A little hand-lotion, a hard move, and home cookin'!

Buenos Aires (Palermo District), Argentina

March 28, 2007
S 34°35.045
W 058°24.500

My plan today was to discuss the wonderful meal we had last night at a cute little restaurant we found by chance. Café Cumana, was totally packed, and just doors down the street from the Mexican restaurant we tried a couple days prior. I wanted to tell everyone about the great empanadas and the chic lesbian chit-chat that took place at the table next to us which ended in the two feeding each other—until the events from today unfolded.

We were really looking forward to today; moving into our apartment and having a home cooked meal, but nothing is as easy as it seems, right? That was definitely the case for us today.

We woke up this morning and quickly packed up our stuff for the last time for awhile, went downstairs to checkout and checked our backpacks with the doorman. We headed out into the humid and overcast Congreso district with our daypack (and computer), in search of coffee, free Wi-Fi, and the goal of burning a few hours before getting the keys to our apartment.

After 2 ½ hours of web surfing we headed back to our hotel to grab our backpacks; about 45 minutes prior to our appointment with the apartment agent. As we walked down a side-street, about a half block from the hotel, someone started yelling at us, “you, you, you!...” I didn’t really pay much attention to the yelling, but a young woman came up behind me and pointed at Marc’s back. Marc was wearing the daypack with our computer and his infamous camera bag and it looked like a bird pooped on the backpack. At least that was my initial thought, until I saw the mess was all down his pants too. The woman started pointing at the back of my legs as well and “conveniently” had a towel available, signaling she was willing to help wipe it off.

I was immediately alarmed by the fact that she had the towel readily available. Marc and I only momentarily broke stride and quickly walked back to the hotel covered in what turned out to be hand-lotion. We wiped the lotion of our clothes and our daypack, grabbed our backpacks and jumped in a cab to our new neighborhood… successfully avoiding one of the most popular robbery ploys, see outline below:
1) Foreign substance (mustard, paint, or hand-lotion) is tossed on an unsuspecting tourist
2) Tourist stops to review the damage
3) “Friendly” local(s) approaches tourist to help clean up the mess (and close the gap)
4) “Friendly” local(s) then pickpockets or mugs unsuspecting tourist

The day can only get better, right?

We were scheduled to meet the owner and the associate, Gabrielle, from the property management company at 3:00 PM. We immediately liked the apartment; I checked out the kitchen equipment and came up with a rough dinner menu in my head. We sat down with the owner and Gabrielle and reviewed the contract (all in Spanish, of course). There was a statement on the second page regarding payment that immediately caught my eye.

The statement said we had to pay the entire amount of the rent (16 days) plus a $300 USD deposit in cash. The Property Management Company never told us anything about a cash payment of almost $1000 USD, and actually took our credit card information when we made the reservation. The understanding, at least on our side, was they would charge the card the entire amount today.

We’ve been out of US dollars for sometime now except for $200 we hid in the bottom of Marc’s sleeping bag, but we were still VERY short. If we knew about the cash payment, we would have had cash, and were very perplexed as to how this important detail wasn’t explained before our meeting.

Gabrielle suggested we head to a bank down the street to withdrawal some cash. We were concerned about the daily maximum for withdrawals but since we had two ATM cards—we should be fine, no problemo. We all headed out to the bank—yes, all of us, the owner, Gabrielle, Marc and I. We figured we would be done in no time and our next stop would be the Super Mercado to buy groceries for our first home-cooked meal in months.

Our first stop was a Citibank a stone’s throw away from the apartment only to be denied; not because we didn’t have money, but because the ATM didn’t have money. Gabrielle talked to a bank representative and they were working to refill the ATM machine (yes, they only had one ATM!) We headed across the plaza to another bank with only one ATM that was out of service. Both of the ATMs we tried were part of the Banelco network; Banelco limits the amount you can take out regardless of what your bank allows (discovered through trial and error). We told Gabrielle and the owner we really needed a bank that is part of the Link network… again, through trial and error we found Link ATM’s allow you to withdraw close to your daily limit.

Now we headed to a third bank to withdrawal the required money, it was part of the Link network, and we thought we were in luck. We were wrong. The ATM was completely out of service and money. Marc and I were both completely frustrated at this point and didn’t know what to do. We were happy they came with us to witness the bank inefficiencies in their country—I don’t think this was a new problem for them… they didn’t seem surprised at all.

After one last failed attempt at Citibank, and swearing under our breath about the unbelievable inefficiencies of South America, Marc told Gabrielle we could amend the apartment contract to start tomorrow. This is when I started tearing up—I was so looking forward to being in our apartment tonight. I didn’t want to trudge my luggage around trying to find somewhere else to stay—I only wanted to get in the kitchen and cook us a nice dinner and not stress about where we were going to eat, how far we had to walk, etc.

Gabrielle saw my tears and frustration and quickly came over to console me. She knew first hand about the banking inefficiencies after her ATM card failed to work for four months. She actually moved all of her money out of Argentina and now uses a bank in Brazil—I can’t say I blame her.

The owner and Gabrielle agreed to take the little cash we had and alter the contract to show the remaining payment—due by Monday. We were able to stay the night and cook our first meal in over two months—roasted chicken and potatoes, tomato and fresh mozzarella salad, bread and a bottle of Latitud33.

Other notes: We shouldn’t have been surprised at the inability or unwillingness to take credit cards… we’ve had many such stories, even with major corporations like American Airlines. When we were in Puerto Natales we called American Airlines to change a flight. There was a small fare difference ($27 USD), and since they couldn’t charge my credit card over the phone, they advised me to go to Santander Santiago and make a bank deposit and then call them back with the wire number. I threw a fit and told the American Airlines person (who was based in Chile) that this was the most ridiculous process I had ever heard. It turns out it isn’t ridiculous to them, but normal practice. Another example… we were told to go to Western Union and wire money to a company to pay for our Boca Junior tickets. We opted to go to the office instead and pay in person.

After Argentina's economic crash in 2001, several of the banks closed down, and their president put a daily limit on bank withdrawals to protect the banks still open. People could only withdrawal approximately $100 USD/day. The country still suffers from the crisis and this is apparent when we try to get money, like today. Forget trying to get money on a Sunday, all ATMs are completely out of cash! Since the country operates largely in cash, most people go to the bank during the very limited bank hours (10:00 AM to 3:00 PM) and complete any transactions necessary. The lines at banks on Monday mornings stretch out the door and down the street.

This is very hard for us to comprehend (and frustrating) since we do everything electronically. It’s days like this that make us appreciate the technology we’ve become accustomed to. It makes us question how countries like this will be able to compete on a global scale.