1 December 1997 - Buenos Aires, Argentina
We're back into travel mode! We arrived in Buenos Aires on Sunday after
an uneventful flight. Monday morning, we took a taxi to the airport cargo
area, and started the proceedings to retrieve the bike. First part with
SAA Cargo was easy, then we took our documents to the customs office marked
Particulares, which was quite up to date and computerized.
But, here we hit a potentially major snag. The folks in that office
had not encountered a Carnet de Passage before, and after several consultations
with someone in another office, the official kept insisting we had to
find an Argentine citizen to guarantee the bike. No, we explained, we're
tourists here, we don't know any Argentines that well. And, see, we have
a carnet to guarantee we won't sell the bike. Luckily the Canadian Auto
Association had provided us with a letter in Spanish to the Ecuador government
which stated this explicitly, as the carnet itself is only in English
and French. So, we gave them a copy of that letter (hoping they wouldn't
notice it didn't say Argentina), then I very politely explained how the
carnet was supposed to work, which stamps went where, etc., and the light
dawned for them. Whew! By the time we were all done, they were experts
on carnets, so we've blazed a path for the next poor buggers who come
in with a vehicle.
After that, things moved along according to a routine which we're very
familiar with now. As usual, lots of interested bystanders as we uncrated
the bike, questions about how long we've been traveling, and advice on
where to go in Argentina. By the time we got everything rearranged for
riding out and got to the exit gate, the customs official there said "Ah,
si, la moto", like this motorcycle was now very well known to them
all! The entire process took about 3 hours, which is par for a combination
customs/border + air cargo retrieval. Do I sound blasé about this
now? At least this time I could be of use chasing the paperwork trail
in Spanish, as nobody minded dealing with a woman, not like in north Africa!
After Africa, it also feels so nice not to be always aware of your skin
color and feeling guilty about being born white and privileged.
Unfortunately, we only spent a couple of days in Buenos Aires, mainly
because our hotel stay couldn't be extended - they informed us that it
is now high season and they were full up. From what we did see it reminded
us of Barcelona, lots of nice old buildings and
some very wide streets, plus many statues and monuments. The people seem
quite friendly, more so than Spain, which was a bit of a surprise to me.
Even the customs officials were very helpful, (once they got over the
embarrassment of not being familiar with the carnet), suggesting places
to visit and hoping we enjoyed Argentina.
2 December 1997 - Azul, Argentina
We left Buenos Aires late on Tuesday, drove inland on Ruta 3 about 300
km, a fairly boring run of flat fields and straight roads. Although it
was hot and sunny leaving B.A., it cooled off quickly and we ran into
our first rainstorm since Tunisia back in
March (bummer!). After putting on our rain gear, we drove about an hour
through it. Around 5:00 p.m., we stopped for the night in Azul, a town
of about 40,000 which is not much of a tourist place. We stayed in a hotel
in the centre of town and parked the bike in front on the sidewalk. After
having an early supper (by Argentine standards), we went to bed.
Around 11:30 p.m., the phone rang. All in Spanish, a man's voice apologized
for waking us, went on to say "you understand Spanish, right?",
then said something about "blue motorcycles", to which I responded
sleepily "Tenemos una motocicleta blanca" (we have a WHITE motorcycle).
When we met them the next morning (the club President and Secretary came
by the hotel while we were having breakfast), they turned out to be G.A.M.A.,
the Grupo de Amigos de Motos de Azul (literally the Group of Friends of
Motorcycles of Azul), Azul being the name of the town as well as the Spanish
word for the color blue!

Grupo de Amigos de Motocicletas de Azul
Anyway, they were very disappointed they hadn't found us the evening
before (we weren't too disappointed, as who knows what time we'd have
gotten to bed if they had found us), but invited us to come to a cafe
where the secretary, Roberto worked, a few blocks away, so we could meet
other members of this club.
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