They can talk about me plenty when I´m gone

I went to the Cementeria de Recoleta a few days back. It´s one of those tourist attractions that seems to be at the top of everyone´s to-do list in Buenos Aires. And it was quite an impressive spectacle. Beautiful and breath-taking, no doubt.

It´s the cemetary where everyone who´s anyone in Argentina is buried. Walking around the tombs is like reading a map of Buenos Aires. You finally understand where those strange street names come from, the inspiration for the plazas and the squares are all buried within the cemetary walls. Presidents and Generals and all the assorted nobility of the country inhabited this city of the departed.

But I found the whole place rather depressing. Yes the architecture was lovely and the some of the tombs awe inspiring. But the oldest, most elaborte of them had fallen into a state of disrepair. The luster had dulled, the marble had chipped and moss had grown around even the most grand of tombs. Even the shinny new ones that were kept up with obvious care didn´t provide me with a sense of equivalent value for a departed human soul. I suppose they do provide solace for the families of those entombed within.

But this was somebodies idea of immortality. A burial chamber that would last throughout the ages. But time will take it´s toll on even the most impressive architectural feat, from the Great Pyramid in Giza to the Taj Mahal. And eventually we´re forget about the Kings and Pharoahs who inspired these majestic masterpieces, and they´ll become nothing more than a place for tourists to come take pictures.

If this is how one lives throughout the ages than I want no part of it. If this is all you can leave behind to inspire those who come after you, then something is gravely wrong. I think Hunter S. Thompson had the best idea I´ve heard so far. Now I just need to find someone who´s willing to shoot my lifeless corpse out of a canon when the time comes. Come on, doesn´t that just sound cool?