Driving. More Driving.

Friday morning we left the municipal campground in Bella Vista. I fed the dogs one more time and off we drove. 

Argentinians are in perpetual economic crisis abandon their pets when they go camping and the dogs survive but they miss being in a family and it shows. I feed them but luckily for us Rusty wants no competition or we’d be overloaded with strays. And Rusty gets mad at me if I show them any affection. Nothing to be done so on we go to Buenos Aires. 

Layne discovered we were low on Argentine cash so we went to the magic office where you can get pesos from dollars you send to yourself. I’m not sure how it works but you can get dollars from your bank and pick up pesos at the Western Union except at this one we couldn’t  buy they did tell us where we could change dollar bills. We got three hundred thousand pesos for two hundred bucks (1500 to one for the mathematically impaired). It used to be Argentina only printed dollar bills (one thousand pesos in those days) I kid you not. The largest denomination was one dollar. Nowadays you can find 10,000 pesos ($6) and very rarely twenty thousand ($12) so that helps. We got a wad of these: 

ATMs for foreigners are horrendous. You pay ten bucks in fees to withdraw ten dollars worth of pesos which even I understand is a total ripoff. Argentina has a failing economy so if you have a crisp one hundred dollars worth bill Argentines will buy that off you eagerly. That or sending money to yourself by Western Union. This country is a pain some times.

A river of grass, parts of the Chaco: 

Gauchito Gil shrine as usual: 

One thing that has surprised us is the number of police checkpoints, without exaggeration we may drive through a dozen a day. Mostly they wave us through after looking in puzzlement at our front license plate, but not always. 

They sometimes stop us, confirm we’re driving a motorhome and usually ask where are we coming from (Paraguay) and where are we going (Buenos  Aires).  They ask that all over Latin America at checkpoints and I have no idea why that matters. Usually we then get waved through. 

Sometimes they extend the chat asking about Florida and one guy asked if we speak English at home (yes).  Another guy asked about living in the US. I said well there’s a war going on so I like being in peaceful South America. He liked that and waved me through. Once I got breathalyzer. At 4pm I passed with flying colors. 

It’s really no big deal passing through checkpoints. Mostly they seem to be checking trucks and a few locals in their cars and we get a few curious glances. It’s funny because these cops have a reputation among overlanders for being totally corrupt. So far we’ve met nothing but cheerful professionalism  so they are fine by us.

Northern Argentina is poor and looking at the houses tells the story. That and the numbers of street dogs. Plastic tarp houses:

These homes are set on slightly high ground surrounded by marsh. I can’t imagine water levels after a heavy rain, or the number of mosquitoes. 

A solid home with a personal shrine:

A lot of the road surface was pretty good but much of it also offered lumpy patches and potholes  such as to make GANNET2 lurch all the time. 

Rest stop for Rusty: 

This roadside eatery (“comedor”) offers grilled flat bread, fry bread, breaded steak (Milanesa) and worms presumably for bait, home baked bread honey and sauces. Smoke indicates grilled meat the ubiquitous Argentine asado. 

It turns out it’s faster by bike: 

Good pavement; 

Not so good: 

 
I wrote the other day how Argentina’s government has killed its inflation and budget deficit, basically by laying off thousands of government workers and stopping public works. Like this:

The highway turns into a construction zone but with no workers and no machines and after years of no improvement the road that was being upgraded is abandoned.

This was supposed to be a four lane freeway with the old road being two lanes in one direction and the new lanes alongside. The new lanes are there with bridges and signposts but they aren’t properly connected so only local traffic can use them. The government ordered an end to work and that’s that. What a waste. 

For us it’s a one time drive but for locals it must be frustrating  to see the new road abandoned half done.

I try to imagine what Americans might do if they were forced to live like this, current levels of decay multiplied by the way Argentina’s roads have decayed.  The good bits need to be enjoyed.  

We drove Friday until nearly 7pm pulling into the gas station we had chosen just at dark. We were all exhausted and Rusty ate a huge dinner and passed out in his bed. We did the same but took a little longer. 

I hope you enjoy your Sunday and we plan to by resting after this long drive. 

I found a large cold Brahms’s beer at the restaurant and convenience store a gloomy place at the edge of the gas station complex. 

We had hoped to eat out after a long day but e ended up with cold cuts at home listening to Rusty snore. 

I asked Google what YPF stands for as I can never remember. YPF stands for Yacimientos Petrolíferos Fiscales, which translates to "Fiscal Oilfields" in English.

That was our Friday night 300 miles from Buenos Aires. Good night.