Aduanas Argentina wtf???? Two new friends!!!!!

Friday September 21, 2007

Ladies and gentleman please read this entry with great heed for here lies a cautionary tale. Never never never FUCKING NEVER ship anything to Argentina for yourself or anyone unless it’s a service that brings it to your door. Yesterday I finally embarked on the adventure to pick up my 11lbs box of hair supplies that I shipped to myself. An adventure it was indeed. I shipped my package two weeks ago and it had been sitting in Aduanas Argentina (foreign customs) for a week. Then they decided to send me my notice to pick it up. When I received my notice I found out my package was sitting way across town in retiro. A $15 peso taxi ride from my house. After debating whether I should take a taxi or bus. I decided to take a bus to the post office then a taxi back as I was not going to carry that big box on a collectivo. So with a drawn map and directions from Nestor I was off. I hopped on the 93 collectivo, which of course was packed. As more people piled on I realized I was far from the bell by the back door which you need to press in order for the bus to stop or it will wiz by your destination? Since it was a nice day out, I decided to get off the bus early and walk. As I was walking, I spotted another young girl of color. She spotted me to and we both grinned and said hola. I noticed this always happened every time another person of color and I bumped into each other, but I digress. Of course I became loss and had to take a cab there anyway, because I was close the cost of the cab was inexpensive. I was expecting a system quite similar to the postal system in the United States. Were yes you wait on a long line but you present your slip and get your package. When I got out the taxi I approached a building that looked like a warehouse. I followed a path to a little side door. I peeped into a small front area with a counter. Further back was an even bigger room similar to a waiting room in a clinic, with a large amount of people waiting. About thirty people hurdled around the counter in the front area, and twenty more people sat behind them. I decided to wait outside with the other fifth-teen people. I was not sure how the line was working so I just stood there and waited. Luckily a woman took pity on me and asked what my number was. This was her way of telling me I needed to go inside and get a number and wait for it to be called. I thanked her for the heads up and plucked a number from the ticket dispenser that reminded me of an elf hat. My ticket read: Su turno B01. The workers at the counter mumbled the numbers fast in Spanish that I did not know if I would recognize my number when it was called. My body language revealed my thoughts and a guy caught my confusion.

“Que Pasa”

I explained to him that I don’t speak Spanish that well yet so I was not sure if I would hear my number when I was called. He looked at my number and said

“Media Hora”

and that I had a while to wait anyway. After an hour, when the numbers called became closer to the bees I moved towards the door of the room. I heard my number called ten minuets later. I wasn’t quite sure but a guy with the number after me rushed me towards the desk. The man at the desk took my paper and said something in Spanish I could not understand. I explained to him that I could not speak Spanish that well yet. An American girl jumped in to help translate. She told me he said to put my passport number and name on the back of the paper. I pulled out the photocopy of my passport, as I did not carry the real one around with me, as it is advised not to. The woman at the counter informed me that I could not use it. An Argentine woman that was listening the whole time jumped in with a snooty attitude and said

“Its written on the back that you need to bring your passport.”

I explained I couldn’t read Spanish yet.

“Well this isn’t America.”

She snapped. My first instinct was to say

“Well believe me I am well aware of that because our mail system is not like a fucking soup kitchen line.”

But instead I decided to bite my tongue take a cab home get my passport and come back. The day would not be through without me getting my fucking package. I ran to a Radio Taxi that had just let someone out. I hoped in and told him the address to my place. The office closed at 17:00hrs and was only 14:17. There was traffic but I was confident I would make it on time. As the taxi was driving on the busy intersection, two young men dressed in similar uniform, garbage bag green jackets and pants that looked like windbreaker material. Walked across the front of the intersection once the cars stopped at a red light. In changing of the guard movement they held up a huge board, which contained a campaign and a picture of a politician on it. Before the light turned they brought the boards down and moved back across the intersection. It brought to mind how a friend of mind told me politicians give poor people here a burger and a coke to be on their campaigns.

When the taxi pulled up in front of my building I quickly paid him and ran up stairs to grab my passport. I surveyed my wallet to ensure that I had enough small bills to grab a taxi back to Aduana Argentina then back home again. As everyone knows that taxi’s in Buenos Aires don’t ever have change or like big bills. Of course all I had were big bills because it’s almost impossible to get change here. So I ran out the door with my stuff and to an ATM. I chose the amount of 90 pesos hoping to get all twenties. Of course I received two twenties and a fifty. Good enough. I grabbed a taxi a few blocks from the ATM straight back to the postal office. As soon as I made my way back up the path a guy seen me and smiled and waved hi. I realized he must have been there when I had my little miss hap earlier. I smiled at him and said

“That’s right I came back!”

I grabbed another number from the elf hat. I was now Su Turno C 79. This time there were more people than before. At least a little over one hundred. Once again they all hurtled in like cattle around the counter. I knew I could not fit in the room so I listened by the door as best I could. Another girl closer to the door seen me struggling and told me the number they were up to in Spanish. I noticed an American accent and asked were she was from. She indeed was from America. Her name was kerri. She was very tall with short blond hair. She wore a sweat suit by the clothing line pink made by Victoria Secret. We began complaining about the frustrating mail system. When another girl heard us. She turned out to be from America too. It was getting closer to my number so even though I was dreading it. I dived into the people and stood near the front counter. At that point I just wanted my package and to leave. Kerri stood next to me in line. She heard my number and told me to go up there. When I reached the front of the counter I presented my passport with my form already filled out. I signed my mail slip and expected to be presented with my package. Oh no. The man at the counter tore a piece of my slip off, gave it to me, and told me to wait in the room that looked like a clinic waiting room. He said listen for them to call your name and number. I could not believe this. It was a never-ending process. I did not know what was going to happen at the end of the day all I knew was I was not leaving the building without my package. Kerri made her way in the room and I sat next to her. We made ourselves laugh and tried to get through the situation as best we could. Another American girl sat behind us and began to talk to us. Her name was Jennifer as well. She was a young Asian girl and not to happy with Buenos Aires. She shared the story of her robbery on Monday night with us. She was locked in an Atm with five young boys and they took everything from her. She said she hated it here and wanted to leave but if she did not stay she would not earn the credits form her college. I told her I felt that way in the beginning but decided to give the country a chance because it might get better as time moves forward.

“Not to be a Debbie downer but girl I have been here since May and it still hasn’t gotten better.”

I thought I heard my number called but wasn’t sure. Kerri and Jennifer told me to go in the little back room (were everyone disappeared into when their name was called) and ask if my number was called.

“Ok but if I get shot I am coming back for you.”

I pushed through the turn stop and opened a little door. To the right of me was a glass. Behind the glass a family sat waiting. When I turned to the left I found another door. I was beginning to feel like Alice and wonderland and was expecting to find a little white Rabbit behind door number two. Instead I found men in white lab coats. Behind them moved packages on a conveyer belt like in a toy factory. One of the men had seen the confused look on my face when I walked in and asked what I needed. I asked him if he called my number. The man told me they didn’t and asked my name. He told me he would make sure it was called and I should wait back in the front and listen for it. I informed my friends that no my number was not called but they will be calling names for packages so the did not need to worry. After another ten minuets of Jennifer making me laugh till I cried I heard my name called. I rushed to the back. When I seen my package It was like a mother seeing there newborn for the first time. I no longer needed to be afraid of looking like buckwheat while I was in Argentina. I came back out into the waiting room with my package and Jennifer was a bit sad that I was leaving. I told her no that I would wait until they get their packages so that we can leave together. Kerri and Jennifer were called not to long after me and we headed out together. We made sure to exchange contact info before we left. Jennifer and I shared a cab. Her destination her class that she was late for and mine home. We parted ways planning on checking out the club dynamite that supposedly plays New York style hip-hop on Wednesday. I opened up my package and sifted through it to make sure nothing was damaged. Most importantly that none of my tub of relaxer spilled out. I put everything back in the box and took the elevator up to the eighth floor to show Nestor my package. Nestor was happy for me and was glad my package made it safely.
I was so exhausted from the whole mail ordeal. So I made dinner and was planning on having a chill night. Then I received a call on my phone. It was another student of my Spanish tutors. The Wednesday she came to see me for one of our sessions she seen that I was very sad. I told her it was still strange for me here and I did not have that many friends. She asked if I wanted her to give my number to her other students. I said why not. So here it was that I was receiving a call from one of them. He told me his friends were having a house party in San Telmo and if I wanted to come I could. I said I would love to. We agreed to meet in front of the Palermo mall and go over to the party together. I was excited. I always wanted to check out San Telmo. I also thought this would be a good opportunity to meet hot guys and new friends. I dressed up as fancy as I could (I needed to do laundry and did not have much to work with) I met Bo outside the mall. He had long blonde hair and reminded me of a vintage character from California in the 60’s. We hopped on the bus to San Telmo. He described his experiences in Buenos Aires to me. He said his friends whose party we were going to was made up of ten British girls and two British guys. They considered themselves a family and even drew a family tree. In November they planed to rent a big house outside of Buenos Aires and get smashed. Fun I thought. I was a little disappointed that his friends were mostly girls. There goes the hot guy fantasy for me. A girl and a man got on the bus. The man looked like Santa Clause and the girl was fat with bad acne. They sat in the bus seats directly in front of us. Then I noticed the man begin to stare at me with disgust. The girl looked at both Bo and me with a sneer. She kept whispering in the old mans ear. When bo got up to ask the bus driver a question the girl looked him up and down like he had shit on him. I figured it was a prejudice against Americans or something, but they were very prejudice people. I brought it to Bo’s attention in front of them and we just basically gave them the fuck off and get a life look and were on our way. San Telmo was a ghostly place at night. The cobbled stoned street pushed on our shoes as we walked passed a building that looked about hundred years old. Its age did not fade its charm and the building retained its elegance. Its balcony was withered and age eat through the bottom. We came to Bo’s friends house. The doors were wooden and reached way above our heads. Before we could ring the buzzer two of Bo’s friends approached from behind us and let us in. One was tall and English with a Cesar cut. His name was Ben. The other was short and Argentine, and I don’t remember his name. We walked up the curved spiral steps to the second floor. The rooms of the apartment all had French doors attached to them. Everyone was in the kitchen. Loud music played. Sitting at the long kitchen table sat nine of the British girls. In front of them sat alcohol all shapes and sizes. When we walked in they screeched

“Ooooooh Halo”

Bo pointed to each one and told be their names of course I would never remember them. As each song changed the girls would start banging on the table and sing along. It was apparent they were already drunk. I stood back and looked for people to talk to. I found a nice girl Iris. I thought she was Argentine but found out she was from France. I was given a cup of wine. Iris and I moved into the living room were it was a little more tame. A shy Asian girl stood in their alone. She said she did not feel comfortable in the other room. So Iris, the Asian girl and I kept each other’s company. Soon the house filled up and everyone joined us in the living room. Three Argentine guys walked in. One stood out to me immediately. He wore a red turtleneck, black sweat pants and flat black acrobatic shoes. His hair was cut in a Cesar except for a short curly ponytail in the back. He had eyes like a one year old wide and curious. His cheekbones sat high, and his lips were small and full. I could tell he was some type of artist. The other one had longer hair and a mustache and spoke perfect English, and the third one had his hair pulled back into a ponytail and also had a mustache. They came in and greeted everyone. The one with the red turtleneck made his way around the room distributing kisses on the cheek, which is the Argentine custom. I surely didn’t mind when it was my turn to get my kiss from red turtleneck. The one with the pulled back hair sat across from Iris and I and began to play a bongo drum. I found out the one in the red turtle neck name was Nico, Probably short for Nicolas. Nico began to do flips to the bongo beat. Weed was passed around the room and it began to smell like cigarettes, herb, beer and wine. One of the British girls dressed in a blue pixie dress and bare foot stumbled into the room. When she went to sit down on the mattress next to the couch I was sitting on she toppled over. She asked me my name and what I was doing in Buenos Aires. I told her I was working on my film and traveling around.

“OOOOh my god that is sooooo cool we must hang out!!!”

Then she gave me a hi five. She whispered to me how she thought the guy in the red turtleneck was cute. I told her I was thinking the same thing too. She left the room and sauntered back in pass Nico. Then she sat down to talk to him. I thought to myself I really have to get my Spanish together so I can communicate with the guys I think are hot. One of the Argentine guys began talking to Iris. She asked him if he could bring his set of drums. He returned a few seconds later with mini drums. Iris began playing drums along with the other Argentine guy that was playing the Bongo. The British girl in the blue dress was still talking to Nico. I seen her become amazed by something he said and they disappeared. Another one of the British girls with bright red hair and a bright green dress squeezed in next to me on the couch. Nico and the blue dress girl returned seconds later. Nico had a little bag and a big instrument that looked like a sawed off tree branch. When the red head sitting next to me saw the big instrument she screamed

“Oh my god it’s a didley doo.”

Then one of the girls shut all the lights off in the living room. And sat a single lit candle on a mantle. Nico pulled medium sized balls out his little bag. They were glowing in the dark. The balls were a mix of neon green, white, blue and pink. Nico began to juggle with the balls as Iris and the other Argentine guy played their drums. I watched as the balls circled passed each other in the air. Then Nico took of his red turtleneck revealing a black wife beater tank and chiseled cut arms. He balanced the balls on his arms making them slide across. I was more interested in watching the muscles in his arms pulsate and as I did this I realized it has been a long time since I had sex. Ben the tall British guy I met earlier brought out pots and spoons for the British girls to play. Nico began to play the didley doo. As the room filled Iris and I moved into the kitchen to get more to drink. I met a few more cool people, but the party moved in the same direction and I began to get bored. Some people filtered out of the house party and moved on to clubs. Six of the British girls stayed behind. Some were in the kitchen dancing on the counter. I ended up on the balcony for an hour talking with an Australian guy about everything from relationships to traveling. As we looked over the balcony we noticed a sketchy guy sitting on the corner drinking a bottle of wine. When he finished the first he went and got another one and paced back and forth. Then another guy came about breaking glass bottles kicking garbage bags. He then found a pole and began to walk with it through the street. It was at that moment that I realized I was not walking out this building alone, especially now that it was 4am. As I was leaving with the Australian guy I stopped in the kitchen to say goodbye to some of the friends I met that night. An argentine guy was working on one of the British girls in the kitchen, and as we were about to leave the house we hear music coming from one of the other British girl’s rooms. A red hue glowed from the room. Two of the girls were in there and singing loudly while sitting on top of a guy who was laying in their bed with his hands behind his head. The Australian guy and I made our way outside and caught a Taxi to share home.