Money’s Worth
January 30th in Buenos Aires
As with most places one travels to, Buenos Aires has banks and money exchange facilities throughout the city. UNLIKE most other places, most civilized placed, BA also has a secondary marketplace to change American dollars to Argie pesos — the black-market. It’s basically the SO AM wild west. Steaks. Cowboys. And “dealings”.
These hole-in-the-wall-un-signed establishments are called “dollar blues” and are not for the faint of heart. They are not recommended for women, especially traveling solo — especially a gringa to visit.
You know what’s coming next. Per the earlier update, we know I was feeling ballsy. AND, the rate of money was a notable difference. Instead of market value of 8P for $1US, the black-market value was 12P for $1US. I had already cut myself out of dress today. Let’s do this.
I started off by using an interesting mix of Italian and French to ask around for a dollar blue. Most people ignored me. A few were clearly alarmed by me. But one, that’s all I needed, took to me. It was a 60 year old man named Massimo. In general, they start off by saying they don’t know what you’re talking about. In my case, they probably didn’t. But in real life, they are being coy to see if you are the fuzz. I clearly wasn’t. Massimo was … let’s call it intrigued, by me. And, he was likely taken off-guard by my larger-than-life pillowy demeanor and acquiesced.
He took my hand and ran with me. RAN. I don’t know why running was a part of the ordeal. But run we did. Hand in hand. Now I’ve not moved off my sofa in 6 months. Standing upright has been an effort. Walking a feat. But running, I died. We ran 6 blocks. I peed a little a block 4.
We FINALLY stopped at a touristic pop-up cheap clothing store and around to the back. At this point, one should start to hear the beginning of ominous music as in “…and this is how she is going to die”. But I could’t hear a thing over my heart beating in my ears. And what I AM SURE is the sound a balloon makes as it’s slowing deflating from a small pin hole.
In “the back”, there are fluorescent lights flickering and the smell of fruit-scented car deodorizers. You’re average person, around now, would have thought “Fuck it. 8P is fine. I’m out.” But this world savvy traveler… No way. I’d come this far. Me and Massimo. Although he had dropped my hand like a hot tamale at this point. I’m going to get those 12P for my damn dollar. I had to pee again. But I didn’t want to seem weak or needy or … human so I calmly walked over to “the guy in the back”.
He asked for my US money. I insisted I see his Pesos first. (Good, huh?!) I held each of his pesos up to the light. FOR NO REASON. I had NO IDEA what sort of water mark to look for but I wasn’t going to blow my own cover at this point. I pocketed his money and gave him my US.
As I turned to leave, I fainted. And peed.
I came to with a bunch of sweet Argies saying “eeez ok. eeez ok. aqua. aqua. oh peeeez. peeeez stop ki’ing. no no ki’ing” (read: kicking)
But damned if I didn’t get my money’s worth.
