[Abandoned poster display outside the wall of the Cemetery of Recoleta, Buenos Aires. The advertising is gone, but behind the wall, the city’s dead remain. Photo is mine]

My biggest fear in life is to be forgotten.

I cast my dreams aside to fulfill those of others.

~~Maria Eva Duarte de Peron (Evita)

Readers, you know me by now. And you’re wondering when I’m going to get around to writing about another famous cemetery. I shan’t keep you on the edge of your seat any longer.

London has High Gate, Paris has Pere Lachaise, New York has Greenwood, my hometown of Owego, NY, has Evergreen. These aren’t just places where the deceased are buried, indeed they are much more than that. Designed by landscape architects, they offer vistas, elaborate mausoleums, curious and heartbreaking epitaphs, trees, benches, rolling hills, and even ponds and fountains. I am drawn to these beautiful and hallowed grounds for many reasons. My Irish melancholy, my deeply suppressed poetic sensibility, my historical curiosity and my appreciation for how those who have gone on, chose to tell us who they were and what they’ve done in the brief tenure on earth. So, we’re here in Buenos Aires and I knew well before we boarded our flight at JFK where I was going to spend a sunny afternoon.

[Arial view of the cemetery. Photo credit: Shutterstock]

I would be found among the dead in Cementerio de la Recoleta on Avenue Junin. The Uber dropped us just a little too far from the front gate so I was already in a light sweat by the time we made the moderately long walk to the corner, down the block, back up, along a wall to the Entrance Gate. We gladly charged the $17,000 fee. (No need to panic. The $ is used for the Argentine peso. Oh, and the exchange rate is about $1,000 pesos to $1.00. So it cost us $17 USD.) Not too bad. But, I always assume these fees are earmarked for maintenance of the grounds. And that’s where I had a problem. More on that later. Let’s get back to visiting the not-so-forgotten deceased.

[A partial list of the notables buried here. I am not recognizing any except for a writer perhaps. And, except for the person, eleven down in the left column. Photo is mine]

The cemetery is twelve acres. It currently has over 6,400 tombs, etc. Each crypt I examined had several interments. So, you can do the math. Close to 10,000 individuals? Who knows? And does it matter?

Not really. I’m here to see the stone structures and study the funerary art. Here’s how I recorded my impressions after we passed through the gate:

There is a certain austerity to this place. The walkways, lanes, tiny alleys and broader streets are without litter. Benches abound but not enough are in the shade for this writer, who has a very low tolerance of sun and heat. Again, my Irish blood…it’s thick. The Paris cemetery, as well as Highgate in London, both have a lushness, secret grassy places between the stone houses, grass even. But not much here. Paving stones give way to granite and marble edifices, with little transition.

And no cats were to be seen. The cemetery is rumored to have a significant population of feral cats, but I spent hours walking about, and no little kitties. I asked a young woman at the exit gate about the no-cat thing. She gave me two answers. In her broken English she said they came and took many away. A moment later she said they don’t like people so they come out after closing hours. (In a cemetery like this, one finds it easy to speculate about what else comes out after the gates close.)

With my various aliments regarding my right foot, I didn’t get to investigate each and every corner of this awesome and fascinating place. I also did not have access to a thick guidebook and, not incidentally, virtually no grasp of Spanish, I can show you a number of mausoleums, making a brief comment about the style. I can not provide any history about the families or the silent residents.

So, enjoy a tour of this famous Buenos Aires burying ground:

[Probably my choice for the most interesting and artistic tomb. Photo is mine]

[The statuary here is some of the best. Photo is mine]

[A few mausoleums are simple and austere. Important enough to have a plot, not solvent enough to afford the spires. Photo is mine]

[Many tombs have no space for flowers. So many of the avenues look exactly like this one. Photo is mine]

[NOTE: FOR THOSE READERS WHO HAVE NO DESIRE TO SEE EXPOSED COFFINS, PLEASE SCROLL PAST. I am showing some here to illustrate my main objection to the manner of how many of the crypts are maintained and the use of the entrance fees. Part family responsibility and part that of the Cemetery Authority?]

[Creepy and just a little disrespectful of those who can not advocate for themselves. Photo is mine]

[Not a movie set. I just photographed a few of the broken glass views. Photo is mine]

The one that follows is likely the most egregious example of the vandalism I observed. My personal opinion to explain this sad state of one interior…I believe I saw the rank of General on the outside. Argentina went through almost a decade of state-sponsored terrorism 1974-83) in which several thousand citizens were “disappeared”. This tomb may, and I emphasize may, have been an active participant of the “Dirty War”.

This is only conjecture.

[I can not speak as to the why of this destruction. Nearly all cemeteries experience vandalism, but this…? Note: This is not a chapel. It’s a private crypt. Photo is mine]

And now we’ve come to the most visited tomb in the entire cemetery. That of the wife of Juan Peron. Eva Duarte Peron. Known to much of the world as Evita.

Born Maria Eva Duarte on May 7, 1919 in the rural village of Los Toldos in the Pampas. Her family lived in poverty. She moved to Buenos Aires in 1934 to pursue the life of an actor. Her beauty gained her success on Radio and early TV. The history of Argentina was changed in 1944 when she met Juan Peron at a charity event. They married the following year.

She was a very influential first lady. It would not be unfair to compare her to Jackie O. Because of her roots in poverty, Eva (given the affectionate nickname of Evita by her country’s people) she could relate to the lower social classes. She once said: “I can understand the problems of most woman because I know what they go through.”

If you, reader, are interested in the politics of Peronism, I suggest you find a book and take a deep dive. It’s a fascinating story.

Evita died of cancer on July 26, 1952 ( I was five) in the Unzue Palace in Buenos Aires. Photos of her in death can be found on the internet. If that’s of interest to you.

Here is where she is interred:

[The Duarte Family Crypt. Several plaques to Evita are seen on the right. Photo is mine]

[Detail of one her plaque. Photo is mine]

At the end of our visit, just beyond the exit gate, I saw it. The sign for Clark’s Steak’s.

“Mariam,” I said, “I need to sit over there and catch up on my journal and plan a blog post about Evita and this cemetery. I need an Aqua con gas.”

“Okay,” she said.

“You first,” I said.

“Thank you,” she said.

And we sat in the shade, in the breeze and coolness of the shade, under the red umbrellas (or were they green?), and we talked, I wrote, she read and Mariam prepared to call an Uber.

“An Uber?” I protested. “That’s way too expensive. Let’s hail a red & green. We have to save our money. Uber is too expensive.”

“It only cost $4.00 USD to get here,” she said.

“Call an Uber,” I said. “That’s the best way to get home.”