Sunday, Feb 5th, 2012
While we would have liked to think we knew what we were
doing, we didn’t, and so a huge group of us continued forward looking for a
place to catch a bite. Or a drink…which I had to laugh about because it was
maybe 6 or 7 in the evening, which means that you’re not at a bar in Argentina
(or anywhere, really?). Bars here don’t even begin to get acceptable until
around 2 in the morning. But we settled on the Van Gogh café. Unable to shake
most of the group, there were a lot of us sitting and basically screaming in
the back table.
Just like Europe, you have to pay for water, and I was on
the brink of dehydration, but in despair that refills were not unlimited, and
each one would cost about $3 USD…Everybody placed their order (for me, the
spinach and cheese empanada and a water) and watched to see if the waitress
understood our orders or not. Once Tonya placed her order, a waitress came back
and asked her again what she wanted, because the first one admitted she had no
idea, even though she only asked for té
con leche, a simple request, no? That’s the thing—even if you think you’re
speaking clearly and with the right phrases, people still might not understand
you. This is one of the reasons why I think anybody who’s serious about
language needs to go abroad. Some of the things you learn in Spanish class are
correct, but not the way they’re actually said, so if you’re not out and about
practicing it in action, chances are, you’re only good at language in theory.
Before we left, a few of us noticed a gigantic man walk in
to use the restroom, and on his way there, he stared at us in a strange way.
After going to the bathroom, he left for a bit, then came back to eat, once
again giving us the staredown. Our orientation had basically suggested that if
anyone is doing anything near you, they’re trying to steal your wallet, and we
all got a paranoid feeling about him. So after our complicated check-splitting,
we were back on Cabildo, bidding adieu to everyone and turning around every 5
seconds to make sure he wasn’t following us back to the apartment…
After what seemed like an eternity walking down the endless
road that is Cabildo, we made it back to the apartment and buzzed 2F. I hadn’t
gotten my key yet and Tonya didn’t think to bring hers. Nobody buzzed back.
Maybe they didn’t hear us? We buzzed again. Still nothing. I began to panic
slightly. Maybe it was the case that only Ana was home and she was showering??
Yes, of course, that had to be it. She didn’t mention that she’d be out of the
house, so that had to be it. We walked around Cabildo a little more and
returned thinking for sure this time we would get in. We were wrong again. One
of the neighbors in the building let us in (even though this is the number one
rule of “absolutely don’t do this” in Argentina…) and we felt relieved, only to
realize that we needed a key still to open the door to the apartment. We rang
the door just outside, and again we failed. Having no other choice, we walked
back down to get out of the building and realized that we would be trapped in
the building without a key. And while this is rather ingenious (because if you
can’t leave without a key, you’ll never forget yours, thus preventing this
whole situation in the first place), for us it was horrible, because it meant
we were stuck on the other side. Luckily someone had ordered pizza and came
down to get it and let us out. Neither of us had cell phones yet, so we decided
to try a public phone. But we didn’t have any centavo coins. We walked to a gas
station to buy something cheap and get a peso or two back, which was more complicated
than you’d think, especially given the Argentine reluctance to give proper
change…But finally we got our centavos and ran back to the pay phone. Only to
discover it was dead. No dial tone. No nothing. There was no way for us to find
out where Ana and Juan were. I could feel a little bit of cortisol starting to
pulse through my veins. We decided that we had no other option but to eat a
full dinner and wait for Ana and Juan to get back. If they would be back…
We ate at the café across the street from our apartment so
that we could watch for Ana and Juan’s green car pulling up (which we of course
hoped would actually happen…). I got the gnocchi so I could have my first bite
of true Argentine gnocchi (another food quest for the best gnocchi!). I’ve had
gnocchi before, but this—this gnocchi melted in my mouth and didn’t stick to my
teeth the way some gnocchi does. And the sauce—perfect. I paced each bite
because it would be a waste to eat this quickly and besides, we wanted to take
as long as possible at dinner to continue our stake-out of the apartment. I didn't follow this logic with my water, however. I guzzled it quickly.
I was starting to lose my cool. Tonya was somehow calm and
collected about the whole thing. I could only think about the fact that
Argentines are notorious for staying out all night. What if they were out
drinking? If they were, they wouldn’t be able to drive home, because they’d be
drunk. And even so, people stay out until 6 in the morning…Oh my god. I had
money on me, but only enough for small things like drinks, dinner and a little
more. If we had to get a room in a hostel, I’d have no way to pay. There seemed
to be no bars (open all night) nearby, either, so there was no safehaven for
us. After trying to eat as slowly as we could, we had to finish, and asked the
waiter where the nearest phone was, aside from the shitty street phone. He told
us there was a place where you could place calls for free nearby, but they
would close in an hour. We thanked him endlessly and ran back in the direction
of the shitty phone. And discovered that the phone place was closed. Panic mode
engaged. It seemed like no matter what we did, the odds were never in our favor
and we’d never be able to get home. We walked back to the restaurant to tell
the waiter it was closed and asked if there was something else we could do. He
broke down and let us use the business phone. Which was convenient until we
realized that landlines don’t make calls to cell phones. WHAT THE HELL KIND OF
COUNTRY IS THIS? An employee said it was ok if we used his phone (which I am
still eternally grateful for) and we got a hold of Juan, which was a miracle
because I figured with our luck, he wouldn’t hear it ring. He explained that
they were out of the city (about 60 miles outside the city…) with friends. The
soonest they could be back was 1:00am. He somehow wasn’t pissed off at the fact
that the key had been forgotten. Our luck was changing.
After a million “MUCHAS GRACIAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” we began
walking to look for a place where we could hang out until our host family
returned. But most places were closed, or on their way to closing. We saw a
bingo hall where a woman walked out. Sure it’s bingo, but if playing bingo
meant keeping me inside and off the streets at an increasingly scary time of
night, I’d play bingo til sunrise. But we couldn’t go in. I couldn’t understand
what the man at the cashier’s booth was saying, but I knew it meant no. Fuck.
WHERE ARE WE GONNA GO? I was really losing it. The only thing open were
restaurants, but I was sick of spending money on food. We finally settled on a
restaurant and only got water, to which the waiter seemed quite angry about,
but we didn’t care. After a conversation about nuestros novios, we realized it
was already 12:41, so we should start heading back.
We rang for 2F again, to no avail. The green car wasn’t
parked on the road, either. FUCK. The street was even sketchier than when we’d
left as virtually nothing was open, nor were there many people. And nothing is
worse than being 2 tiny chicks in a huge city, alone, past midnight with
nowhere to go. We considered getting in a cab just to go for a drive, but we
weren’t sure we’d have enough money and didn’t wanna end up somewhere even more
deserted or dangerous and get lost. So we just walked to a gas station that
looked open, but there was an attendant standing in the door making us feel
like they were closed. We walked back. Still no car. We walked back to the gas
station again, increasingly paranoid of the guys sitting on a bench that we
kept walking by. Surely they knew something was up with us and had every
opportunity to accost us. I was definitely in panic mode. We made it back to
the house and there was still no car, but we were tired of walking and didn’t
know where else to walk. Our street was empty and shaded by trees. A man walked
by and we instinctively got closer to the door, like we were waiting for
someone to open it like nothing was going on. 1:07. Argentines are notoriously
late for everything, so I thought maybe this would be my first story of how I got
kidnapped, until I saw a green car parallel park in front of our building. THEY
ARRIVED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I was never so happy to crawl into bed in my life.
I cried my eyes out because I was scared (all they emphasized in orientation
was that you’d probably get mugged, don’t trust anyone, really don’t trust
anyone, and if you ask for help, you’ll probably get mugged or ignored) and
just wanted to go home. Ticket for 1 to homesickness? Coming right up, miss. Would you like a water with that, too?
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