Writings By Location| Surprises and Chaos in Argentina | 1 | 2 | 3 |
We left our hotel with our heads in a muddle, realizing that the handful of coins we held were now of completely dubious value. As we tried to make heads or tails (no pun intended) out of the situation, we walked across the street to the bus station to procure tickets to the national park. There, the very kind, English-speaking travel agent gave us his interpretation of the situation: there is no exchange rate. With the banks and change houses unable to change currency, trying to determine the exchange rate for dollars and pesos is essentially the same as asking what number comes right after infinity.
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| Garganta del Diablo |
The travel agent also told us something very important: when we got to the park, we would be required to pay an entrance fee of nine pesos per person, and they will only accept pesos. Interesting that a federal-run agency in a country that has two legal currencies will only accept one of them in this case, but we weren't about to argue, because if we were lucky, that would mean we'd get in cheaper. So, given we were out of pesos, we went in search of an ATM to withdraw another 100.
But the chaos spreads all the way to the US: my bank, I learned the following day, charged me 100 dollars for that. (I wrote them a lengthy email, providing them with at least two URLs that indicated what the proper exchange rate on the international market was, but honestly, if they can understand what the hell is going on here and can fix it, then they're probably the most qualified ones to run the country of Argentina.)
And surprises were further ahead for us when we reached the park. As I filed out of the bus, and stood in line to pay our entrance fees, a park ranger, or cashier, or somebody, kept trying to tell me that I can pay in US dollars in this other line over here. (I know what you're thinking, but no, it wasn't some guy with a tin can and a sign that read "Pay Heer" with backwards E's — it was also a legitimate cashier.) No, that's okay, I tried to tell him, I have pesos. He still seemed troubled by this, even though my limited Spanish was perfectly good enough for this exchange. When I reached the window, I said "two people" (again, in Spanish), but the woman frowned and spoke hesitatingly — in English — "You can pay in dollars over there." This time, I smiled and said, "No, pesos please." Her face then changed to that of a scolded puppy, and she sighed as she counted out my change.
That was when I realized, they wanted US dollars — even though they technically weren't allowed to accept them — because they knew that one day, hopefully soon, they'd put those bills under pillow at night, and wake up in the morning to find that the National Bank Fairy took it, and left 30 or 40% more in pesos.
Chaos, surprises, madness. I can't wait to find out what this whole venture will cost me in the end.
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| Why Is Erin Smiling? |
On a closing note, I should point out that not all of our surprises in Argentina have been bad. Whether I was more surprised by what happened at the Falls, or Erin was, remains uncertain. There at "Garganta del Diablo", we stood in awe, as we watched millions of gallons of water (each of which, here, is now equal to 40% more liters than before) plummet into the mist below, making a scene that was more expansive than Niagara, more breathtaking than Yosemite, and more turbulent than the Plaza del Congress, back at the capital. It was there that I decided to take advantage of the beautiful moment, not to mention the fact that fine jewelry was now 40% cheaper, by asking Erin to marry me.
Surprise! She said no. So I'll be home next week.
(Actually, she said yes. But which is the bigger surprise is still hard to say.)
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