A Girl in the World

buenos aires

Argentina is known for its beautiful people and delicious steaks.  Thailand is known for it’s pristine beaches and top-notch customer service.  Thailand and steaks don’t fit.  And neither do Argentina and top-notch customer service.  That’s because there is none.

Ok, I’m joking.  Of course there’s customer service in Argentina.  Restauranteurs, shop owners, security guards, teachers and cabbies – we’ve met some of the sweetest.  But in general, it’s hard to find quality, feel-good, they’ve-gone-above-and-beyond customer service here.

Whether it’s the help centre for a mobile, internet or telephone company, people just don’t seem to care.  You call, someone answers and if the question is standard, you get a standard, canned-response reply.  But if the question you have requires an answer that isn’t in the books, don’t expect to problem-solve through it together.  Most of the time, the person on the other side of the line will just hang up.

Yes.  Hang up.  It is crazy.

We’ve met various entrepreneurs from the expat community here and time and time again, they say that the biggest opportunities locally lie in improving the customer experience.  It’s just bad.

You call a manufacturer about possibly sourcing goods from his shop and you don’t hear back for weeks (if at all).  It boggles my mind that companies don’t value the fact that I’m an interested, willing customer, ready to give my money for a good or service they provide.  Why are they not tripping over themselves to serve me and serve me well?  The spoilt North American consumer in me just can’t understand it.  It’s backward economics.

But a closer look reveals something different.  It’s economics, yes, but not necessarily backwards.

Because salaries here are so low (minimum wage is 1800 pesos a month, which translates to about $450 USD) and opportunities for advancement are virtually non-existent, it’s hard to command above-and-beyond performance in low to mid-wage jobs.  We’ve heard of cases where telecentre workers are told that they should average 90 seconds per call.  There are no customer satisfaction metrics, no recorded calls, no CRM systems tracking past queries.  Just you and the stopwatch.

But of course, what else would you expect from a place where inflation runs rampant, where economic stability changes with the seasons, where cost cutting and cash are king.

Manufacturers don’t hold inventory, which means they aren’t tripping over themselves to sell it.  They’ll make it on demand, but only if fully paid.  This means it’s more profitable to maintain current relationships than go after leads that may yield zero or low volume business.

There is no concept of credit here. Inflation fluctuates so frequently that some restaurants don’t print prices on their menus – you have to ask.

Here, the economic stability that we take for granted in places like North America and Europe does not exist.  This is why come pay day, people line up at Cambio shops to change pesos to dollars.  Better to keep savings in cold, hard Benjamins than to risk investing pesos in banks.

And so, in a place where financial stability for the average person is dependent more on the political and economic policies in place at any given time than on personal effort, priorities shift.  Instead of focusing on career advancement, promotions and innovation in the workplace, people focus on more tangible, controllable benefits: family, friends and leisure time.  People don’t live to work.  They live to live.

They live to live.  And it is obvious.  On Sundays, businesses are closed, families crowd the parks, coffee shops are packed, subways and buses are empty.  Meals are 3-hour long marathons of storytelling, laughter and shared time.  Friends see each other weekly, not monthly.  People get to know their neighbours.

I won’t take back my opinion that customer service here is bad.  It can definitely be improved.  But there is so much more to it than just that.  There are larger forces at work here – political, economic, historical – that help explain the workings of a place.

For me, it’s all been a long lesson on perspective.  Give your best, in everything, regardless of what reward systems are in place.  Don’t take for granted functioning, (mostly) efficient governments. Treasure the softer, lovelier, immeasurable goodness of family, friends and leisure time in your life.

Live to live.

{ 1 comment }

A "Crisis of Coins"

April 29, 2010

This place is the Wild Wild West.  Someone blatantly jumps in front of you in the grocery store queue.  A fist fight on the sidewalk.  Traffic jams at every major and non-major intersection between here and Texas.  Dishonest cabbies, apathetic customer service reps, irresponsible dog owners who refuse to pick up after their pets.  This is Buenos Aires.  It is beauty, love and madness.

Whenever we get together with Porteños, conversations inevitably wander towards politics, the state of the economy and the backwards workings of a once mighty place.  Similar to other young democracies in Asia and other parts of the developing world, Argentina finds itself in the throes of well-meaning leaders who just can’t help being a little more selfish than the next guy.  And being with an Argentinian means that I’m witness to the average Argie’s gripes and frustrations every single day.  Mostly, people find a way to laugh it off.  No sense in worrying about something that you can’t change (ha, the irony of democracy).

Inefficient government and government policies, combined with a resourceful pool of determined citizens yield a system and way of life just a little different from the western world.  Cash-only rental, real estate sales and restaurant transactions.   Bribery in business.  Dishonest and corrupt law enforcement officials.  A virtually zero credit economic system (homes, cars, and rents are all paid in cold hard USD cash).  And, fake money.

Now, friends who’ve visited Argentina in the past have groaned about being duped with fake money by taxi drivers.  Three months of living on and off in the country last year and not once did I come across fake bills.  But last week, as we hurried out of a cab to get to dinner, the cabbie slipped us a 50 peso fake and it was only after a few days that we’d realized we were scammed.  And though 50 pesos only translates to about 12 USD, I don’t like the feeling of being taken advantage of.  I was royally annoyed.

But you know what’s amazing?  Whereas I was annoyed about the situation, the Boy, as always, was cool, calm and collected.  He laughed it off and said that we’d just put the fake back into the system.  Simple.

Right. Of course.  Just put it right back into the system.  Why didn’t I think of that?

And the more time I spend here, the more amazed I am to see how nonchalantly the locals have found a way to cope with such backwardness.  The legal and illegal things have all found a way to weave themselves into the normal course of daily life here.

Last night during dinner, we talked about the “crisis of coins”.  The subway and bus systems here are relatively efficient ways of getting around, albeit not very efficiently managed.  Subway passes only work for subways and most buses only take cash (1 peso, to be exact).  This means that in a city of 9 million people, the majority of the population is ducking underground or hopping on a colectivo every single day, at least twice a day.  Imagine the demand for coins.  One peso coins, to be exact.  And imagine the opportunities if you’re the owner of a corner-street kiosk, selling small change items like candy, cigarettes and chewing gum.  There are crowds of people with two peso, five peso and 10 peso bills aching for change.  Perhaps that little pack of gum over there, instead of pricing it at 1 peso flat, you can price it at 1.25 or 1.50.  Wouldn’t you much rather change a 5 peso bill and earn a few cents more on the transaction?

Supposedly, the demand for coins once created a black market system where people would ask to change a 10 peso bill and be forced to accept 9 pesos in return, the kiosk owner pocketing 1 peso in ‘commission’ for the service.  Clever, no? =)

Coming from clean, boring Canada, the Wild Wild West ways of doing things here fascinate me.  The economic systems that evolve in places where governments are still struggling to rightfully fulfill their duties to the people are incredibly interesting.  It feels like every day yields a new surprise, a different perspective in ways of doing things.

This is what deep travel is all about: the process of peeking around the folds and understanding the quiet ways people cope with their laws and limitations, with all things good and bad about daily life in a big city.  This is a whole new education.

{ 1 comment }

Quality, not quantity

April 29, 2010

The older we get, the more we need the people we knew when we were young.

It’s 2:30 AM and we’ve just finished with the dishes from tonight’s dinner with friends.  Lots of wine, picadas and pizza.  Wow, it is so nice to be able to socialize with a few familiar faces.  Sometimes, this adventurous lifestyle of moving around and conquering a whole new city can deprive one of the comforting, stable joy of good friends.

Throughout my travels, I’ve met a lot of people.  Crazy, smart, fun individuals who bring their own spice to life.  But as amazing as its been to run around and party with a bunch of strangers who have nothing to lose, there’s nothing more heart warming than catching up with people who’ve known you while sober.  It is so nice to talk about politics, old travel stories, and memories of years past from the comforts of the kitchen table, instead a sticky kiosk from a smokey bar.  Simple, down-to-earth shared time.  It makes such a difference.

The last time we met with Greg and Ana was six months ago when I was here in November.  Back then I was full of pent-up travel angst.  I was itching to hit the road, to see Asia, to wander and jump on the backpacker band wagon.  I wanted to be everywhere at once, happy to be in BA but even happier that it was for a limited amount of time.  Wow, how things change after a little time and a lot of experience. Today, there is zero desire in me to run around marking countries off a long list of things to do.

I *love* the little home that we’ve built here with our small basil plant and fresh daisies.  I love the routine of school, work and coffee dates with friends.  I love the subtitled movies, cheesy Spanish pop radio and corner fruit stands.  I love the stable, constant, tenderness of being with my love.  It has been so good for the soul.

I wish I could kidnap all the important in my life and plant them all in BA.  I don’t need many people.  Just a few good friends, my parents, my brother, my dog.  They’re enough. Actually, they’re more than enough; they’re everything.

These pockets of time catching up over coffee, sharing a meal, going for a walk, or sending an email that is real and open and intimate – all with friends who make a positive difference in my life – are such blessings.  I need to make sure these connections happen more often.  They’re the moments that matter most.

{ 0 comments }

It’s a crisp, breezy evening in this here BA. A perfectly clear night for spying on our neighbours.

{ 0 comments }

To market

April 9, 2010

Life is good.  Seriously.  To wake up in the morning and worry about nothing more than buying ingredients for the day’s lunch is just … heaven.  And no, I didn’t win the lottery, nor did I strike it rich with stock, and no I don’t come from old money.  A few months of simple, care free living is so much more affordable than you would think.  And I hope that everyone finds the courage, the time and the support (from loved ones, family members and friends) to do something like this.  It’s so good for the soul.

Today’s big adventure was lunch.  We perused every aisle at the supermarket, we lusted after hand made pastas, we bought a gorgeous block of fresh mozarella cheese.  I picked basil fresh from my little plant in the kitchen, we fried small steaks with oil and garlic, we slurped pumpkin pasta slathered in olive oil and sundried tomatoes.  We cooked while the local radio station blasted latin pop in our bright, breezy apartment.

Life is so good.

I am so blessed.

{ 0 comments }

While I was sleeping

April 8, 2010

I’m a night owl.  He’s an early bird.  I can sleep in till noon if left to my own devices.  He’s up prowling the apartment like a cat at 7.30 AM.  Sometimes he takes pictures of sunrises.  Like this morning.  I think I’ve only ever seen one, maybe two, sunrises in my life.  Once in Greece while dancing till dawn and second on an airplane crossing the international date line.  =)

{ 0 comments }

Everything in its place

April 7, 2010

A few nights ago, I decided to honour my place as a woman and my mother’s origins from the food capital of the Philippines (Pampanga) by cooking dinner.  Specifically, I decided to cook a staple Philippine chicken dish called adobo.  Yes, I said it. I volunteered to cook something different from scrambled eggs and toast.  I’ve attempted this dish several times before (it’s my default exotic dish whenever I want to show off my culinary culturedness) so it wasn’t a new feat for me.  This time, however, it turned out better than normal.  Delicious, in fact!  Just the right balance of salt and sweet, with caramelized onions and garlic.  I marinated, I boiled, I pre-fried and sautéed.  I consulted mama’s recipe over and over again to make certain I did everything right.  And it turned out excellent!  Yummy!  Sumptuous!

Mama, you would have been so proud of me (bar the fact that I burnt the coffee, AGAIN!)!

But, besides the delight of cooking something and having it taste the way it’s supposed to, something more serendipitous added to my joy that night.  I was so overcome with glee when I found out that the kitchen utensils we’ve been using are perfectly matched to our pots and pans!  Please see the picture below for a clearer idea of what I mean.  The hole in the giant spoon!  It fits just there, on the handle of that pot!  There’s a whole set of them – utensils, pots and matching holes and notches.  How great is that?  So great!  So great, in fact, that I might just be inspired to cook again.

*gasp*

ArgentinaQ22010-16

{ 1 comment }

The tour

April 5, 2010

This is our home, for the next few months.

{ 5 comments }

Simpler times

April 5, 2010

On Sunday afternoon, we decided to walk over to the Hippodromo Palermo to watch some horse racing.  Gambling on an Easter Sunday wasn’t exactly part of the plan but it was a great excuse to walk through the parks and get some sunshine.

During the hour-long trek over, I thought a lot about why it is that I’ve decided to spend another 9 weeks in this city, in the middle of Autumn, in a place that feels a million miles away from home.  Buenos Aires is as far south as Capetown.

Besides obvious things like matters of the heart, an affordable cost of living and some interesting business opportunities, there’s definitely something more about this place that keeps me close.  Right now, I’m sitting at a corner coffee shop on a Monday morning watching dog walkers run their daily routes.  There is a butcher around the corner that sells fresh meats and chickens, a pizzeria down the street and a fresh produce stand with the most gorgeous garlic bulbs I’ve ever seen.

There’s a feeling of community here that’s hard to find in other big cities around the world.  The grocery shop will deliver any purchase over $150 pesos (30 USD) to your door.  Similar to big cities like NY and London, grocery chains here understand that urban living in large apartment blocks requires a level of service unheard of in the suburbs.  Grocery delivery isn’t a new idea to me.  But here, as we walked home with our few bags of food a few nights ago, I was stunned to see delivery boys walking wheeled carts across the street ready to deliver groceries around the neighbourhood.  I don’t know why I found it so humbling.  I expected a large Carrefour truck to come barreling around the corner ready to tackle the day’s orders in record time.  Instead, a small army of ‘walkers’ hand deliver each bin to apartments big and small. I laughed.  It is so charming.

That same evening, we stumbled across a local video rental store.  Amazingly, they too deliver.  With delight, I tweeted about it:

dcg another reason i love buenos aires: video rental delivery. choose a movie, phone the store and they come with the dvd to your door. =)


My friend replied:

@dcg you need netflix instant play


To which I replied:

dcg @christosap but i like the door-to-door delivery precisely because it is so old-school. simpler times, simpler times. =)


And maybe that’s exactly why this place pulls at me so.  It’s a modern, crazy, bustling mess but somehow, in the heart of these tree-lined neighbourhoods, there’s still a way to connect to simpler times, where lives are lived not only in the confines and securities of home but also at produce stands and butcher shops and coffee terraces along sidewalks and parks.  Here, I feel a part of the community.  And that’s important.  Being a part of something bigger than yourself is important.  It feels nice.

{ 2 comments }

Saturday in San Telmo

April 5, 2010

Easter weekend in this here Catholic capital was a quiet one. Those of us who didn’t run down to the beaches to catch the last rays of Indian Summer sunshine were treated to a ghost-town oasis in one of the most bustling cities in Latin America. An empty Baires is strange. It’s like running down Times Square with Tome Cruise in Vanilla Sky. There is no pollution, no traffic, no noise. Just wide empty streets and an eerie breeze catching the trees.

We decided to hop on over to San Telmo, one of the oldest, most bohemian neighbourhoods in the city. Every weekend it is host to an antiques market, very similar to Saturday market day in London’s Notting Hill. We perused gaucho stands, leather boutiques and coffee shops decades old. Time travel in a city suspended in the in-betweens.

{ 2 comments }