Overcoming family struggles in struggling Argentina
Apparently I’ve got a thing for powerhouse cities of the 19th Century.
The Australian gold rush made my former home of Melbourne, Australia the richest city in the world in 1880. It’s a beautiful city, full of grand old buildings and huge gardens.
Around the same time, my new home of Buenos Aires was also one of the richest cities in the world. Its wealth came from the pampas, Argentina’s fertile farmland that produced crops to be sent everywhere in the world, and from the immensely profitable port which they used to ship those crops.
Whereas Melbourne looked mainly to the motherland of England for inspiration for its buildings and victorian-style gardens, such a homogenous approach was too boring for the rich Argentines who were pumping money into Buenos Aires. It being a place originally founded by the Spanish and always under the influence of the other European countries, the inspiration which fuelled this prosperous time in Buenos Aires was pulled from all over Europe. You’ll find a statue in front of Argentine Parliament which was copied from the one found over the Brandenburg Gate in Berlin. Downtown BsAs features a Roman-style library with massive columns, and London-esqe Victorians too. Nowhere did they take more influence, however, than from Paris. In the eyes of the Argentines, Paris was the city of the day, a place that was both successful and sexy at the same time.
Smooth facades, gaudy ironwork, oversized front doors that take the arrival experience to a new level, and grand boulevards crisscrossing the city that ooze machismo — you’ll find these things all over Buenos Aires.
Finding this theme park of European architecture in the heart of South America and occupied by the equally eclectic mix of people who call themselves Porteños, and you’ve got a wonderfully charming city.
For all the beauty and charm, Buenos Aires and Argentina in general have some issues that they are dealing with. Early in 2018, the Argentine economy started to tumble, and some say that it is still falling and hasn’t yet reached the bottom. There were lots of ingredients to the recipe for crashing and what happened — a drought causing a bad harvest, rising inflation, the government cutting back on subsidies which effected the day-to-day lives of everyone — and it is a complicated beast. What I saw first and foremost in my planning for our trip was some wild stuff going on with the currency. In early 2018, one could get $14 Argentine Pesos for an Australian dollar, and by end of the year that number was $27. Fantastic for us, but absolutely brutal on the Argentines, which is evident in the estimate that over 30% were living in poverty by the end of 2018.
It didn’t take long after arrival in BsAs for the impacts of the economy to become real to us. On the taxi ride home from the airport, a conspicuous ‘click’ announced that the taxi driver was locking the doors for protection as we exited the motorway and entered the neighbourhood streets.
Not long after, we noticed people on the streets awkwardly wearing their backpacks on the front. They are called ‘backpacks’ for a reason, because they are on your back out of sight and out of mind. However necessity in BsAs has people wearing them on the front, to protect against some sleaze poking around in your bag when you are not looking. This happened to Henry one day when we were riding the bus, however he noticed what was happening before it was too late. He turned to face the guy, stoic look on his face, for the rest of the ride. My son foiling a thief, that was a proud moment for me as a father. I think this also qualifies as homeschooling, though I haven’t decided yet whether to note it under Humanities and Social Sciences for showing practical knowledge of the social and economic realities of riding the bus in Buenos Aires, or under Languages Other Than English for showing an understanding of the international language of the streets.
We’ve seen protests in the street, which our landlord Monica told us are scheduled to take place at different locations all over the city every Friday night, in case we wanted to check them out. To date we’ve passed on attending as a social event. Argentines aren’t opposed to letting their opinion be known, which leads to things like this, which I passed one morning while running:
I certainly felt for the poor guy who was assigned the task that morning of cleaning up the bits of burned bus, armed with only a broom. Where do you start?
The money situation is bizarre because of the currency valuation challenges. This presents issues for us temporary types who are here long enough to need access to money a lot, but not long enough to have a local bank account. We’re unfortunately slaves to the ATM machines, and they’re a squirrelly bunch. Half the time they don’t work at all, either having run out of money or just not liking our cards. Sometimes they’re not accessible at all, locked in the lobby of a bank. One day I spent an hour walking between three different banks all located within 100 metres of each other, desperately needing to take cash out to pay someone. Each was inexplicably locked up, with people standing around outside as confused as I was.
When the machines do work, you’re only getting a couple bucks out. Most days, I’m only able to extract a maximum of $2,000 Argentine Pesos, which is about $75 Aussie / $50 US and this comes with a fee of around $13 Aussie / $9 US. This sort of fee would be an absolute disaster considering we use the ATM every couple of days, however luckily our bank reimburses us for the fees.
Our challenges aside, it’s a more serious issue for locals, whom I’ve seen queued up for half a block just to get in the bank.
Maybe being in this place that’s working through issues trying to keep itself together is perfect for us, going through issues of our own adjusting to our new life.
Having only just arrived in BsAs for a two month stay, our two boys unhappy, restless, and our planning being called into question, Katie and I knew we needed to change things up quickly else we faced all out mutiny (I wrote about our initial challenges here).
We started by letting off the throttle, limiting outings to one per day, and quickly introducing ones that were purely for pleasure and had nothing to do with finding the closest and most affordable butcher in the neighbourhood. We started with a place called the Museo Participativo de Ciences, the Participatory Science Museum, where the motto is Prohibido No Tocar (Forbidden NOT to Touch). It’s a great museum with all sorts of different hands on science related exhibits, like those using electricity to burn through a little copper wire or lifting weights with pulleys. Even with everything in Spanish, it is still excellent. One exhibit created a tornado in a giant glass tube upon the press of a button. As he watched the spinning funnel, I overheard Oscar saying, ‘Tornado! Dorothy will die!’, which to me says we accomplished the most important thing, that the boys were starting to have fun.
We spent another afternoon playing baseball at a huge local park called the Bosque de Palermo. My Spanish teacher told me that this immediately would have outed us as Yankis, which basically means we’re a bunch of white folks not from around here, but we didn’t care. It felt good to be out in an afternoon with all the rest of the Porteño families, acting like a family.
Sprinkled in all this at opportune moments we made sure to judiciously sample local empanadas everywhere we went. Empanadas are the beautiful pastry pockets containing a myriad of fillings like carne (seasoned beef), jamón con queso (ham and cheese), or even blue cheese and spinach. They’re cheap and perfect snacks. Empanadas are never far away in BsAs — there’s seemingly a shop on every corner — and neither is helado (ice cream). Enough snacks and treats will help to triumph over many evils. I could say that all of it was undertaken purely in the name of boosting the boys’ morale, however that’d be a lie.
Around the same time, our two weeks of Spanish classes at Vamos Spanish Academy had started. We had signed up for these in order to get Katie and the boys a crash course so they weren’t completely in the dark as to what was going on around them, and to give me a refresher so I was only sort of in the dark. The classes definitely did that, however they came with an unanticipated side benefit. Because we were in separate classes, they gave us some much needed time apart and a chance to cool off. There’s little better to take your mind off a stupid argument or how angry you are with each other than by immersing yourself in a confusing language that you don’t understand.
We continued to crisscross Palermo and expanded to the rest of the city as well, though were more relaxed than in our first weeks. Taking things slower, we looked in the window of artisanal donut shops and those selling trucker hats. We learned to dodge the dog poop on the streets like locals, and to not mind getting dripped on by the ever running air conditioners which seem to be purposely positioned spit water on to passersby on the footpath below. The complaints and grumbling and fighting between us and the boys never disappeared completely, however did subside as an understanding of the new normal developed. At Oscar’s request, the walks were accompanied by plenty of hand holding, though not only with him but with Henry as well. Katie and I were only too happy to oblige.
A week or so had passed since my last bedtime conversation with the boys, and Oscar stopped me for a chat. Previously he had flatly told me that he had no interest in being in South America for four months. This time, his demeanour had changed.
“You know,” he said thoughtfully. “Argentina’s not that bad. And even if it is, it’s only two months, and that’ll be over before we know it.” This made me smile. Oscar, ever sensible, had come around to the reality that if things aren’t going your way, they can change in an instant.
Henry, however, was not going to join the team completely without a fight.
It struck Katie and I that transitioning all of us into a new lifestyle was hard enough in normal cases, however Henry is a special case. He’s at this awkward pre-puberty stage that complicates things greatly. On one hand he’s more than happy to hold your hand while walking down the street. On the other hand, when the hormones are raging, he’s more than happy to refuse anything you have to say flatly to your face and argue the point until the dogs next door start barking. His oversized feet are constantly stepping on everyone else's. We try to emphasise the importance of being respectful in public, not only as simple common courtesy but to avoid drawing attention to the Yankis, however Henry seems to have lost control the volume level of his voice as it is always coming out as if he’s wearing headphones and listening to something loud.
Maybe this is normal, however we’ve got nil experience with such things and we’re feeling like we may have thrown gasoline on the fire by pulling us out of normal life and routines and into a different existence halfway around the world.
He wants some independence, and doesn’t want to be told we’re going out today and he’s going along (whether he likes it or not). However we can’t leave him completely to his own devices in this new and strange place that we have not quite figured out yet.
How to deal with a pre-teen who’s also an uncomfortable fish out of water, is frustrated with not understanding the local language, and is missing his friends from back home? Katie and I have pondered this situation over much red wine, however no real solutions have presented themselves. Suggestions are welcome. Until then, it’s going to be a work in progress and we’ll continue to be encouraged by the good moments, like his new evening habit of asking everyone whether or not they’ve had a good day. Or like this one, sitting on our stoop on a warm summer evening.
Everything seems to be a work in progress: us, Henry, BsAs, Argentina. We’ll all get it figured out eventually. If not, it’s only a couple of months which will be over before we know it, right?
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