouge at the Barras ahead of July night market
Watch: 'Parisian carnival under the stars" Moulin Rouge at the Barras ahead of July night market

Scotsman

time5 hours ago

  • Entertainment
  • Scotsman

Watch: 'Parisian carnival under the stars" Moulin Rouge at the Barras ahead of July night market

Glasgow's Barras is set to host a 'Parisian carnival under the stars' Moulin Rogue themed night market this month. Here's what to expect. Sign up to our daily newsletter – Regular news stories and round-ups from around Scotland direct to your inbox Sign up Thank you for signing up! Did you know with a Digital Subscription to The Scotsman, you can get unlimited access to the website including our premium content, as well as benefiting from fewer ads, loyalty rewards and much more. Learn More Sorry, there seem to be some issues. Please try again later. Submitting... Glasgow's famous Barras market will be transformed on Thursday 17 July for a Moulin Rogue themed night market. Kicking off the city's Pride weekend , visitors can expect can-can dancers, DJs, stalls, street food vendors. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad The Barras 'Parisian carnival under the stars' Moulin Rouge night market follows on from previous successful events like the hugely popular now annual Hong Kong market. Taking place on Thursday, July 17, the one off event will run from 5pm until 10pm and see the London Road market transformed as the official warm-up event before Glasgow's Pride takes over the market and Barrowland Ballroom on July 19. The organisers said: "Expect a night full of high kicks, music, and dazzling lights as we transform the Barras into a Parisian carnival under the stars. "Dressing up is highly encouraged! Think corsets, feathers, glitter, and Moulin Rouge glam!" Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad MC Puppet Paul and Can Can dancers, Amy Espie and Amber Dollin ahead of the Moulin Rouge event at the Barras Market. | John Devlin Fans can expect live can-can dancer performances, DJ sets, fabulous photo opps, carnival vibes and over 100 street food vendors and traders "bringing colour, culture, and community" throughout the entire market. They added: "This is your chance to strut your stuff, celebrate freely, and get into the Pride spirit with a night of fun and freedom."

How beach bonfires became a staple of St. John's Pride celebration
How beach bonfires became a staple of St. John's Pride celebration

CBC

time5 hours ago

  • General
  • CBC

How beach bonfires became a staple of St. John's Pride celebration

St. John's Pride festivities are in full swing across the city, but the annual beach party goes back decades, representing Newfoundland and Labrador's 2SLGBTQ+ history. The beach party will be held on Tuesday at Topsail Beach, but the event is more than a fun party. Beach bonfires started being held by members of the 2SLGBTQ+ community in the 1980s, said Susan Rose, who attended the early gatherings. Rose would go to the bonfires with other friends. She said they would see Pride celebrations in bigger cities like Toronto, and wanted to celebrate too. "So a group of us just got together and said, 'Let's go to Middle Cove Beach and have a bonfire,'" Rose told CBC Radio's Weekend AM. Rose said many people feared they could lose their job if people found out they were 2SLGBTQ+. While homosexuality was decriminalized in Canada in 1969, discrimination based on sexual orientation was outlawed in Newfoundland and Labrador in 1997. "I always remember being on alert until we were protected," said Rose. "I started teaching in 1985 and I had to be more careful then because I would have lost my job." The early bonfires were set up in secluded spots behind rocks, because it allowed the people to be somewhat hidden. Rose said they even had someone on watch. "I remember feeling, 'Wow, I'm in the closet on the beach.' And that really stuck with me.… That puts you on edge," she said. At one point, she said, a group of women held a bonfire alone, but found out the hard way that it wasn't safe. "Of course, we were a bunch of good looking young women and some of the guys there sort of wandered over," said Rose. Eventually, they started inviting gay men as well. "Some of us would be sitting there on the rock, with the fire, and holding hands … but you were always sitting … on a hot rock," said Rose. The beach bonfire became something members of the local 2SLGBTQ+ community began doing every year. Now it is a staple of the Pride celebration. While the event is usually held at Middle Cove Beach, St. John's Pride spokesperson Ellen Davis said this year it will be held on Topsail Beach because it's more accessible. "It's a wonderful celebration down there now and there's no need to worry, and everyone can hold hands and hug each other and not be harassed or targeted," said Rose. And in the event of a fire ban, like the one currently in place provincewide, Davis said an announcement will be made on social media about possibly postponing.

Wakefield Pride festival cancelled amid funding shortfall
Wakefield Pride festival cancelled amid funding shortfall

BBC News

time9 hours ago

  • Entertainment
  • BBC News

Wakefield Pride festival cancelled amid funding shortfall

Wakefield's Pride event has been cancelled after organisers said they suffered a "catastrophic" loss of grants and Pride and the Good Times Festival, due to take place at Thornes Park on 2 and 3 August, have both been postponed until 2026. Both days were expected feature a different line-up of artists including Blazin' Squad and Toploader, according to Wakefield holders are being offered refunds or the chance to keep their ticket for next year's event, Wakefield Pride said. Organisers said in a statement they had had to take the "difficult decision" to postpone until next year, after funding they were relying on was pulled."Despite frantic and extensive efforts by the team we have been unable to secure additional financial backing to keep the event afloat," they added.A licensing application submitted to Wakefield Council last month said Wakefield Pride had partnered with the Good Times Festival this year, which was intended as a new event designed to act as a fundraiser to keep Sunday's Pride free to application also requested a change of venue for the event, which has been held in the city centre in previous years with a stage in Trinity Walk. Wakefield Pride said it had been working for over a year to deliver the weekend "with costings totalling over £265,000"."This has been entirely funded by our committee and partners."A catastrophic loss of grants and sponsorships in the 11th hour that were promised this year meant the support we have had in previous years has melted away and we cannot proceed."It added: "We thank you for your support and friendship, and we'd love your continued support in our future plans."The Wakefield Pride team has organised the event since 2005, having gained charitable status in spring charity aims to promote equality and diversity for the public benefit, in particular the elimination of discrimination on the grounds of sexual orientation and gender identity. Listen to highlights from West Yorkshire on BBC Sounds, catch up with the latest episode of Look North.

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