Searching for Santo

by Isabella Wimmer (Austria)

A leap into the unknown Argentina

If I were to tell my mom about this odyssey, she would quarantine me for the rest of my life, for sure. For some reason, though, writing about it on a public forum seems a little bit more discreet. So, let me dive right into the dangers of an underage teenage band travelling without adult supervision into the deep countryside of Argentina. I was 15 at the time and lived close to Buenos Aires for a year as an exchange student. The exchange organisation that sent me, introduced me to other exchange students from all over the world. Naturally, I made many friends who I wanted to see more often, and thus we quickly decided to travel to another exchange student’s host family in Santo for the weekend. At this point, I would like to mention that Santo is a little village about 3 hours west into the countryside from Buenos Aires. The distance in itself would not be a problem if it weren’t for the transport infrastructure in Argentina. Due to the economic crisis, previous presidents sold national companies, like the railways, to foreign countries. This meant that a bunch of First World privileged teens had to make their way to Santo through buses and, essentially, luck. The odyssey started by getting to the Buenos Aires bus station at first, and then a tram to the Bus Station in Buenos Aires, In the meantime, we obviously talked Spanish in our different accents, so we stood out as foreigners really quickly. In hindsight, this made me realise our susceptibility to pocket thieves. After all, we freely waved around our iPhones and brand clothing, which were difficult to get back then, due to economic sanctions. As somewhat of an Argentina travel expert, I would advise to just blend in, instead. Unlike in America and most of Europe, no one needs to see you flex your fake Gucci sneakers. Once we arrived at the station in Buenos Aires to take the direct bus, it turns out it was cancelled. A bit disheartened but not completely surprised, since we were warned this might happen, we looked for an alternative online. Luckily we quickly found one that went from a different bus station. After asking for directions and making our way there for the next hour, every single person that crossed our path conveniently forgot to mention that the station we were looking for had been out of service for the past 10 years. Not only did the internet, who was not our friend anymore, fail us but also every single Argentinian who probably got a good laugh at us light-haired, sunburnt, spoilt and privileged brats. Once again, I advice for your possible Western entitlement to to be contained when asking for directions, whilst complaining about the terrible state of the country’s infrastructure. Soft spot that one, trust me. At any rate, we were stranded and did not know how to proceed from there, especially since the sun was going down and Buenos Aires is not exactly known for its safety for lost teenagers. The only thing we could do was find shelter and thank God McDonald’s is international. When in need, go for nuggets. The familiar scent and taste will remind you of home and calm your senses. In no time, we found the inspirational solution to ask one of our adult host parents for advice. See, the key to getting around in Argentina is actual communication with the locals. Yes, I know it is hard to believe that Google and TripAdvisor don’t know everything and that we actually need to socialise. However, human contact apparently broadens our horizons and introduces us to the reality of the country visited, instead of other tourists’ “expert knowledge”. In the end, we found a way to Salta with three different buses, the third one not showing up at 4 am in the morning, at which point we just decided to take a taxi to our final destination. Our final destination being a club, not the house of our friend’s host parents. I told you my mom wouldn’t approve.