I find it hard to believe that I have been here for almost four months now. I have become well versed in protecting myself from the local scams. I no longer feel badly about having a taxi driver hold up a 50 peso bill he is about to give me in the light to make sure it is real. My personal space boundaries have gone away after hundreds of subte and bus rides that are so packed, you often miss your stop because you cannot move to the door. My shoes have developed radar systems on them- sensing that I am approaching dog poo- and creating the appropriate maneuvers to keep me from stepping in it. It no longer amazes me that there are more people in the lines at the grocery stores than food in the isles. The strange fashions no longer give me the giggles, and I have even considered buying a pair of leggings and neon shoes (not quite there- but closer). Many would even be happy to know that my patience levels have also increased drastically- in most situations anyway.
However, the one thing that I would love to figure out is if we treat foreigners with the same disdain as they are treated with here. I have learned that we do charge citizens of certain countries large fees to enter the US. But do we try to over charge them for things, purposely try to rip them off and take pleasure in doing so, or have separate prices for natives vs. tourists?
Restaurants here try to add things to your bills or charge you for a more expensive bottle of wine than you ordered. When Greg and I were looking for airline tickets- the prices for non citizens are two times what they are for citizens. So- is it a tit-for-tat thing? Do we impose Gringo taxes?
While I do love many aspects of Argentina, it is a bit insulting to always feel as though people are trying to scam you. It is as if they are saying "Go back to your country- we don't want you here- but leave your wallet and send checks to support our economy". I now accept it as part of life here- but I would be a bit dismayed to find out that we also treat other foreigners this way. I would love thoughts and comments on this subject..... and will just assume that we are not that low in the States for now.
Friday, 28 August 2009
Saturday, 22 August 2009
Humpty Dumpty
I have never been a runner. I would even go so far to say that I actually immensely dislike it as a form of exercise. I loved sports and dance, etc.. and have always been athletic, but the idea of running several miles never really appealed to me. When I did run, I ran fast. Very fast. But never for long distances. At 5'2 (ok- 5'1 and 3/4), I am probably not meant to be a long distance runner either. For every two steps Greg takes, I take three.
However, I have always wanted to do a marathon. Only once. And the opportunity presented itself- while down here in Buenos Aires. After five knee surgeries- I also figured a sixth one would be tolerable.
While the city has several wonderful attributes, clean air is not one of them. Oxygen is actually pretty hard to come by- that is oxygen free from exhaust, parilla grill smoke, and cigarette smoke. But here I am, towards the end of my training- with about 5 weeks to go until the big day. We only now just found out that we can run in the ecological reserve- a five mile dirt path loop, free from cars and dog poo.
For the past several weeks, Greg and I have spent our mornings and Saturdays running. Today we had a training run of 18 miles. We have one last long training run of 20 miles- somehow a 12 mile run has become an easy day.
It is quite possibly the hardest thing I have ever done. I would equate it to giving birth once a week for a woman- no epidural offered. There is always a small part of you that wants to stop- you want it all to be over so you can have the end result. The part of you grows as the time goes by. And like the US deficit- once it gets going, it grows faster and larger by the minute.
Initially, it is easy to ignore. The mind is a powerful tool for pushing you beyond your limits. When you finish, every muscle- from your toes to you lower back- are cursing you. We usually get in a cab to go home- and I limp up to the shower in my apartment- every body part pulsating in pain. I think I fully understand what it will feel like to be 100.
So before- when someone said that they have run a marathon- I thought....wow that's great. I never fully appreciated the accomplishment it was. If I could run 1 mile, how hard would it be to do that 25 more times? Can it really be that hard? I have realized that their are limits your body has- it is not the invincible machine I once thought it was. And I have realized that mile 15 is not as easy as mile 1- at least not now....
So to those who have run a marathon- I salute you. It is an incredible accomplishment. I let you know if I make it through.
However, I have always wanted to do a marathon. Only once. And the opportunity presented itself- while down here in Buenos Aires. After five knee surgeries- I also figured a sixth one would be tolerable.
While the city has several wonderful attributes, clean air is not one of them. Oxygen is actually pretty hard to come by- that is oxygen free from exhaust, parilla grill smoke, and cigarette smoke. But here I am, towards the end of my training- with about 5 weeks to go until the big day. We only now just found out that we can run in the ecological reserve- a five mile dirt path loop, free from cars and dog poo.
For the past several weeks, Greg and I have spent our mornings and Saturdays running. Today we had a training run of 18 miles. We have one last long training run of 20 miles- somehow a 12 mile run has become an easy day.
It is quite possibly the hardest thing I have ever done. I would equate it to giving birth once a week for a woman- no epidural offered. There is always a small part of you that wants to stop- you want it all to be over so you can have the end result. The part of you grows as the time goes by. And like the US deficit- once it gets going, it grows faster and larger by the minute.
Initially, it is easy to ignore. The mind is a powerful tool for pushing you beyond your limits. When you finish, every muscle- from your toes to you lower back- are cursing you. We usually get in a cab to go home- and I limp up to the shower in my apartment- every body part pulsating in pain. I think I fully understand what it will feel like to be 100.
So before- when someone said that they have run a marathon- I thought....wow that's great. I never fully appreciated the accomplishment it was. If I could run 1 mile, how hard would it be to do that 25 more times? Can it really be that hard? I have realized that their are limits your body has- it is not the invincible machine I once thought it was. And I have realized that mile 15 is not as easy as mile 1- at least not now....
So to those who have run a marathon- I salute you. It is an incredible accomplishment. I let you know if I make it through.
Thursday, 13 August 2009
The Celebrity In Me
So- Buenos Aires is home to some amazing food, especially if you are a steak lover. However, when it comes to a good salad or vegetables, they seriously lack a supply. I recently went to a TGI Fridays to get a salad..... terrible, I know- but it is the only place that had what I was looking for.
So then I got to thinking- there must be a vegetarian or two in this country of 30 million people. While there is probably some tax imposed if you do not support the beef industry here- there mush be good vegetarian food to be had. So I went looking- and I found a few places.
Among them was a closed door restaurant. These are invitation only/ reservation only places- ultra exclusive- in the home of a chef. The menu is 4-6 courses and is set. So if you don't like the food- too bad. So I made a reservation at one of them..... 50 pesos- 5 courses- wine included- what a fantastic change to a 2 lb lump of beef on my plate!
It is called Donde Me Tragiste (where did you take me?) We arrived at a small gate to an apartment complex. Through the gate, you could see a long entrance way- lit only by candles. We rang the bell and waited. Moments later, a man came walking down the long entryway to welcome us. We followed him back and arrived at a small room- with four tables in it. Christmas lights danced to tango music. Candles provided the only other source of light. The coziness and scarce but fitting decorations on the wall only added to the experience. Throughout the night, four men with instruments squeezed into the room to play tango music.
Then dessert came- and with it a comedy show- loud, and flamboyant, and apparently funny ( not in English). We left four hours after we arrived- walking back through the very same gate - that on the outside looks like nothing special- but for those in the know- a treasure awaits inside.
So then I got to thinking- there must be a vegetarian or two in this country of 30 million people. While there is probably some tax imposed if you do not support the beef industry here- there mush be good vegetarian food to be had. So I went looking- and I found a few places.
Among them was a closed door restaurant. These are invitation only/ reservation only places- ultra exclusive- in the home of a chef. The menu is 4-6 courses and is set. So if you don't like the food- too bad. So I made a reservation at one of them..... 50 pesos- 5 courses- wine included- what a fantastic change to a 2 lb lump of beef on my plate!
It is called Donde Me Tragiste (where did you take me?) We arrived at a small gate to an apartment complex. Through the gate, you could see a long entrance way- lit only by candles. We rang the bell and waited. Moments later, a man came walking down the long entryway to welcome us. We followed him back and arrived at a small room- with four tables in it. Christmas lights danced to tango music. Candles provided the only other source of light. The coziness and scarce but fitting decorations on the wall only added to the experience. Throughout the night, four men with instruments squeezed into the room to play tango music.
Then dessert came- and with it a comedy show- loud, and flamboyant, and apparently funny ( not in English). We left four hours after we arrived- walking back through the very same gate - that on the outside looks like nothing special- but for those in the know- a treasure awaits inside.
Sunday, 9 August 2009
Donde Esta?
So Greg and I are looking into options for longer visas than 90 days. While it sounds great to head to another country to renew your visa- it is not always cheap, easy, or quick. So- we found out that you can become a student at UBA and get a year visa. Sounds easy, right? But this is Buenos Aires...... a country designed to teach people patience.
So we go to the university, as directed by the website (it was even in English). We are directed to office #4. There are two other people standing in front of the closed door for office #4. They knock, and after a few minutes, a woman comes to the door. She is probably in her early 50's, but age has not been kind. She, like age, is also not kind. It was as though it were a major interruption to do her job. How dare we interrupt her.... couldn't we tell she was on a cigarette break. So- the people in front of us ask a question in Spanish- get an answer- and walk away. Greg and I go to ask our question, and the door slams in our face. So- we knock. And a few minutes later the same woman comes to the door. She and Greg speak to each other in Spanish- and I can understand that we need to go to another place first. She rattles off an address and begins to close the door. We stop her and ask her to write down the address for us- after all, it was if she was speaking Tazmanian Devil Spanish- too fast for even locals to understand.
So- ten minutes later we leave, address in hand. We decide to go the next day. The next morning, we take the bus to the address. We arrive at this building covered completely in graffiti, all the doors adorned with chains, and not a soul in site. The remnants of a business sign remain- faded- but legible. We were at the right place- but we were three years too late. According to the kiosko man (small convenient store that sells everything from gum to shoelaces to hammers), the ministry of education relocated several years ago. We get the new address and find our way there. I am beginning to feel as though I am on some sort of game show that my family set me up on to teach me patience. This is place is too much to be real sometimes.
So we go to the "new" location. We are directed to an office isolated in a far corner. Another very enthusiastic and helpful woman greets us. In order to register, you must have a certified copy of your high school diploma sent to the school. Upon it being sent to the school, you must take the certified copy to a certified translator who will translate the diploma into Castellano. The certified copy must then be taken to another office who will give it their stamp of approval (hopefully), and then we need to bring it back to the office we started at (at the university), who will then give us a paper to bring back to the person we who was standing in front of us telling us the process. I am thinking the package people also take care of student enrollment processes.
So- we are trying to find other options. So far, the easiest way is to get married. We are trying to find a wife for Greg and a husband for me. We will be sending out invites to the wedding as soon as this is accomplished.
So we go to the university, as directed by the website (it was even in English). We are directed to office #4. There are two other people standing in front of the closed door for office #4. They knock, and after a few minutes, a woman comes to the door. She is probably in her early 50's, but age has not been kind. She, like age, is also not kind. It was as though it were a major interruption to do her job. How dare we interrupt her.... couldn't we tell she was on a cigarette break. So- the people in front of us ask a question in Spanish- get an answer- and walk away. Greg and I go to ask our question, and the door slams in our face. So- we knock. And a few minutes later the same woman comes to the door. She and Greg speak to each other in Spanish- and I can understand that we need to go to another place first. She rattles off an address and begins to close the door. We stop her and ask her to write down the address for us- after all, it was if she was speaking Tazmanian Devil Spanish- too fast for even locals to understand.
So- ten minutes later we leave, address in hand. We decide to go the next day. The next morning, we take the bus to the address. We arrive at this building covered completely in graffiti, all the doors adorned with chains, and not a soul in site. The remnants of a business sign remain- faded- but legible. We were at the right place- but we were three years too late. According to the kiosko man (small convenient store that sells everything from gum to shoelaces to hammers), the ministry of education relocated several years ago. We get the new address and find our way there. I am beginning to feel as though I am on some sort of game show that my family set me up on to teach me patience. This is place is too much to be real sometimes.
So we go to the "new" location. We are directed to an office isolated in a far corner. Another very enthusiastic and helpful woman greets us. In order to register, you must have a certified copy of your high school diploma sent to the school. Upon it being sent to the school, you must take the certified copy to a certified translator who will translate the diploma into Castellano. The certified copy must then be taken to another office who will give it their stamp of approval (hopefully), and then we need to bring it back to the office we started at (at the university), who will then give us a paper to bring back to the person we who was standing in front of us telling us the process. I am thinking the package people also take care of student enrollment processes.
So- we are trying to find other options. So far, the easiest way is to get married. We are trying to find a wife for Greg and a husband for me. We will be sending out invites to the wedding as soon as this is accomplished.
Pinocchio
I have learned a bit about the dark side of Buenos Aires. I spoke with a woman here who teaches Spanish. She began bragging about how much Argentines love to cheat foreigners. Really- bragging. It is kind of like gambling in Vegas- but with much higher odds. There is no guilt attached- no feelings of disgrace for malice intent towards the people that end up supporting many of the businesses here. (There are several types of businesses that exist here for the sole purpose of catering to North Americans and Europeans.... surgery centers, laser hair removal, condo buildings with $300K and up condos for sale (or rent), and most of the restaurants. Locals here rent an apartment for $200 (usd)/ month- If I wanted that same apartment... it would cost me $1500(usd) per month.
FYI...With the average salary of an Argentine being around 1800 pesos a month- a dinner of 100 pesos is not cheap. Even ice cream is around 10 pesos and coffee about 10-12. Would you pay $10 for a cup of coffee? Also- if you buy a house here, you must pay for it in cash. USD's- not pesos- and there are very few mortgages. If you are able to get a mortgage, expect to pay an interest rate of anywhere from 25-35%.
Back to the scams- counterfeit money is a very large problem here. If it is night time and you get in a cab, you should have small bills to pay with. The problem is that the ATM's give you 100 peso bills only and many stores are reluctant to give you small bills when you pay for things. They will often turn your business away if you do not have the small bills. So the cabs take advantage of people who try to pay with a large bill. They are notorious for giving out fake money. While you can easily spot the fakes in the light- there is often not enough time or light to get a good look. Bars and night clubs will also do this- and of course the tourists are targeted.
I met a mother and daughter from Canada who told me of a different experience. They were in a cab and needed to pay- but they only had 100's. They handed the cab driver a 100 peso note- and the cab driver quickly switched it with a 10 and told them they still owed 5 more pesos. They only had hundreds- so they knew what was going on. The cabbie made them go into t store to get change to pay him "the rest of what he was owed". I would have gotten out at this point- but they did what they were told and paid 105 pesos for a 15 peso ride. They will also take the money you give them, switch it for a fake- and then give it back to you saying you gave them fake money and they will not accept it.
I was in a cab last night and received a fake 50 peso bill. I knew exactly what was going on. They just feel different and the face was not in the bill when I held it up to the light- and I am cautious after the stories that I have heard. However, I was not in the mood to fight with a shady cab driver at 3:30 AM. So the guy got away with an extra $12.... I hope Karma reaps its vengeance. The part that really bothers me is the feeling of getting taken advantage of- or that many of these people get a kick out of stealing from you. There is not an option to call the police either- they are more corrupt than the cabbies. The first thing I was told by my Spanish tutor is to never get in the car with a cop. They will take all your money and valuables before letting you go. I am not surprised though, considering that they are vastly under paid and can earn a months salary in a night by giving criminals a free pass or robbing tourists.
I also learned that the bus companies have the biggest scam of all. When you get on a bus- you have to have monetas (coins) to put in the machine for your bus fair. There are no bus passes. You pay every time you board the bus- and you cannot use bills and get change. So monetas are hard to come by here. Everyone wants them for their bus fares- and stores are reluctant to give them up. Even banks seldom give them out. So- I always wondered what happened to the monetas. Why are they so hard to get.... it's not like there are magic monsters that live off monetas and consume the countries supply. No- the bus companies hoard the monetas and sell them to business at a premium. So if you buy 100 pesos worth of monetas- it will cost you 120 pesos. Genius, really, when you think about it... for the bus companies anyway.
So- I have concluded that I pretty much live in the wild wild west. It is definitely a place where anything goes- and if you are caught.... you just need to have enough cash to pay off the police.
FYI...With the average salary of an Argentine being around 1800 pesos a month- a dinner of 100 pesos is not cheap. Even ice cream is around 10 pesos and coffee about 10-12. Would you pay $10 for a cup of coffee? Also- if you buy a house here, you must pay for it in cash. USD's- not pesos- and there are very few mortgages. If you are able to get a mortgage, expect to pay an interest rate of anywhere from 25-35%.
Back to the scams- counterfeit money is a very large problem here. If it is night time and you get in a cab, you should have small bills to pay with. The problem is that the ATM's give you 100 peso bills only and many stores are reluctant to give you small bills when you pay for things. They will often turn your business away if you do not have the small bills. So the cabs take advantage of people who try to pay with a large bill. They are notorious for giving out fake money. While you can easily spot the fakes in the light- there is often not enough time or light to get a good look. Bars and night clubs will also do this- and of course the tourists are targeted.
I met a mother and daughter from Canada who told me of a different experience. They were in a cab and needed to pay- but they only had 100's. They handed the cab driver a 100 peso note- and the cab driver quickly switched it with a 10 and told them they still owed 5 more pesos. They only had hundreds- so they knew what was going on. The cabbie made them go into t store to get change to pay him "the rest of what he was owed". I would have gotten out at this point- but they did what they were told and paid 105 pesos for a 15 peso ride. They will also take the money you give them, switch it for a fake- and then give it back to you saying you gave them fake money and they will not accept it.
I was in a cab last night and received a fake 50 peso bill. I knew exactly what was going on. They just feel different and the face was not in the bill when I held it up to the light- and I am cautious after the stories that I have heard. However, I was not in the mood to fight with a shady cab driver at 3:30 AM. So the guy got away with an extra $12.... I hope Karma reaps its vengeance. The part that really bothers me is the feeling of getting taken advantage of- or that many of these people get a kick out of stealing from you. There is not an option to call the police either- they are more corrupt than the cabbies. The first thing I was told by my Spanish tutor is to never get in the car with a cop. They will take all your money and valuables before letting you go. I am not surprised though, considering that they are vastly under paid and can earn a months salary in a night by giving criminals a free pass or robbing tourists.
I also learned that the bus companies have the biggest scam of all. When you get on a bus- you have to have monetas (coins) to put in the machine for your bus fair. There are no bus passes. You pay every time you board the bus- and you cannot use bills and get change. So monetas are hard to come by here. Everyone wants them for their bus fares- and stores are reluctant to give them up. Even banks seldom give them out. So- I always wondered what happened to the monetas. Why are they so hard to get.... it's not like there are magic monsters that live off monetas and consume the countries supply. No- the bus companies hoard the monetas and sell them to business at a premium. So if you buy 100 pesos worth of monetas- it will cost you 120 pesos. Genius, really, when you think about it... for the bus companies anyway.
So- I have concluded that I pretty much live in the wild wild west. It is definitely a place where anything goes- and if you are caught.... you just need to have enough cash to pay off the police.
Monday, 3 August 2009
Parking In Buenos Aires
And who said bumper cars were only for amusement parks? (Just as an FYI- this is not rare to see- it is extremely common- and there is often a person who stands on the street to help you get in and out of the parking spot- yet another way to create jobs- and you are expected to tip him. )
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