Thursday, 17 January 2019
Buenos Aires, Argentina
Flight at 1015hrs to Buenos Aires. Arrive airport 0815hrs. There’s just me and about thirty other passengers. None of the check-ins are open yet. Not even security is open yet. My flight is the first of the day.
Bariloche airport is small. Very small. Rucksack has gained a few kilos the past few weeks. Like its owner. All flights are going to Buenos Aires apart from three. Low risk of heavy bag going astray. Having made a manly attempt at sewing up the split rucksack yesterday, I’m not convinced it will stand the force of some baggage handler throwing it around. Decide to get it wrapped up in one of those cellophane machines. You know the ones. They wrap up your luggage in a mile of cellophane as a security measure. That should do the trick. Now walking about with a bright fluorescent green package. It won’t get lost now.
Now find myself at the back of a long queue. It’s 0900hrs and wondering why check in hasn’t opened. American girl behind me is fretting. And anxious. Boyfriend is trying to calm her down.
And then.
An announcement.
In Spanish.
None around me understand as we’re not Spanish speakers.
Ask a local.
Basically, there’s a pilots’ strike.
For 48hrs.
WHAT?!?!?
Another announcement will be made at 1030hrs. To confirm if flight is cancelled or merely delayed.
Oh crap.
Go and speak with a LATAM rep. She explains that the pilots’ union is meeting the government right now. If the strike happens it will last 48hrs until Saturday.
But. I need to be in Uruguay on Saturday.
If the strike is called off, the aircraft will be able to take off from Buenos Aires.
They won’t know which way it’s going until 1030hrs.
Keep an eye of Flight Tracker.
As soon as I discover that the flight has actually taken off at 1020hrs, the display signs show a delayed departure time of 1310hrs. 3hr delay.
Strike is off.
Phew.
Aircraft is in the air. Aircraft lands. We embark. Take off. Land at Buenos Aires.
Phew.
A couple of nights at a nice little boutique hotel called Casa Calma Hotel. Rather pleasant and in the middle of the shopping district, it seems.
Off to DHL. Oh yes. I have to send cold weather gear to Vancouver to be picked up from a friend there, in preparation for Alaska, and send a box of sundry stuff home that has accumulated in rucksack.
Need bubble wrap to wrap a mug I bought at the Russian Antarctic Station in Bellinghausen. Sweet shop next door to DHL should have some form of wrapping? No. But he directs me to a shop a block away.
She sits all alone in a dimly lit stationery shop. She speaks English. She’s very friendly and seemingly pleased for a customer.
But.
She doesn’t sell bubble wrap.
But.
She knows a shop that does.
A block away.
Off I trot.
Oh yes. They sell bubble wrap. Great big rolls of it. Buy a metre.
Pop in to Miss All Alone to say thank you on the way back. She’s well pleased to talk to someone.
Decide against sending winter clothing to Vancouver. It’s £90 to send plus another £90 to send sundry stuff home. I can buy any winter stuff I need when I’m in Alaska. So send everything home. It’s bloody expensive at £120!
Pack everything tightly in a DHL box. It’s bulging a bit. Not a problem. They’ll put some DHL tape around it. Young girl gets a bit carried away. She must have used 100m of the stuff. A fellow customer offers to translate. And with that, I have a very taped up box!
So that’s two DHL packages up in the air. Let’s hope they both reach their destination.
Everyone I have met in Argentina has been so friendly and helpful. Not what I thought when I first came here and thought I’d have to pretend to be German.
Nonsense.
I’m happy to say that I’m British here.