Source: See Buenos Aires Index.
Image: Borges speaking about the Madres de la Plaza de Mayo, in his apartment in Summer 1985.

Part 2 of 4

Narrative continued: In the Summer of 1985, as soon as I got settled in a room in a three-star hotel, I called the phone number Borges had given me earlier in the United States. I did not know what the number would connect me to: an office? a secretary? a receptionist? María Kodama? an answering service? The last thing I expected was that the number belonged to his private residence, which you've been viewing in these Web pages. When I called, a stern woman's voice answered: it turned out it was that of his housekeeper. I told that Sr. Borges himself had given me this phone number and I quickly told her about his invitation to me to visit him whenever I would come to Buenos Aires. She told me to hold on. There followed a long silence. She gave me no indication what she was going to do with my message. After what seemed to me to be an eternity (this sounds Borgesian, ¿no?), I heard a voice, and to my complete surprise, it was Borges himself. Rather nervously and, of course, politely, feeling I had nothing to lose, I told him who I was and reminded him very hesitantly about his invitation to contact him when I was in his home city. His reply was as easy, swift, and courteous as it was nearly unexpected. He told me to come right over. I nearly dropped the phone. (I'm narrating this event as faithfully as I can all these years later. The memory seems fresh because I've told the story to others several dozen times over the years, but I've never written it down until now.) I agreed I would be at his apartment--his private apartment!--within the hour. Nervously, I picked up my camera, making certain it had film in it and that the battery fresh, I put on a professor's jacket and tie, combed my hair and beard (both were very long in those days), I went down to the street, caught a taxi, and got out on the corner of Maipú. I got out on the corner of the street because I didn't want to be left off right in front of his apartment building and I wanted to experience the walk down the street he lived on (see: => Buenos Aires #18a). Besides, in the state of anxiety and anticipation I was in, I felt a walk would help me calm my nerves.

Here ends the second segment of the whole story. The next segment is dedicated to the socio-historico-military context in which the conversation took place. The serious meat of the story—and it is very serious indeed—will be told in the conclusion in Part 4. For Part 3, click on this image: