Bienvenidos a Argentina!

December 17, 2010

Today is Wednesday (well actually it's Friday but I wrote this on Wednesday) and the last forty eight hours have been a bit crazy. On Monday we saw Claire and Garnet off: they went to the Southern-most town in the world, while we turned back North towards summer.  Later that day, we walked up the hill to see the mechanic who was working on the car. He explained to us that the car part (fuel pump) had not arrived on Saturday. This explained why he had not been at the shop at the agreed time on Saturday- when we had expected we would get the car back. He further explained that he expected the part to arrive from Buenos Aires that evening (Monday) and that the car would be fixed and ready to go a few hours later. This, mind you, was all explained by a very nice interpreter, Gloria, on the phone while the mechanic talked into one phone and I talked into another Gloria explained what we each said. At one point I asked the mechanic how likely he thought it was the part would arrive that day and he shrugged and simply said; “this is Argentina, I don’t know”. Much to our surprise, when we returned that day around 6pm the car was fixed! We happily handed him a wad of Garnet’s money and drove off with our lovely running auto. This was all very lucky, timing wise, because as we were about to leave with the car, Gloria, our interpreter, explained; “and now the problem is that El Calafate is running out of gas and so you must go quickly to the petrol station and wait 1/2-1 hour to get gas or else you will be stuck here for a few days or more.” So Buffy and I raced to the pump and waited for a half hour to fill up. We went back to our hostel, made dinner and went to bed.

At the bottom of the world (El Calafate) the sun sets around 2200 or 2230 and rises at 0430 or 0500, this time of year, and it is never actually dark outside. Around 0200 the next morning, this eager and very tall girl barged into our hostel room, awakening us and asking if we were the girls driving to Bariloche, that morning, because she needed a ride. I calmly explained to her that we were those girls and we were leaving at 0800 and would be in the kitchen at 0700 and she could find us then and get a ride. She proceeded to tell us that it was very important she get a ride as she needed to see her boyfriend and she would have to hitch-hike and so on.  Finally, after a few minutes of this we convinced her to leave us alone and find us in the morning. In the morning, Karen (the tall girl of the night) found us and we drove to pick up our other passenger, Louise.  

So with a full tank we happily and excitedly left El Calafate. We were four girls: one Argentinean, Karen, of German decent who was a tour guide, traveler, quad-linguist and all-out life-enthusiast, and one Dane, Louise, also a multi-linguist, traveler and super chill girl. Of course there was also me and Buffy who between the two of us speak one language. We drove for an hour or so when Karen asked if we could stop and get hot water for her mate’ (a traditional Argentinean tea), and this is when we made our first mistake. We pulled into a gas station and got some snacks and hot water and drove off, without filling up our gas tank.  Normally, this would make sense, since we had only used a quarter tank.  However, unbeknownst to us, this was a big error.  We drove towards Rio Gallegos and then made a 90 degree turn, north, towards Comodora Rivadavia--what was supposed to be our stop for the night and the half-way point to Bariloche. About an hour out of Rio Gallegos we turned into a gas station, since at that point we had less than half a tank and we wanted to switch drivers. We pulled up to the pump and it said “no hay combustibles” (“there is no gas”) and so we walked into the station and asked where the next station was. There, a few travelers coming south who told us there was no gas “anywhere” north of there, and we should turn around and try to find fuel in Rio Gallegos. The station manager agreed and explained that someone was striking, shrugged and said “this is Argentina “and that no fuel had been delivered to the region for almost a week. He also said there was likely no fuel in Purto Bueno, the next town 140km further north. We discussed our options as a group and then decided to keep going north and hope a fuel truck had come by.

We arrived in Purto Bueno around 1300 and there was no fuel, but the manager told us that hopefully the truck would be there at 2100 that night. At this point, Karen, who had been doing all of our translation, decided she would try and hitch-hike to Puerto San Julian where it was said fuel could be found. She only had a few days to see her boyfriend and get back to El Calafate and so she was really in a hurry. The rest of us, meanwhile, sat and pondered our fate.  We had less than an eighth of a tank and we needed a fourth to get us to San Julian, where we could hopefully fill up the tank. Around 1430, Louise and I decided to walk 3 km into the town and see if we could buy some fuel off of a local. Buffy stayed with the car just in case the fuel trucks arrived. Very quickly we ran into a woman who gave us a ride to the city’s other gas station where two young men said there was no fuel and would be none as far as they knew. We kept walking and every time we ran into someone Louise would kindly state in Spanish; “Hello, how are you, we have a problem-we have no gas and need to get to San Julian.” The townsfolk would reply, “Oh that is very bad, I am sorry for you” or “welcome to Argentina” and shrug. We did this a few times before we walked into a motorcycle shop and there a very nice gentleman gave us 2.5 liters of fuel (all we needed was five to get to San Julian). He refused to accept money for the gas and wished us luck, so we kept walking.

Louise kept asking her above line of everyone we passed with no luck, until we walked into an auto sales store where a man helped us. Louise asked him if he could help us and at first he told us “Oh that is very bad luck” and “this is Argentina” and then he said a bunch of stuff we didn’t understand and rubbed Louise’s belly and so we started to walk out.  He stopped us and told us to wait a minute and then he took our container and siphoned (with his mouth) fuel out of two motorcycles into it. We thanked him profusely and then started to walk out but he told us he would give us a ride and we accepted. We rode the roughly 1 km back to the gas station while he explained what he did in town and how long he had lived there and that he liked Louise very much. Louise went into the station to get Buffy and the keys and I stayed outside with the gas drinker. Then, he told me that he liked my friend very much and that he had gas and could drive her around town and take her to dinner. I explained to him that he could not do these things but he just laughed. He was about to siphon the gas into our car for us but stopped and said we should wait a moment so Louise could see, because she would like it and he would be cool. Now, I can’t speak Spanish very well, but after living in New Mexico for 22 years I understand loads, and I kid you-not when I tell you he said: “we must wait for the cute girl because she will like this and I will be cool.” So we waited till Louise retuned and he siphoned the gas into the tank and he explained to us that we should drive slowly or we might not make it to San Julian.  He wished us luck and gave each of us a very big kiss on the cheek (common Argentinean tradition). We got into the car laughing because he was really a nice guy and helped us out a lot but we couldn’t figure out what the belly rub was for.

And off we went to San Julian…..

Once we arrived in San Julian (around 1800) we got into the gas line which numbered 47 vehicles in front of us (Not that I immediately knew how long the line was, but I had plenty of time to count later that night!). So we got into line behind a camper truck with a French family in it, who explained to us that they had been waiting in San Julian for three days and had heard the gas was going to be there at 2000 that night. At 2030, the line wrapped around the entire block and doubled back onto itself, but still there was no gas. At 2130, the gas attendants said the gas would be there soon, and at 2300 we took out our sleeping bags and started to get ready for bed. By that time, people had started to leave the queue, so Louise went and asked why and was told that people were going home and would be back the next day to try again. At 2400 we went to sleep (or, at least tried to sleep) in the car- in line. Around 0300 we all awoke to honking horns.  Gas, finally!?  No, false alarm.  We pulled up a mere three car spaces as a few more cars had given up, turned off the car and went back to bed. At 0600, I woke up and walked down to the station and asked at what time the gas would arrive; the attendant replied, shrugging, “at 0800 or 0900”. I went back to the car and ate some left-overs from the night and around 0630 horns started honking and a gas truck pulled in.

Around 0730 we were fueled and on the road, but Argentina still had no gas and so we drove slowly and efficiently. We filled up in every town we passed that had fuel, knowing that we could run out at any point and that would be the end of the line for us. We finished our day, driving about eight hours, in Sarmiento, a wind-swept town of dinosaur bones and petrified forests, passing on the way Argentina’s oil reserves.



This is Argentina





Our Tank