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Buenos Aires has trained me well. The vendors in Peru and Bolivia would, at times receive eye contact and perhaps a harsh "no gracias" when accosting me with postcards, gourds, jewelry and a plethora of llama related trinkets. The small girls in Salta, placing on our dinner table, packs of socks for sale would at least receive a weak smile, but here, in Buenos Aires, the importance of a military like discipline, walking in a straight line, not flinching even if the man next to you is hit by a bus, has been beaten into me.

It mostly has to do with Argentinean men's constant need to assert their masculinity, letting you know that they are in fact attracted to women. I had witnessed this a bit in Mendoza: the occasional car horn, incoherent yell out a window, whistles, and my personal favorite... an odd kissing noise which all these men seemed to have honed to an art form. These advances I found mildly entertaining if not a bit annoying, but the men of Buenos Aires have taken it up a notch.

I love Buenos Aires, it is a gorgeous city, beautiful architecture, wonderful food, and wickedly fun night life, but I have yet to walk down the street without at least one whistle, click, or kissing noise. It seems the men here find it very, very necessary to let it be known that they are attracted to women. Its not just the young guys and construction workers either... creepy 65+ year olds.... business men... I had a 14 year old make kissing noises at me (my first reaction was to tell him he was a bit young for me, but due to a combination of a lack of Spanish and overwhelming urge to run I instead chose to ignore him.)

I have been intentionally run into, my personal space has been invaded multiple times, groups of men have made me uncomfortable enough to cross the street. But the move that creeps me out the most (I've lost track of how many times this has happened to me) is when a man, usually over 40, walking towards me actually stops, partially in my path, and proceeds to wordlessly stare at me, sometimes with the added bonus of blatantly giving my an exaggerated stare up and down.

I have come to the conclusion this has nothing to do with how good you look... granted, if you are wearing 6inch, thigh high spiked heals, chances are you will probably garner a bit more attention/actually be physically assaulted. Not to say I don't feel safe (ok, so there were a few times I didn't, but this always happens in broad daylight on busy streets.) It seems that as long as you are female, it does not matter how you look. I received most of my cat calls after having spent the 20 hours the previous night on a bus, unshowered, makeup free, slightly dirty (probably not smelling to great either) and dressed pretty conservatively in jeans and a tank-top. I am beginning to get pissed.

I've even had men on the street click, whistle and say things to me when I was walking with another guy (but this does generally discourage them a bit) Of course what should I expect from a city who proudest symbol is a giant obelisk.

Luckily, I don't speak Spanish. Otherwise I'm sure I'd be offended by whatever phrases and paragraphs these men keep spewing at me. So these homophobic, machismo, testosterone soaked men have trained me well, I'm like a scared puppy, trusting no one and consciously making an effort not to flinch, actively avoiding eye contact and reacting to nothing for fear that the heckling will only get worse... god help the man who is just trying to ask me what time it is.

Except for the constant effort of not drowning in a sea of testosterone, I am in love with Buenos Aires. Somehow the food, ice cream, architecture, and nightlife make up for the constant catcalls. This is by far one of my favorite cities.

Learn more about this author, A.R. Sheppard.
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