25. Schnorbitz

Wednesday, 16 January 2019

Bariloche, Argentina

Quite cold this morning as I drive into Bariloche. Fond farewell to the trusty Toyota Hilux. Grown quite attached to it the past 2,700km. Shall miss its tank like engine rumbling reliably away.

Pull into the tiny Hertz compound on Elflein Street, It’s full of shiny new saloons. An old bloke is coiling a hosepipe as I draw up towards him. He gives me that look that says you’re in the wrong place mate. My splattered and butterfly encrusted Hilux is not meant to be near his shiny cars that he’s just washed. I’m lowering the tone. He looks like Max Mosely’s Argentinian cousin (Max Mosely being former FIA Motorsports chief and Oswald’s son)

Spouts off in Spanish. British. I say. Spanish some more. Jump out of Hilux. Its white front bumper is completely splattered with the dead bodies of hundreds of insects. The inside of the left front wheel is worn. There’s a tracking issue. Its steering wheel shook at 60-70mph. Follow old man up to the front office above. Busy with tourists booking in. Young girl says to wait whilst old man checks car out. Eventually he returns. He’s marked up the damage exactly as it was when I picked it up. Three chips on windscreen. One bit of bodywork missing. Don’t have the signed damage form from when I picked it up. Waiting for extras to be charged. She must have it on her system though? Finally. A print out. On the old fashioned dot matrix printer with paper with holes down the side so the cogs can move it forward. Which you then have to tear off. Remember that? Millennials reading this will be going like so what’s that. Balance is zero. Jolly good. No arguments then.

Post office next call. Have eleven postcards to send that have been gathering fluff in the rucksack since Bellinghausen in Antartica plus others from Ushuaia, El Calafate and Bariloche.

Needless to say. There’s a queue of about six. Counters 2, 4 and 6. 2 seems to be a dedicated counter for something I can’t work out. 4 is general services. 6 is retrieving parcels delivered to the post office. Slow going for 4. My queue. This is going to take ages. After 10mins decide I’ll wander over to 6 and just check I’m in the right queue, play the stupid tourist who doesn’t know the system and hope he takes pity on me and gives me the stamps there and then because that’s a quick transaction right?

As I wander over, a young girl cuts me up and beats me to the counter. As soon as she does that, my phone rings.

It’s Mum.

I’d spent some time last night writing out the whole process of what she has to do today to send credit card by courier to friend in Brasil who I’m staying with end of next week. It necessitates septuagenarian parents going to the local town and a DHL Service Point in a WH Smiths. Had written that they were to ring me if there were any problems.

There’s a problem.

Have to exit the post office and go outside so I can speak loudly and clearly.

Miss Brasil’s postcode isn’t recognised by DHL. Computer says no. I’ll ring you back with confirmation. Hold on two ticks. In WH Smiths.

Ring Miss Brasil. At the worst possible point the 4G signal drops and I go to dodgy GPRS signal. Sod it. Miss Brasil’s mobile won’t connect. Hear some Spanish/Portuguese blurb. Assume it’s because of dodgy signal.

4G drifts in again.

WhatsApp her. Only get one tick.

Which means it’s not sent to her handset.

4G drops and no signal now.

Sod it.

Of all the sodding times.

4G is back.

Google Brasilian postcodes. Had been give a number in the format 12.345-678. Dots and dashes. DHL’s system doesn’t do dots and dashes. Must be a 5 digit code. Google suggests it should just be 12345 but what about 678. How significant is 678? This is critical stuff for the safe delivery of one’s credit card.

GPRS kicks in. Sod it. I want 4G now.

4G kicks in. This is taking the whatsit now. Why can’t it just be stable for 10mins??

Two ticks appear on WhatsApp.

Delivered to handset.

Phew.

Try phoning again but no connection. Phone signal keeps dropping. Sod it.

Ring Mum.

She’s not picking up.

Blue ticks appear on WhatsApp.

Miss Brasil is typing on WhatsApp.

Oh the suspense.

Receive two text messages to say I’ve two voicemails.

It’ll be Mum trying to ring me. They’re along the lines of: hello, can you hear me.

Miss Brasil confirms postcode is OK as just 12345.

Ring Mum. Goes to voicemail.

Ring Dad. Goes to voicemail.

Oh come on.

My phone rings.

It’s Mum.

This is hard work. For both of us.

Postcode should just be 12345. DHL computer says yes.

Don’t forget the customs declaration either.

They’ll need a cup of tea after all this. Thank you parents for sorting!

Right that little issue is sorted.

Back inside the post office.

Oh.

For.

Sake.

Where did this lot come from? Now about a dozen people in the queue for general services. A queue for counter 6 pick up as well.

This is going to take ages.

But counters 1 and 5 now open.

Slightly speeds up things.

Still another 10-15mins.

Though slightly quicker than my village post office!

At last.

Counter 4 is mine. All mine.

In my best Spanish, courtesy of Google Translate whilst in the queue.

Hello I’d like 11 stamps to England and Germany by air mail please thank you.

No problem.

Taps in the order.

That will be ARS1,870.00.

That won’t mean much to you.

Let’s just try the sterling equivalent.

For 11 postcards.

That will be £38.00.

What?!?!?

You.

Must.

Be.

Joking!?!?

No. He says.

£3.50 postage per postcard. Postcards were only 30pence each.

Even he’s embarrassed.

Oh well. They need to be sent as I’m fed up with them cluttering up rucksack.

Hand over credit card.

It’s a post office.

Of course it’ll take a credit card.

Nope.

Not today.

Card machine is broken.

You.

Are.

Having.

A.

Laugh.

Check wallet for cash.

I have ARS1,650.00.

I’m short.

It’s taken me 40mins to get this far since I first walked in the post office.

Harumph.

Saunter out.

In search of a bank. Needed cash anyway.

Return to post office loaded.

Join the queue of about 10 this time.

This is going to take ages.

Counter 4 finishes with a customer after a few minutes.

He’s motioning in my direction.

What.

Me?

Find myself pointing to myself.

Yes. You.

Come on over.

Stride over the rope queuing system.

Bypass six others.

11 was it?

Er. Yes.

Here you go. And gives me 11 stamps. Well, I say stamps. They’re more large stickers.

Hand over cash.

Muito gracias. I say.

So.

It’s taken just under an hour to buy 11 stamps and help parents out.

They’re expensive stamps. So hope they’re actually delivered to the recipients after all that.

You few. You lucky few.

Quick look around Bariloche. Not quite as I imagined. Was expecting a more Alpine ski resort feel but it’s more modern and messy.

Cathedral built in the early 1940s looks like it has a concrete frame. Quick lunch. Ask for a cheese toastie. She takes a cheese and ham from the shelf. Opens it and takes the ham out. Good job I’m not a vegetarian.

Main square has Germanic style architecture housing the tourism board. Also has a number of locals flogging photos with their St Bernard dogs. With a small rum barrel under their chins.

Who remembers Bernie Winters and Schnorbitz??