Argentinians are actually hobbits

and other hot takes on the home of Peronism

I’ve officially been in Argentina for more than a month, which means two things: 

1. I should probably start thinking about what comes after Argentina sometime soon

2. I’ve amassed a sizeable enough collection of experiences in the country to share a bit of general information about this wonderful place

Here are my musings:

• I’ve never been to a country where Seattle is as recognizable as New York or Los Angeles, but I’m a full-blown celebrity in Argentina simply because I hail from the Emerald City. Why is that? Thanks to Netflix, Grey’s Anatomy is all the rage here. (Globalization at its finest. Or perhaps its worst?)

  • One woman actually gave me a hug when she found out that I was from Seattle — I think she was pretending that I was Patrick Dempsey while she wrapped her arms around me.

• I’ve never experienced an inflationary environment before, and let me tell you: it’s wild. Inflation here has averaged around 50% for the past three years. In an attempt to protect foreign currency reserves, the government has an “official” exchange rate for the Argentinian Peso with the dollar/euro/pound/etc., but the “real” value of the Peso (called the Blue Dollar) is less than half of the governmental rate.

  • As a result, you don’t take money out of ATMs — you either bring American dollars and exchange them here or, if you are like me and you didn’t plan ahead, you send yourself money using the Blue Dollar rate through Western Union and walk away trying to hide piles of cash like this:

US$250 worth of Pesos; at one point I was carrying four times as many bills

• It’s sad, but young people have essentially zero hope for their country, all due to its economy. I have met one — that’s right, only one — young Argentinian who does not dream of living in a different country (typically Italy or Spain). They love Argentina’s culture, cities, and diverse landscapes, but they see no path to a stable economic future here, so they want to be paid in a stable currency (but it is exceedingly difficult to acquire the necessary visas abroad).

• When you’re traveling, there are a few questions that you get very used to answering: “Where are you from? Where have you been? Where are you going? How long are you traveling for?” With Argentinians, I’ve had to get used to a new addition to the list: “How old are you?” For some reason, they are really curious about people’s ages. The order of conversation is always: “Where are you from? Oh my god, I love Grey’s Anatomy! How old are you?”

  • When people ask me this question, I like to turn it on them and ask them how old they think I am — guesses normally range between 30-35 (I’m only 24). At what age does being perceived as older transition from a compliment to a curse?

    

    How old do you think I look?

• Argentina’s daily schedule takes some adjusting to. Breakfast and lunch are at fairly “normal” times, but then happy hours run until 9pm because hardly anyone drinks until then, dinner before 10pm is considered early, and even sunrise doesn’t signal the end of a night out dancing. I’ve personally been mystified as to how people don’t starve before dinner, but a friend recently let me in on their secret: Argentinians are actually hobbits. They have a second lunch called merienda late in the afternoon that tides them over until 10pm. Samwise Gamgee would love it here.

• No matter what time of day it is, one thing is certain: you can find Argentinians drinking maté, a particular type of herbal tea. The culture of maté is inherently social — a group of friends gather and pass it around until their large thermos runs out of hot water. There is even a specific type of bag, called a matera, that people carry with them all day so that they have their maté materials at the ready should an opportunity arise. I’ve met some awesome people through maté, I really love it.

  

  Lu and Marilina (Argentina) enjoy some maté while waiting for a bus

• Nearly all of Argentina’s cities use the same public transit card, Sube, which is SO convenient. I would love it if other countries learned from this wonderful example of efficiency.

• I find the romantic lives of young Argentinians to be very interesting. Generally speaking, young people are not looking to get serious with anyone anytime soon — if at all. A few people are in relationships, but largely my conversations have revealed an organized ecosystem of chongos (“hook-ups” is close) and chongos fijos (“consistent hook-ups that you wouldn’t introduce to your parents” is the best translation I have). Occasionally you later decide that you want to introduce your chongo fijo to your parents after all, but it seems uncommon. It’s fascinating.

• In the United States, we celebrate our 18th birthday by buying a lottery ticket and possibly purchasing Nyquil. You know, just because you can. I’m beginning to suspect that they have a different cultural tradition in Argentina. I think that when the clock strikes midnight on your 18th birthday, you head straight to the tattoo parlor (and then you return anew on every birthday thereafter). I am hardly hyperbolizing when I say that every Argentinian aged 18-30 has a tattoo. Most people seem to have multiple. Maybe my lack of tattoos is why everyone here thinks I’m in my thirties.

Where have you been recently?

I’ve been slowly but surely making my way south since I last wrote. First, I was in the province of Salta, where I thoroughly enjoyed a weekend of winery wandering in Cafayate, the highest elevation vineyards in the world (that’s what they claim, at least). The area is beautiful, a mix of California’s Sonoma Valley and the American Southwest. The region is particularly known for the Torrontés, a unique white wine only grown in Argentina.

One of the many bodegas I visited in Cafayate

I really needed the wine, too, because on my last night in Salta’s capital (before going to Cafayate), I accidentally slept through a night out where I was supposed to meet up with a few Argentinian friends. In the morning, I woke up to a text from a beautiful girl in the group that I definitely had a crush on. It read: “Quería darte un beso.”

Of all the nights to sleep through…

From Salta, I headed to Tucumán to visit some friends. The big highlight was reconnecting with Priscila, a foreign exchange student at my high school during my senior year. We weren’t particularly close while we were both in Tillamook, but she welcomed me into her world so wonderfully for my brief visit in Tucumán, introducing me to her friends and many of the city’s highlights. I am extremely thankful for her and her family’s hospitality.

Priscila (Argentina) and I smile before saying goodbye

I was moving quickly through Salta and Tucumán to reach Mendoza, where I reconnected with Malte and Hannah, the German couple that I met in Buenos Aires and then ran into again in Córdoba. Mendoza is another famous wine region, known especially for its Malbec. 

Hannah and Malte (Germany) enjoy some wine in Mendoza

The highlight of my time in Mendoza wasn’t wine, though. It only takes a four hour bus to reach Aconcagua, the tallest mountain outside of Asia (at 22,837 feet), so I hiked to the mountain’s first base camp. I really love staring at pretty mountains and, man, Aconcagua was pretty.

Isn’t she beautiful?

From Mendoza, we took a long bus to Bariloche last weekend, marking my official entrance to Patagonia. The region exceeds all expectations, and I’m only in its northernmost reaches. I’ll wax poetic about it more in a future note, but here are a couple “normal” views from Bariloche:

A random view from the middle of a hike

The view from my hostel’s balcony at sunset

What’s on your mind, Sean?

I was very excited to have some English-speaking companionship again, but after a little less than two weeks with Hannah and Malte, I’m ready to strike off on my own again.

There are surely benefits to traveling with others — you have someone to talk to that understands what you are experiencing, some activities become cheaper, and your card game selection isn’t limited to Solitaire — but there are downsides as well, and unfortunately I’ve found that the three of us aren’t travel partners made in heaven.

We’re all traveling, but we’re on different trips. The two of them are traveling while studying and even working a little, whereas every day is a blank page for me; their budget is notably lower than mine; my abilities and interest in physical activities are not shared. We’re just not a match, and it makes moving together more of a burden than a benefit.

Additionally, I have come to learn that I really value people who spend time and energy focusing on the positive aspects of a person or place rather than the negative. This is not a sudden revelation, but rather a conviction that has grown stronger with time.

As an example of what I mean, the last time I was in Istanbul, I got scammed by a young man “from Cyprus” who came up to me in the street asking for directions. I later learned that solo white men visiting the city are commonly targeted by this crafty scheme, but I didn’t know that at the time, so I ended up spending the rest of the evening having a bizarre conversation with a Russian woman, being escorted to an ATM by a bar owner’s “friend” to pay an absurdly overpriced bill, running away from said “friend” so I didn’t have to visit an ATM with him, hiding in a shawarma shop to avoid some young guys who also seemed like they were “from Cyprus”, and, finally, arriving safely to my bed.

For some people, an experience like I had that night would ruin their perception of not just Istanbul, but the entirety of Turkey (or perhaps their whole trip). For me, it was just a bad night (now a good story). Istanbul was my favorite city in the world before that evening, and it’s still my favorite city in the world now.

At my goodbye party in Seattle, my friends had the truly fantastic idea of having people write notes on the faces of a deck of playing cards so that I have a taste of home readily available to me, no matter where in the world I may be. One of my favorite notes was written by my friend Lindsey. It simply reads, “Believe in the kindness of strangers.”

Some of the autographed cards from my new favorite deck

I truly do believe in the kindness of strangers, and I really value that trait in others, too. Various aspects of one’s identity — gender, race, sexuality, etc. — may change what that openness looks like on an individual basis, but no matter what that openness needs to look like for you, I firmly believe that the world is a lot more beautiful when you’re open to whatever — or whoever — may be around the next corner.

I’ll even believe in the kindness of the next stranger who asks me for directions in Istanbul. But this time, I think I’ll pick the place where we grab a drink.

Where are you headed next?

South!

I’ll be spending Christmas deeper in Patagonia and staying there through the New Year. I’m very excited to experience more of Argentina’s famed peaks and Perito Moreno, a glacier that looks out of this world.

What I’m reading and listening to

What I’ve read since I last wrote: The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V.E. Schwab (Thanks again Emma!), Klara and the Sun by Kazuo Ishiguro, and Barbarian Days by William Finnegan (Thanks Ashley, I really enjoyed this one and learned a lot!)

What I’m reading right now: Trust Exercise by Susan Choi (Thanks Caroline — I am just starting it, excited to meet this big twist!!)

Song from the shared Spotify playlist that I’ve been thinking about: “St. Elmos Fire (Man in Motion)” by John Parr (Two notes straight that Allie’s song gets a shoutout (this coming right after I had dissed her music taste in a text, whoops). This song came on while I was hiking at Aconcagua and I just felt so content and exuberant and full of life while it was on.)

Want to contribute to my bookshelf or shared playlist? It’s not too late! Here are the links:

• Spotify (it’s not letting me put a link so hopefully this embedded box works):

• Bookshelf: https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1HkLwGTZVGe_uWcxAWqdS0qy185QDi82RTobO1KyWx50/edit?usp=sharing