Hoppers, Thieves & the Bugling Moose
Bariloche Part III Expect the Unexpected
Now that I have taken you on a side trip to ride a camel in the Arabian Desert, and on a hike up Whitefish Mountain in Northern Montana, it’s time to return to Bariloche, Argentina. Recall from previous postings, I went to Bariloche to participate in a Spanish immersion program. My internal compass was completely discombobulated and turned upside down in the Southern Hemisphere and I was convinced the sun rose in the West and set in the East. Mi Esposo was about to join me for a vacation.
I bid hasta luego to my Bariloche host family and moved out of the apartment building with the ancient rickety elevator that lost its Whirrrrrr to a modern hotel with all the amenities. I admit, I was happy as a lark to talk to someone in English again.
If perchance, this is all gobbledygook to you, I recommend you read Bariloche Part I & II and it will all make sense.
Cash is king in Argentina. Many merchants absolutely refuse to accept credit cards and those who do accept them, usually tack hefty service charges onto the bottom line.
Caveat emptor (buyer beware). Swipe that little plastic card and you will pay heavily out of the ying-yang.
Take heed. Before you cut your credit card up to become a cash-only devotee, know that you will need stamina, perseverance, and nerves of steel in your pursuit of an ATM machine that has NOT run out of money.
ATM hopping is a daily athletic event in Central Bariloche.
Be prepared to dash from one remotely situated ATM to another, in frenzied competition with every other person in town desperate to withdraw the coveted maximum daily allotment of 25,000 Argentine Pesos, equivalent to 100 US Dollars. (Note: $ represents pesos in Argentina, and U$S represents US dollars). It’s a dog-eat-dog, cutthroat race. Survival of the fittest.
The problem is that EVERYONE needs cash to pay for EVERYTHING and cash is SCARCE. As a final howdy-doody, the bank chomps you in the butt with an 11% ATM fee.
Congratulations, ATM hopper! In honor of your stupendous perseverance and stamina, after sprinting four miles between three ATM machines, you are hereby rewarded a whopping 89U$S for your efforts. Keep up the great work. And thank you for your patronage, we love taking our cut of your dough. Hop by tomorrow and we’ll squeeze another eleven bucks outta you.
Not to worry, if you don’t do anything, you don’t eat anything, and you sleep curled up to the stray dogs on the street, you might be able to make the pesos last a day, maybe two.
Mi Esposo and I were loaded, fat cats compared to most. Between the two of us, we could stuff our pockets with $44,500 (178 U$S) to pay for our hotel, car rental, gasoline, meals, and everything else. That tidy sum couldn’t put a dent in the hotel bill, let alone anything else. Yup, we were strong-armed into paying out of wazoo for swiping the plastic. ATM hopping was the numero uno item on the agenda every day.
One evening while strolling along Calle Mitre, the main drag in Bariloche, we happened upon a Banco Nacion that had an ATM lobby with several terminals loaded to bear. The most skilled ATM hoppers had already sniffed out the scent of fresh dispensing pesos. The lobby was quickly filling up, so we hopped in there with the best of them, all too eager to get in there while the good times lasted.
Mi Esposo and I activated Operation Hopper.
He joined a line behind a terminal on one side of the lobby, I joined a line behind a terminal on the opposite side.
Hoppers continued to hit jackpots at the terminals retrieving loot, while the rest of us stood nervously behind them, hoping and praying the dinero would hang in there for at least one more transaction. More hoppers squeezed into the ATM lobby and the all-too-familiar hopper lineup started to queue outside the bank, stretching along Calle Mitre.
Mi Esposo and I both stepped up to our respective terminals at the same time – he on his side of the lobby, me on mine. I entered my PIN and answered the sequence of questions on the screen, including the one where I authorized the bank to gobble up another $11. As if I had a choice?
With adrenaline surging, like I was playing a slot machine, rather than using a bank terminal, I pressed “Introducir transacción” (enter transaction). “Come on, ATM you can do it! Come on, terminal! 22,500 pesos, por favor”
The terminal hummed and hawed, the screen flickered, then a message popped up, “La màquina se ha quedado sin efectivo.” No way! Outta cash. I’ll enter it again. Something must have gone wrong with the transaction.
Hold on! What is that noise? Is that… Mi Esposo making all that racket?
LOIS!!! LOIS!!! I’M TAKING OUT $25,000. HOW MUCH ARE YOU GETTING??!!
Mi Esposo was bellering from across the lobby, I assumed to make sure I could hear him above the crowd of hoppers congregated around the terminals. Oh yes, we ALL heard him. And he was roaring out an announcement of how much money he was getting.
I don’t know him. I’ve never met him in my life.
What a way to target himself to be robbed as soon as he left the bank. Violent crime was not a problem in Bariloche, but pickpockets were a dime a dozen. Did Mi Esposo REALLY think I was going to answer him? Did he think I had granite rocks for brains?
My nose stayed resolutely pointed at my own screen and the task of trying to coax pesos from a terminal that had peso poop out and was preparing to go comatose for another 24 hours.
LOIS!!! I SAID I GOT $25,000!! HOW MUCH ARE YOU GETTING??!!
I don’t know him. I’ve never met him in my life.
Understand there was absolutely no reason for anyone to associate me with the LOUD American on the opposite side of the crowded lobby.
My immersion experience conveniently came in handy. Having lived in Bariloche for the previous month, I pulled a chameleon act and blended right in with the Argentines.
Mi Esposo was no novice when it came to international travel, evidently, he just forgot to pack his Common Sense for this South American trip.
What could I say? I forgot to pack my 220v hair blower, so I completely understood how easy it is to travel internationally and forget a critical item at home.
Sooner or later, even the most experienced traveler forgets something. Can you honestly say you’ve never gone on a trip and forgot an essential item at home?
LOIS!!! I SAID I GOT $25,000. HOW MUCH ARE YOU GETTING???!!
I don’t know him. I’ve never met him in my life.
Oh my goodness, the guy sounded like a bugling moose! What does a bugling moose sound like? Well, just to make sure you and I are on the same page, I’m attaching a one-minute video clip. (Listen for at least 30 seconds to get the best part)
Hey you! Yes, you… you know who you are. If you didn’t listen to the moose, go back and listen to him. Only then will you truly appreciate the severity of the predicament Mi Esposo put me in.
Finally, he puffed and stomped out of the lobby. When the coast was clear and Mi Esposo the bugler was long-gone, I stepped away from my terminal so the next hopper could step up to give it his best shot. With the shrewdness of an inside trader, I eased my way over to the line behind Mi Esposo’s former terminal. After all, the last I heard, it had cash.
In minutes I was in front of the screen begging the device for my daily bread.
Please give me my daily allotment of peso bread and I will allow you to gouge me for 2,500 pesos (11 U$S) because… because… well, just because I need some peso bread and you’re my only source. So, I’ll just press the “continuar” key nicely.
And…It worked! 22,500 pesos started flipping rapidly out of the terminal’s dispensary. I discretely gathered the stash and disappeared into the crowd.
With my internal radar on “high alert” taking in my entire surroundings, I walked straight ahead, deliberately making sure I didn’t turn my head one way or the other and blow my cover. (This was an incognito safety maneuver I picked up from an amigo who took me to the jewelry sales district of Mexico City… stuff for another posting at another time.) I had no intention of walking right into the middle of Mi Esposo and a thug scuffling for control over his wallet. After all, I remembered to pack my common sense right along with my passport and my credit cards.
Yup, there he was. I caught a glimpse of Mi Esposo out of the far corner of my eye. He turned left and was walking along Calle Mitre. So, I turned right and walked in the opposite direction along Calle Mitre.
I took my sweet time window shopping, drooling over the chocolate creations and eyeballing the tourist trinkets displayed in the storefront windows as I gave the local thieves and Mi Esposo time to settle the matter about his wallet. Eventually, he caught up to me.
Miraculously his wallet was completely intact.
Was it guardian angels? Sheer luck? Divine intervention? A miracle of God? Were all the pickpockets on a coffee break? Had the thugs taken pity on him? Or all of the above? Who knows? All I know is I know it was a wonder he still had possession of his wallet.
I’ve included this photo of Mi Esposo so you can see for yourself he looks like a regular guy. Note his glasses aren’t perched on his face all wonky and his shirt and sweater aren’t on backward or anything quacky like that. I tell you, the guy just left his common sense in Texas on that particular trip.
Hello FedEx. Do you ship internationally overnight to Argentina? Oh, you do. Great! I’d like to arrange to have Mi Esposo’s Common Sense shipped to him. ___ __ Your Premium Service sounds perfect. ______What kind of packaging? What are my options? ___ ___ Package or envelope. I think I’d better go with a package in case an envelope is too small. ___ ___? Oh no. I don’t think his Common Sense weighs more than 150 lbs. I don’t really know. How is Common Sense usually weighed? ___ ____. You don’t know either? Well, let’s go with the Premium International Package under 150 pounds. ___ ___? Special care? Absolutely. It is very important Mi Esposo’s Common Sense doesn’t get lost in transit, sent to the wrong destination, or worse yet, get dead-ended. ___ ___ Dry ice, Gel pack, or Wet ice? Oh, THAT kind of Special Care. ___ ___ ___. Pardon me? Prohibited item? Against FedEx policy to ship Common Sense? ___ ___ ____. Not enough demand and too high risk, you don’t say? ___ ____ Yes, that makes complete common sense to me. Thank you for your time and help.
Two days later his wallet was stolen.
Yup, I know how totally shocked you must be by this information. It threw Mi Esposo for a bit of a loop-dee-loop as well. Hard to believe such a thing could happen. The dastardly thief lifted his credit cards, driver’s license, ID, money, and all. The whole nine yards. Gone without a trace!
Mi Esposo got first-hand experience at canceling everything in his wallet from an international destination - a task that required nerves of steel, the patience of Job, the ability to cut through volumes of Spanish red tape, and a large dose of perseverance. It took several hours, but he accomplished the task. Nary a card in his wallet remained valid, not even his Driver’s license.
The telephone in our hotel rang. It was a call for Mi Esposo from a local fly-fishing shop that he had visited a couple of days prior. Someone found his wallet lying on the street. There was a receipt from the fly-fishing shop in it so that’s where they took the wallet. The shop had Mi Esposo’s contact information because he had booked a day of fly fishing with them.
Remember I mentioned cash is king in Argentina?
The thief filched the cash and returned Mi Esposo’s credit cards, driver’s license, and ID in the wallet. Apparently, this is a common practice for pickpockets in Bariloche.
Petty crime conducted with a code of honor - how nice.
Too bad Mi Esposo had already canceled everything in his wallet before it was returned to him.
Well, my faithful readers, stay tuned for more adventures in Bariloche.
If you enjoy reading my substack I would appreciate it if you share it with others. Your comments and suggestions are always welcome.
Until next time.
I’m glad I went back and listened to the moose.
So an 11% ATM fee is less than the credit card fees? Wow!