¡EVITA! Except for a few passing moments while studying Latin American Politics in university, this name conjured up little more than a 90s musical starring Madonna that I had never seen and had no interest in doing so. For most extrañeros like me, “Evita” harkens little more than the instructions, “Don’t cry for me, Argentina,” in Alan Parker’s 1996 film. In Buenos Aires this is not the case.
After numerous conversations with local Porteños I encountered both the most impassioned disdain and quasi-religious adoration towards the actress turned first lady. For the people of Argentina, it’s impossible to maintain neutrality towards the woman the country once attempted to canonize. It has become a lasting legacy. When I asked a porteño friend to visit the museum dedicated to the life of history’s most renowned first-lady, the Museo Evita, she told me she would love to. She just couldn’t let her grandmother find out.
Socioeconomic class is an important determinant in one’s opinion of the woman. For families of great wealth and inheritance, the offspring of the colonial, landed elite – criollos, the social turmoil that surrounded the Peron years fostered great animosity. Threats to the Argentine social pyramid and their place at the top of it created a passionate opposition to the Peron administration by Argentina’s aristocracy. Systematic attempts were made to tarnish her image and portray her as a hypocritical, hedonistic, indulgent harlot. Despite their best efforts, this had little effect.
The life of Evita was a contradiction. Having grown up in the slums outside the Capital Federal, she lived her adult life enveloped by the glamour of the entertainment industry and the regality that life in the Casa Rosada affords. It is impossible to ignore the apparent hypocrisy inherent to her life; her deep empathy towards the “descamisados” – the shirtless ones – juxtaposed against a life of tailor-made, designer dresses, aristocratic galas, and Hollywood-like fame. When you visit the Museo Evita this fact becomes very striking. Over half of the museum is devoted to her wardrobe, filled with ornate jewelry and lavish dresses of lace.
The museum dedicated to her life is located in Palermo Alto and makes for a great afternoon destination. After a brief introduction to the iconic woman, which includes a compelling video collage of her speeches to the masses from the balcony of the Casa Rosada and footage of her shaking hands and commiserating with the countrymen and women who adored her, the museum is laid out chronologically. Before climbing the stairs to the second floor you are presented with artifacts of her poor childhood – household furniture, her mother’s sewing maching, even her original birth certificate (she had it changed in 1946 due to difficulties presented by the fact that her documented father had another family).
Continuing upstairs you meet the Evita that we all know. Starting with audio from her radio shows and original posters for her film and theater roles, the museum unfolds the developments that led a young woman with a poor background and big dreams of stardom to the fateful night on January 22, 1944, when while at a charity gala she met and left with the military-man and rising politician she would soon marry. The homage to her life then focuses on her life as the First Lady of Argentina and Head of the Ministry of Labor and Social Welfare and contains footage of her diplomatic tour of Europe and many dresses and accessories from her ornate, presidential wardrobe. Ladies, be prepared to gawk in awe.
The tour concludes with the final chapter of the story of Evita – her tragically unsuccessful fight against cervical cancer. A camera projects footage of the two million Argentinians who lined the streets of central Buenos Aires to glimpse her final public voyage from the Congress building to the Ministry of Labor where she had worked. While the ending of the story you’ve just learned is very heartbreaking and will leave you profoundly saddened, don’t be surprised to encounter locals unabashedly shedding tears while watching this last projection – here, the memory and symbolism of “Santa Evita” constitute a small part of Argentina’s collective experience and identity.
Finish your visit with a snack at the Café and Restaurante Museo Evita in the terraza in the back. Its more than your typical museum café and is renowned across the city for its great quality and beautiful ambiance of tiles and iron-cast furniture.
From the museum it’s a 20-minute walk to Evita’s final resting place, the Cementerio de Recoleta, a must-see while spending time in Buenos Aires. More of a city of tombs and mausoleums than a cemetery, the giant concrete burial grounds resemble those of New Orleans, but with much more ostentation and opulence. Membership and entrance is more exclusive than the gentlemen’s clubs and nightclubs that line the nearby streets. Here status, rather than money, is what matters and, given the circumstances, there is very little turnover and the waiting list doesn’t shorten very quickly. The tombs act as aboveground abodes for their occupants and are aligned in a grid like manner, complete with wide thoroughfares and narrow alleys. You feel that they should name these pedestrian avenues so that when you ask, someone can respond, “oh, just go down Park Ave., then take a right onto Main, then its your third left.” Evita’s tomb is hidden within this sprawling mess of buildings and traffic, but if you ask anyone, especially the staff at the entrance, it should be easy to find. Walk inside, take the first left, then take a right at the next large “avenue” and walk towards the large mass of cameras and their owners. Witnessing her celebrity, which endures and perhaps has even been strengthened by her death, firsthand is fascinating, but if you want to avoid the crowds try to schedule your visit with Evita for a weekday morning.
Afterwards, don’t forget to visit the Basílica Nuestra Señora de Pilar and see the ornate golden altar, typical of Spanish colonial religious interior design, and its whitewashed walls. If you do choose to visit on the weekend take a stroll around the market in adjoining park and browse through the interesting, though touristy, trinkets. By this point, having walked and gotten lost probably more than once in the avenues of the cemetery, rest your legs on the terraces of the many cafes, restaurants and bars that line the perimeter of the necropolis.
At first it all seems very hypocritical and one might develop a sense of resentment towards this woman who seemed to have manipulated the masses and instilled in them a possibly ill-placed sense of hope towards Peronism. But when you look deeper, Evita is emblematic of what makes Argentine society great. Its the combination of the “American dream” – the idea that we can all keep our chins up because with hard-work and ingenuity we can control our destiny and improve our lives – and a parallel realistic understanding that things don’t always work out for everyone and that its our collective duty to make sure that our fellow, out-of-luck and struggling countrymen don’t fall through the cracks. Evita’s transformation from her rural, poverty-stricken and fatherless childhood to her glamorous fame and wealth is representative of the fact that the sky is the limit. In one word: hope. Meanwhile, her faithful reverence towards the descamisados stands for national, and even human, fraternity. Together, the two form a beautiful partnership and the foundation of Argentine society that Evita so effortlessly symbolized.