Muy Bueno Karma!

Bahia Blanca, Argentina

March 17, 2007
S 38°43.060
W 062°15.923

The bus station and streets of El Bolson were pretty much deserted at 7AM; with the exception of stragglers coming home from the discotechas or those still drinking in the park. The lady where we were staying even questioned the existence of a 7AM bus since it isn’t common for Argentineans to be up that early—that was clear as we boarded the bus.

The bus from El Bolson took us as far as Bariloche. We waited an hour before transferring to another bus that was actually heading to Buenos Aires—a 24+ hour journey. Thank goodness our journey was “only” 13+ hours. We boarded our bus at precisely 10 AM and headed towards Bahia Blanca, our destination, on what should have been a long and uneventful day.

We headed out of the Lake District and took one last look at the perfectly colored sapphire blue lakes with picturesque mountain backdrops. As we headed east, the landscape changed to an agricultural setting with a labyrinth of irrigation ditches meandering through the fields next to the roads. The fields were lined with poplar trees, 30-50 ft tall, almost hiding the fruit trees behind them. The poplars provided shade and a wind brake to the cherries, apples, pears, plums and, of course, grapes.

We passed through several little towns very reminiscent of small California farm towns (Reedley, Lemoore, Clovis, Hughson, Denair) during the 60s and 70s. (Of course I have only seen pictures from the 60s.) We passed several 18 wheel trucks carrying wooden bins, stenciled with local farmer’s names or initials (LORI, LUGAR, IMF, TATI), full of fruit and headed for the cannery. After several hours we left the rich, agricultural soil and headed into a rough looking desert.

The entire trip was on a two lane road, but I think we spent as much time in the lane of on-coming traffic as in our own lane. At one point I think we passed a dozen semi trucks in a row and then darted back in our lane. Thank goodness I couldn’t really see out the front of the bus to know how close we really were to a head-on collision.

We stopped at several more bus stations before finally arriving in Bahia Blanca around 11:30 PM; 30 minutes after our scheduled arrival. We were happy to finally unload ourselves from the bus and couldn’t imagine another 12 hours to BA. Trust me; we would have taken a flight before enduring that bus ride!

Knowing we would be arriving close to midnight we pre-booked a hotel. We also decided to splurge a little for a place with a few more amenities, such as wireless access. We grabbed the first taxi we saw, a small white Fiat hatchback that could barely fit our two packs. We finally got everything in and closed the hatch and were on our way to the hotel. We made small talk with the driver on the short drive to the hotel (yes we’re from San Francisco -- Estados Unidos, yes we love Argentina, etc.). A wedding reception was just ending and the bride and groom were pulling away as we arrived. We got out of the cab and gave our driver a decent propina, or tip. We could tell he was surprised by the tip and seemed to enjoy spending a few minutes with a couple gringos from Estados Unidos.

Feeling very grimy after being on the bus for so long I immediately jumped into the shower. After my shower I started searching for our second water bottle, attached to Marc’s bag, to purify more water for the next morning. I scanned the room and couldn’t find it. I finally asked Marc. “Oh Fuck,” he exclaimed, “I left it in the cab.”

Marc’s bag is a shoulder type sling-bag that holds his camera, telephoto lense, memory cards, and, at the time, his iPOD. The vast majority of the photos on our blog our taken with Marc’s camera with only a few from mine. Fortunately, we shipped 3 of 4 memory cards home last week and we’ve been diligent about backing up our photos for situations like this. Needless to say, this was a big loss and very stressful… after several minutes and a few deep breaths we realized neither of us was hurt by the loss and everything was replaceable.

We immediately went downstairs and did our best to explain our situation to the two men (Mario Mariani & Ariel Mayor) working the night shift; it was about 12:45 AM at this time. They were the same men who helped us when we arrived at the hotel. They asked if we remembered the cab number or cab company, but after a 14 hour bus ride, noting the name and number of a cab was not high on our RADAR. In fact, at this hour and after that ride, we were lucky if we could remember our passport numbers. We explained we had no idea… they both solemnly shook their heads and we could tell they didn’t see a happy ending to the story.

Regardless, the nice men quickly got on the phone and started calling the various cab companies to report a lost bolson negra (black bag) left in the back seat. They suggested we go back to the bus station (picture to the right is the bus station during the day) to cover all of our bases. Now 1:00 AM, we jumped back into a cab and arrived at a nearly empty bus station a few minutes later, and explained our sob story to the information desk.

A police officer walked to the front of the station with us, told a few cab drivers what we were looking for and asked them to broadcast the information on their radios. He took our name and information, and told us he would call our hotel if it was returned. If we didn’t hear from him, he didn’t find the bag—it was that simple. Exhausted and dejected, we once again jumped back in a cab and headed back to our hotel.

Nothing changed when we arrived back at the hotel. We thanked the men and asked them to call if anything showed up in the middle of the night. We headed back upstairs; it was almost 2:00 AM at this point. I told Marc that I truly believed if the cab driver found the bag, he would return it. He seemed to like us and appreciated the tip. The unknown was if someone else found the bag first.

As Marc started putting a list together of everything he needed to replace immediately, and things that could wait until we returned to San Francisco (in a month), I looked up the word “reward” in my Spanish-English Dictionary.

In a last ditch effort I headed back downstairs. I told the two men we would give a “recompense” of 100 Argentina Pesos (~$33USD) for the return of the bag. They got back on the phone with all the cab companies and explained the reward. I thanked them again, reminded them to call, and headed back upstairs. We finally tried to get some sleep around 2:30 AM, but both of us were still disappointed about the loss and the effort required replacing everything. We accepted our fate at this point, it had been at least 2 ½ hours since the cab driver dropped us off and there was no sign of the bag. There was nothing more we could do.

The phone rang at 4:45 AM! I jumped out of bed immediately and told the men downstairs I would be right down. They informed me a cab driver was there and he claims he has the bag. I was dressed and at the door before Marc (just in his underwear) could even get to the edge of the bed, but I slowed down and waited as he handed me a 100 peso bill. I ran out the door without my glasses or any shoes. The wedding party was just returning as I hit the lobby, they looked fuzzy without my glasses. The cab driver was waiting just behind them. He explained he found the bag, but wasn’t sure who it belonged to until he heard the message over the radio.

I walked out to the cab with the driver. Marc’s bag was sitting all by itself in the front seat, waiting to be reunited with its owner. I told the guy how important the bag was to my husband and we really appreciated his honestly and efforts to return the bag. I handed him the 100 peso bill which he quickly refused—I insisted. This was more money than the guy probably made working all night long and we felt he deserved to buy something extra for himself, or his family.

I continued to thank the cabby profusely, and before grabbing the bag and heading back into the hotel I told him Muy Bueno, Muy Bueno Karma!, not knowing how to translate Karma into Spanish. He smiled and knew what I meant.