In Buenos Aires, nights out start with pre-drinks or "previa" at 1am

Elizabeth Yentumi on nightlife in Argentina, which differs from the UK on more than just the time.

One of the most well known aspects of Buenos Aires is the buzzing nightlife scene. While I’ve never been a club-hopper, something which has always threatened to undermine my student status, I do enjoy the occasional night out and love to dance to anything with a beat. My debut into Buenos Aires clubbing was quite the experience.

Many similarities exist between the standard British night out and its Argentine counterpart. First of all there is the customary pre-drinks or ‘previa’ which serves not only as a fun social prelude to the evening but also provides slight economic relief in the face of increasing nightclub drinks prices. The main difference lay in the fact that the gathering I found myself at began at the horrifying time of 1 am. Three hours later I tried to explain to a group of spirited, stylish portenas (Buenos Aires natives) that by this time in the UK I would have spent a respectable four hours on the dance floor and would be contemplating my journey home and the leftovers I would gorge on before running into the open arms of my bed. This was received with incredulous stares, a few snorts and a ‘Che boluda! Ya no empezó la noche!’ meaning ‘Mate, the night has only just begun.’

It’s now 4.15am. I tried to hide my fatigue and restlessness to get to the boliche, nightclub, while the girls continued to ply me with Argentine mainstay Fernet, an amaro or bitter spirit. Type Fernet into Wikipedia to see a full list of the ingredients to get an idea of this strange, new herb-filled drink. I may like it now but my facial expression after that first sip bore an uncanny resemblance to the look I gave my Grandma after a spoonful of cod liver oil when I was 5 years old. The taste wasn’t far off either. Sadly I couldn’t hide my expression as quickly as I had hoped. We finally arrived at the nightclub by taxi at 4.45am (not that I was aware of this).

Other similarities between UK clubs and Argentine ones include long queues of scantily clad girls teetering on heels, higher entrance fees for men and drinks deals for guests who arrive before a certain time. The real difference, however, can be found on the dance floor. A rhythmic and lively genre of music called Cumbia is played in addition to the popular UK and US chart music we’re used to. Originally enjoyed in the 90s by lower classes and pinched from the Caribbean coast of Columbia about 50 years before, the songs are a fusion of West African beats, Spanish guitars and various Argentine folkloric influences like cuarteto. What this somewhat incomplete definition really means is that people can shake, shimmy and let loose a bit more than when dancing along to the faster, static beats of pop music.

Cumbia also encourages dancing in partners, which is not only good, quasi old-fashioned fun and a bit like a salsa class with tipsy students but also an ‘efficient’ way for a guy to initiate conversation with a girl. Imagine a Latin American Grease. On the practical side, if you don’t dance energetically it doesn’t look as though you aren’t enjoying yourself; just that you are ‘feeling’ the beat. The relaxed vibe allows Argentinians to party until long past dawn. And if staying out until 8am wasn’t enough, why don’t we add a spot of breakfast before we go home? Personally, I was proud of the 6.30am end to my night, although it was slightly undermined when my friends, who I realised were far from quitting the dance floor, made me promise I wouldn’t go home so ‘temprano’ again. A poor show from the British girl who claimed to have a passion for dancing. I made it until 6.55am the next time. I can’t quite hear your applause...

Some things don't change no matter where you are in the world. Photograph: Getty Images.
Getty
Show Hide image

Leader: Trump and an age of disorder

Mr Trump’s disregard for domestic and international norms represents an unprecedented challenge to established institutions.

The US presidency has not always been held by men of distinction and honour, but Donald Trump is by some distance its least qualified occupant. The leader of the world’s sole superpower has no record of political or military service and is ignorant of foreign affairs. Throughout his campaign, he repeatedly showed himself to be a racist, a misogynist, a braggart and a narcissist.

The naive hope that Mr Trump’s victory would herald a great moderation was dispelled by his conduct during the transition. He compared his country’s intelligence services to those of Nazi Germany and repeatedly denied Russian interference in the election. He derided Nato as “obsolete” and predicted the demise of the European Union. He reaffirmed his commitment to dismantling Obamacare and to overturning Roe v Wade. He doled out jobs to white nationalists, protectionists and family members. He denounced US citizens for demonstrating against him. Asked whether he regretted any part of his vulgar campaign, he replied: “No, I won.”

Of all his predilections, Mr Trump’s affection for Vladimir Putin is perhaps the most troubling. When the 2012 Republican presidential nominee, Mitt Romney, warned that Russia was the “number one geopolitical foe” of the US, he was mocked by Barack Obama. Yet his remark proved prescient. Rather than regarding Mr Putin as a foe, however, Mr Trump fetes him as a friend. The Russian president aims to use the US president’s goodwill to secure the removal of American sanctions, recognition of Russia’s annexation of Crimea and respect for the murderous reign of the Syrian president, Bashar al-Assad. He has a worryingly high chance of success.

Whether or not Mr Trump has personal motives for his fealty (as a lurid security dossier alleges), he and Mr Putin share a political outlook. Both men desire a world in which “strongmen” are free to abuse their citizens’ human rights without fear of external rebuke. Mr Trump’s refusal to commit to Nato’s principle of collective defence provides Mr Putin with every incentive to pursue his expansionist desires. The historic achievement of peace and stability in eastern Europe is in danger.

As he seeks reconciliation with Russia, Mr Trump is simultaneously pursuing conflict with China. He broke with precedent by speaking on the telephone with the Taiwanese president, Tsai Ing-wen, and used Twitter to berate the Chinese government. Rex Tillerson, Mr Trump’s secretary of state nominee, has threatened an American blockade of the South China Sea islands.

Mr Trump’s disregard for domestic and international norms represents an unprecedented challenge to established institutions. The US constitution, with its separation of powers, was designed to restrain autocrats such as the new president. Yet, in addition to the White House, the Republicans also control Congress and two-thirds of governorships and state houses. Mr Trump’s first Supreme Court appointment will ensure a conservative judicial majority. The decline of established print titles and the growth of “fake news” weaken another source of accountability.

In these circumstances, there is a heightened responsibility on the US’s allies to challenge, rather than to indulge, Mr Trump. Angela Merkel’s warning that co-operation was conditional on his respect for liberal and democratic values was a model of the former. Michael Gove’s obsequious interview with Mr Trump was a dismal example of the latter.

Theresa May has rightly rebuked the president for his treatment of women and has toughened Britain’s stance against Russian revanchism. Yet, although the UK must maintain working relations with the US, she should not allow the prospect of a future trade deal to skew her attitude towards Mr Trump. Any agreement is years away and the president’s protectionist proclivities could yet thwart British hopes of a beneficial outcome.

The diplomatic and political conventions embodied by the “special relationship” have endured for more than seven decades. However, Mr Trump’s election may necessitate their demise. It was the belief that the UK must stand “shoulder to shoulder” with the US that led Tony Blair into the ruinous Iraq War. In this new age of disorder, Western leaders must avoid being willing accomplices to Mr Trump’s agenda. Intense scepticism, rather than sycophancy, should define their response.

This article first appeared in the 19 January 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The Trump era