24. Adios Argentina

NB. We did escape – we just forgot to post this…(19.09.21)

From the comfort of our cabin, lockdown life in El Calafate drifted into a routine. Allowed out only to buy food and medicine, we were so glad that we had managed to land a place with a garden, some space to exercise and the occasional company of Letitia and the Germans. We were entertained by regular patrols of the local dogs, each one a different breed, who would trot past our windows regularly each day, keen for any food or attention. Hannah was also encouraged occasionally to do some yoga by the local cat. Letitia tinkered with her 4×4 and did her accounts. The Germans tried to find a way to get up to their planned Mendoza farm-stay in time for grape picking.

After a few days, our little community was joined by three young guys from Israel, who it appeared had come out to South America mainly for partying and meeting girls. Instead they were limited to listening to music and kicking a football backwards and forward, until it got stuck on the roof, after which getting it off the roof occupied them for several more days. We did feel sorry for them, although also worried their noise might attract attention. We kept speaking to our embassy call centre (amusingly not based in Argentina, but Malaga…), who mainly told us to sit tight for now. As there was no conceivable way to leave Calafate – all public transport and car rental was cancelled and cycling back up Ruta 40 in lockdown was not an option – we had no choice but to wait.

One pleasant day 2 weeks after our arrival, Letitia suggested we have a discrete Sunday asado (barbeque) in true Argentinian style. As the police were on high alert, we had to wait until a specific Sunday (the 3rd?) as this was by routine a national gnocchi day, rather than the usual Sunday asado, so police wouldn’t be as viligent. We agreed a little nervously, and prepareed aubergine and corn on the cob, whilst Leticia sourced meat and cooked up a Brazilian bean specialty dish. Remarkably it was our first authentic family-style asado and we were fascinated to learn how they worked. The grill is intentionally smaller than the brick hearth, so that a wood fire can be made in one corner. This is topped up with fresh wood throuhout, and the hot embers are then scraped out from the base of the fire and under the grill. This ingenious system provides a charcoal-style heat but using freshly cut wood, and can be kept topped up for hours on end if needed, the heat varied across the grill as well.

Glad to have been shown this, but a little disappointed so late in the trip, we consoled ourselves by feasting on the best food since our meal out in Calafate 3 weeks previously, which now felt like a lifetime ago and a very different world.

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Very abruptly early in week 3, we got a phone call from a private number, which turned out to be a local British embassy member of staff in Buenos Aires. She was phoning to tell us about a coach being organised by other European embassies that might be departing on Wednesday, and might have space for us and a couple of other Brits also stranded in Calafate. We asked if we could take our bikes, and she said she would ask and contact us as soon as possible with more news. Another call, and a great deal of confusion, the following day and apparently bikes would be possible. We started planning how to pack down our bikes, and decided that a combination of cardboard boxes available from the supermarket, bin bags, clingfilm and parcel tape might work. We were reluctant to pack them down soon, as there was still a possibility of flying from Rio Gallegos up to BA, which we thought might be safer.

On Wednesday, the bus was now definitely going on Friday morning, and we definitely had places for us but still not sure about our bikes – we should book tickets the evening before with the bus company. We managed to find a taxi firm for Friday morning from messaging the Ukrainians, booked in very broken Spanish, and stocked up on food and drink (including necessary malbec) for what we understood to be a 40 hour journey. 6pm on Thursday we phoned the company and were told definitely no bike space. After some toing and froing with the embassy, it was decided there might be space but no guarantee: we could just turn up and see. We set to packing our bikes after dinner (10pm ish), taking everything apart we could undo ourselves, when suddenly the lights went out. The power cut lasted for the next hour, so head torches on, we finished off one bike and moved onto the next. By 1am our bikes were the size of very large suitcases and we thought they might stand a chance of travelling home.

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Early the next morning we finished packing the rest of our gear and bid farewell to Leticia, the Germans and our canine friends. Robbie trod in one of their deposits shortly before leaving but fortunately the mess came off easily enough with the garden hose. Along with our kit, we also had been given a personalised ‘right of passage’ from the embassy. Saved to our whatsapp, we had no idea what impact this would have, but hoped we would never have to use it!

Our taxi, a small hatchback, arrived on time, and somehow we squeezed the bikes and all our bags in, with just enough space for the two of us as well, masks on. First hurdle passed, it felt bizarre to retrace our original route out of the city, east to the city gates. Having been in the city for a month, with the police patrols we simply hadn’t been able to explore the area, so it was very surreal driving out of the ‘home’ we had stayed in for a month but barely seen. Dropped off, we paid the fare and queued up for temperature checks with another dozen European couples and then filled in a form. Slowly and steadily other travellers arrived, as we waited for our bus.

An hour later the bus arrived, we were temperature checked by the local medics (luckily a while after the hot and stressful taxi ride!) and we moved our kit towards it as one-by-one people were ticked off a list and let on board. The driver huffed at our bikes and shook his head. But after some thought, found a cubby hole above one of the wheel arches at the back of the hold. With much squeezing and grunting, our bikes were on board. Now it just remained to get ourselves on. There were two lists, and we were on one but not the other. It seemed through all the conversation between our embassy and the bus company last night, they had presumed we had cancelled. And to get us back on the right list required a printer back at the office. We were allowed upstairs on the bus and everyone just needed to wait until the paperwork was complete.

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Four hours later, a car pulled up by the bus, paperwork in hand. Clearly the nearest printer must have been in Chile. Fortunately the rest of the bus weren’t aware that we were the cause of the delay, they were all very polite and happy to be on board, and anyway what’s four hours out of a 46 hour trip? At long last the bus rolled off to the east, with us and our bikes settled down within it.

Time on the bus passed in a strange blur. We chatted for a while to the other Brit on board and his Chinese wife, supposed to have been enjoying a 2 week holiday, desperate to get home to complete a visa application. We finished our main meal after a few hours, and opened our wine, reading and watching a few downloads, then extended the semi-cama seats and tried to doze off. As night set in, the temperature on the bus began to climb unusually. People started stripping off layers and looking for windows to open. Robbie went down to the bottom deck and tried to speak to the driver, but he and copilot were locked in to a forward compartment, completely uncontactable. Back upstairs, it was now around 35 degrees and the windows were wet with condensation. Many of the passengers, including Hannah, were lying against the colder window to cool down. Finally someone found a window that would crack open and blessed fresh air poured in. We nodded off at last, only to be woken at around 4am, freezing cold. Layers back on and we got a few more hours sleep.

At midday the next day we were excited to find ourselves pulling into a service station. We had around 2 litres of water left with us but others were running low, and the thought of toilets was also very appealing. We were told to form an orderly queue to disembark one-by-one as a police woman watched guard. Once half of us had been relieved however, there was some dawdling to get back on board and our orderly queue had become too amorphous for the police officer’s tolerance. She demanded we all get back on board and leave immediately. Our apologies and pleas fell on deaf ears, and with the suggestion of arrest, we trooped back on disconsolately.

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The rest of the day passed with more endless views of pampas, snacks and reading. In the evening we were treated to an unnerving police escort into the bus station at Bahia Blanca, completely unannounced. As we had just received notification that you could only enter Buenos Aires if you had a flight booked (which was impossible) we suddenly had a horrible feeling they might turn us back. With the risk of potential detention, we were sending whatsapp locations to the embassy, so at least they knew where exactly we were in Argentina! However, one passport check and a cleaning of the bus undercarriage with disinfectant (white body suits and gas masks) later, we were allowed off to use the station toilets. Relieved to be back on our way, the rest of the night passed smoothly, and we awoke on the edge of Buenos Aires province.

It took another few hours to get into the city through toll gates that now acted as police checkpoints, preventing access from the suburbs to the central city. The rows of abandoned cars suggested those that hadn’t made it! The empty roads were a strange contrast to the buzzing city we had experienced 3 months earlier. As we drew to a halt in the embassy district we were welcomed to the city by representatives from embassies of all the people on board. The Japanese embassy staff arrived in three piece suits and tie pins, the Dutch in chinos and shirts. We had Adam, clearly an ex public school intern. Sweet as he was, we were not too confident that he would prevent us getting arrested, so we looked rather urgently for the nearest taxi. Bidding farewell to our bus seat neighbours and loaded our bikes onto the roof of a taxi to take us the last few blocks down to our Airbnb in San Telmo, the oldest district in Buenos Aires.

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Hannah had found a nice little airbnb with its own entrance off a quiet side street, with a courtyard shared with the owner. It was in fact opposite the vegetarian restaurant that we had first eaten out in during our arrival in Buenos Aires in January, a world away to our present circumstances! Life went into a rather odd routine of checking about how to get home, and trying to spend our time in the city. By this point in BA, you were not allowed to leave the house without a face mask (luckily we had our buffs!), alone, and only to food shops with a 3 block radius of your home. No exercise was allowed and the presence of police officers on a number of street corners deterred trying to stray too far from home. However, armed with our, large, shopping bags we zig zagged our way around, trying to take photos of the interesting district, and its colourful grafitti inconspicuously.

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As there continued to be no direct flights back to the UK since the lock down was announced mid March, we spent alot of our time checking in with the embassy on twitter to see what options were available. However, many route were convoluted, with a series of different airlines, and almost always cancelled last minute. A low point was when the Embassy recommended the only possible flight was one that went Buenos Aires > Sao Paulo, Brazil > Addis Ababa, Ethiopia > Paris, France> London. With the risk of getting stuck in one of the earlier countries in the journey almost certain or losing our bikes, we decided to sit it out and wait for a direct flight, whenever that might be. However, as we found out having been added to the ‘UK in Argentina’ whatsapp thread, people were getting increasingly frustrated. As many had simply been on a two week holiday when the country had been shut down two weeks before they were trying to get home to work, and therefore getting close to their credit card limits on every flight cancellation.

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Having made that decision, we settled into a routine of reading, marching with our shopping bags around the district, and occassionally trying to reclaim the fitness we lost through the latest of youtube workouts. Although we did have a courtyard (with lemon trees, which we were able to use in our daily guacamole). The humid conditions meant that mosquitos were almost always present. As the numbers of dengue fever patients outnumbered covid infections at that time, and the prognosis was about the same, unfortunately we had to spend more time inside than we wanted, the windier balcony providing some outside relief.

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The better internet did mean that we were able to catch up with friends and family back in the UK, who were also by this time well into lockdown living. Having had limited internet, and at most times nothing, over the last few months it was great to be able to catch up, although for family it did feel rather isolating that we were so far away, and with no way of getting back at all. The first time in our lives we had ever been in such a position. Zoom became a daily part of our lives, and we completed, very unsuccessfully, many quizzes with college and sailing friends. It also provided an opportunity to catch up with friends overseas that we hadn’t spoken to in ages. With the Court’s also now going online, Hannah was also able to participate in a hearing in the High Court of one of the cases she had been working on before she left. Commenting on a two day hearing, whilst dressed in your smartest cycling clothes, in an air bnb in Buenos Aires on a case against the Secretary of State was a case worth remembering. Particularly, when it was a success, turns out it’s not a good idea to permit housing on one of the four sites in the UK used to dispose of BSE cattle without having full environmental information!

Our Buenos Aires neighbours were also struggling with being stuck in their flats, and we felt sorry for the children who I don’t think were allowed to leave the flats at all. We started following the President on twitter, waiting for when the next fortnight of announcements and what would change (which was invariably nothing). But the country seemed to be continually in support of the lock down measures, and every night (not just Thursdays like in the UK) all the neighbours joined on the balconies to clap for at least ten minutes. Occasionally, there would be banging of pots and pans against an announcement (such as the early release of prisoners to house arrest prevent covid in prisons, we thought a relatively sensible idea), but this was rare occasion. The clapping also signalled our daily malbec opening, which was always a convenient reminder!

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After a long silence, punctuated by the President’s announcement that there would be no commercial flights leaving Argentina until 1 September(!!). We heard on 26 April that two repatriation flights were to be put on by the UK (via Guyana) in quick succession, one on 7 May and the other on 12 May. If you weren’t on the flights (and you had to pass a temperature check) there would be no further assistance in returning. The shock was that these were only available to British citizens, and not British Residents. So even if you were a long term resident of the UK, you could not take the flight and had to be reliant on your own country to repatriate you. However, as most countries had by this time finished their repat. flights, it put many people, we thought unfairly, in a bad position. With the expectation that we were going to be on the latter flight (as we were without children and based in BA rather than the regions), we slowly got things ready to go, but with not that great an urgency. However, this changed when we were emailed out of the blue that we were on the first flight. A flurry of packing and sorting (and checking that our beloved bikes could join us), we spent a day trying to pay to get on to the flight. Twice the cost of our original flights home, we swallowed the annoyance and were grateful to have the option to get home.

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However, when we mentioned this to our shopkeeper friends they were concerned that we were returning. The news from the UK, with its very high infection rates, compared to the low rates in Argentina, did not seem the most rationale thing to do.

Keep well folks and we hope to pedal again with you soon H & R xx