The C&C theme contined full blast on Friday. Before I left California, I mailed myself packages of books, personal documents, photos, mementos, and similar stuff: my life reduced to some cartons of essentials. They were supposed to arrive in 4 to 6 weeks but are just starting to arrive now, after 10 weeks. On Friday, I trudged down to the central post office for international shipments to pick up the first two packages. They don't deliver them to you and collect postage due/customs fees or even let you pick them up in your neighborhood post office. No, everyone has to go downtown to the central office and join in the crazed melée, what could be more fun?
I headed down to Retiro, another huge combination subway-commuter train station, next to the central bus depot and about 5 blocks from the international postal facility. I didn't walk into the post office, I squeezed in because it was literally jammed wall to wall with people. I took a number (47) from the dispenser and waited my turn. When they called the next number, 33, I was delighted...only 14 ahead of me! I thought maybe all of those people were there for something else. The next few numbers went by and I was relieved that I would apparently be served in just 10 or 15 minutes instead of the hours I had assumed when I first edged through the door. Then they called 38 verde (green). That's when I realized I was doomed. I had a yellow number, so there were actually 114 people ahead of me. To make matters worse, they call out the number like auctioneers, barely pausing for a breath between them. People can't possibly navigate through the jammed herd to one of the three counter spots before the clerk has already skipped ahead one or two numbers. At one point, that caused some shouting and scuffling and I thought back to Tuesday, wondering if I'd end up being crushed in a postal riot instead of a train riot.Two hours later, mostly spent admiring a very cute Argentino who was also waiting outside, I finally got called, forced my way to the counter, and presented my notices. That's when I realized I'd forgotten to bring my passport. The color scan in my wallet wasn't acceptable nor was my California license/photo ID. No, here the passport or DNI (kind of an internal passport) is everything. The clerk sent me home so that I could go back next week and experience the chaotic joy all over again.
That night I was logged into MSN and got the most unexpected instant message of my life. Denis, the thief. He pleaded for forgiveness and essentially said he did it because he was desperate for cash and wanted to go home to Chaco (in northern Argentina). I finally got him to confess how much he had sold my stuff for (my original cost was about US$ 450). 200 pesos. That's US$ 65. I would have paid him double or triple that just to get it back. Qué tonto (how stupid)! Equally stupid was him not thinking about my 20 years as a programmer. While he was telling me he'd gone back to Chaco using his ill-gotten gains, I was backtracing our connection and seeing that he was actually chatting from right here in Buenos Aires. Tip: everything you do online leaves a trace, never forget that! I've got a nice little chart of his movements by backtracing chats and emails, so I know which parts of the city he frequents, which internet cafés he visits, and so on. Our story isn't over yet, I've been making plans for him ever since he pilfered the goods.
Ultimately, I figured out what the purpose was of this contact. He wanted to know if he was a wanted man or not. He asked if I'd notified the police and when I told him the police had said he'd get at least 6 years in jail for the crime, he begged me to drop charges. He had no reply when I asked him why I would want to do that and he logged off soon after. I have no doubt he'll be back, with a new angle to get me to absolve him. That's fine, every contact just gets me closer to where I am going: obtaining justice (or perhaps it's revenge?).
On Saturday I enjoyed a respite from the institutional insanity and the graspings of larcenous acquaintances. I met with my friend Alex, one of the few new friends here who has been nothing but honest and sincere. He works for a superstore similar to a Walmart combined with a super-grocery and we met a few days after my arrival when I was shopping there. At that time he was working in customer service and he came to the register to help when I was fumbling in Spanish trying to pay with my credit card. He walked me all the way out of the store to the street and said he would enjoy getting together sometime to practice his English (which is already very good). Alex is straight with a wife and daughter, so don't leap to any conclusions!
Since then, we've gotten together occasionally to chat over a coffee or coke. He insists each time on taking turns to pay for the drinks, unlike the majority here who just expect that the "rich" American will pick up all tabs for all things. He's very polite, earnest, intelligent, and well read. If he were gay, I'd drop to my knees and propose (OK, maybe I wouldn't propose immediately after dropping to my knees). Seriously, I greatly enjoy his company and it's nice to spend time with someone who doesn't have an ulterior motive. We've discussed the problem here of so many people wanting what they can get right now without consideration for the future or other people. He's an astute thinker and I appreciate his insights into his country and his people.
On my way home, I helped a confused American couple find their subway stop. After my time with Alex, when they commented how nice and friendly the Argentine people are, I actually smiled and agreed.
No comments:
Post a Comment