Knotty ticket purchase in a non-English speaking bus terminus

A prudent plan that almost turned wacky

Our South America cruise started in Los Angeles and ended in Rio de Janeiro.

Our port of call after we rounded the Cape of Good Hope was Beunos Aires. It was December 30th 2015. We were going to come back in about a month for a week long stay travelling overland from Rio de Janeiro to Buenos Aires via Sao Paulo and Iguazu. So Drink made this port of call a business trip. We would purchase our tickets from Sao Paolo to Iguazu right now.

Poof, and he's gone!

As we walked through the local terminus, Retiro station, close to the cruise port, and out into the city I lost Drink. From the corner of my eye i spied his disappearing form in an alley. This is Argentina and most of the businesses are closed during the celebratory period. There was hardly a soul on the streets. There was paper confetti every where.The confettii is shredded old documents from the previous year, clearing out the old to usher in the new year. That a very cautious person could be lured away at the blink of an eye was incredible. Stunned into inaction for a while I woke up to reality, and launched into action, as I am wont to do. I had to find him. The only thing to do was to follow him. Stepping into the alley, taking bold steps towards where I last sighted him, I found myself turning into another desolate alley, and there he was waving to me from a little shop. He was exchanging US $ fo Argentinan Pesos, not only to buy our tickets, but also because we would need the currency when we returned to Argentina. Here we are, in spite of having been warned about fake notes, accepting the change without even holding the notes up to the light to check for authenticity. We had to keep our fingers crossed till we got to use these notes.

We reached the inter City terminus without getting lost anywhere, but it was a different story within the complex. It was split level and the counters seemingly not grouped together acvording to destinations, we found ourselves trading up and down ramps and stairways until we found what we wanted. Then it was a matter of pointing , repeating the name of our departure point and destination, and then, after what seemed like ages, the stamping of our tickets. The lady at the counter checked our notes. We passed! 

Mission accomplished, we had time to saunter through the city, even checking out the place we were going to stay in when we returned.

Horror! We got ourselves into a mess.

We reached Rio de Janeiro  a few days later. Comfortably ensconced in our Airbnb, and also familiar with our vicinity Drink, on a hunch, took a look at the tickets we bought in Buenos Aires. To our consternation we  found that the ride would take us into Argentina, through Paraguay, beyond  the Brazilian side where we had booked our accomodation. We did not have a visa to enter Praguay while we were visa waivers for Argentina and Brazil. We went in search of the intercity bus terminus in Rio and to the ticket counter of the company who sold us our tickets. It was going to be very complicated for the bus did not have a scheduled stop at Iguazu, Brazil and they could not accommodate our request. They was no way they would refund or issue another in its place. That was a lot of communication in a mixture of modes -- sign language, spoken languge(English, Spanish), and facial expressions.

Mexican ( Spanish speaking) to the rescue

So we went back 'home'. Drink connected the lap top to the wi- fi and Skype called a cruise friend in Mexico City ( We had a cruise friend in Buenos Aires but she was out of reach). Drink explained to him our situation and gave him the contact number of the company from whom we had purchased the ticket. Within moments he called back with the good news that the company would issue us new tickets with our chosen destination. 

This time our walk to and from the terminus was jaunty.

Chile Peso Chicanery

We were in Valparaiso, Chile. It was our last day in the country before embarking on the next cruise that would take us across the Pacific Ocean to New Zealand and then circumnavigate Australia. 

The wanderlust prompted us to take a stroll in the suburbs whose houses along the slopes still showed signs of the devastation caused by earthquakes and landslides. After a strenous climb uphill we were glad to find ourselves in a public park with a bench partly occupied by a statue.

"If you don't climb the mountain, you’ll never enjoy the view.” (Pablo Neruda)

Looking up from the seat we saw a peculiarly shaped, glass fronted, multi-storey house  which seemed to attract many passers-by. Curious, we too went towards it. We found ouselves in landscaped gardens with shady trees and benches down the terraced slope, with a great view of the Pacific Ocean. The plaque indicated that it was La Serena, one of the homes of Pablo Neruda, a Nobel Laureate, originally built for his secret girlfriend.* Of course, I couldn't miss the opportunity to take a look into a bit of the extraordinaire's life. As usual, Drink encouraged me to visit the house ( now a museum) while he enjoyed the gardens. 

*We had discovered one of  Pablo's houses, Las Chascona, in Santiago, as we were exploring the huge market nearby. 

Caught unawares

We still had some Chilean Pesos. It would not be wise to convert them back to USD not only because of exchange rates but also the risk of being issued fake notes. Drink handed  me a 10,000 CLP which I blithely hand over to the lady at the counter for a 7,000 CLP entry ticket. The lady did not look up at me. She simply handed the note back to me, asking for the next person in the line. I waited till that customer and another had bought their tickets, thinking that they may have been there before me. I could have barged in. I tried again. This time she almost flung the note back, staring at me and emphatically saying "No!No!" as though chastising a recalcitrant child. Not knowing what was happening I tried desperately, using simple English and gestures, to find out why I had been turned down so vehemently. Lucky for me, another guest who had a smattering of English said "fake".

We had associated fake notes with Brazil and Argentina, but incredibly we had been too trusting in Chile. We were certainly wizened ( not that it would have made a great difference had we been more alert). That I thought was the deciding factor. I would simply enjoy the view from the garden but Drink had a little more Pesos to spare. We counted out the right amount and I marched back to the counter with some apprehension. The notes passed. With barely a glance at me, the issuer handed me the 'hard fought' piece of paper.

The house was well worth the hassle. It certainly had a very curious eccentric structure filled with the late poet's bohemian, and wacky collections of art and furniture. The view of the ocean from his study must surely have been conducive to the extraordinary perspectives in his prolific artistic output.

Our visit to another eccentric house in Vietnam will be the subject for another post.

Pay back time

As we left the premises Drink had a brilliant idea, as usual, and as usual, I carried out the plan. Our fake note was worth USD 10, no small amount for us. He suggested I buy something at the few souvenir shops just along the public park. So with the folded note in hand I examined the wares on display. Everything I liked and would find good use cost way more than what I had. I chose a ring the lady said would set me back 15,000 CLP. I said I couldn't afford it. had only 10,000. There were no other customers and she readily accepted my note after handing me my purchase. I didn't waste time wondering whether I could have bargained for less. The thing to do was to leave the area as soon as possible. Since it was down hill we made a fast exit. 

If Drink was expecting me to hand over the small change, he must have been dispspointed.

When I showed the ring to friends they thought the ring was made of Lapiz lazuli (a gem) and worth every penny I paid. To date that is the most expensive souvenir I've bought for if we do buy at all they would hardly cost more than a dollar.

Sagacity or deception

The after feeling was not of smugness but of fair-play --  a local vendor would surely know what to do with the fake note. 

The poet spells out the mood for us in his Ode to Thanks:

Thanks to the word that says thanks!

Thanks to thanks,

word

that melts

iron and snow!

The world is a threatening place

until

thanks

makes the rounds

from one pair of lips to another,

soft as a bright

feather

and sweet as a petal of sugar,

filling the mouth with its sound

or else a mumbled

whisper.