November 17, 12:58 AM, somewhere between Buenos Aires and Cordoba
“When You Look Like Your Passport Photo, It’s Time to Go Home… Or, at Least to Córdoba”
Thank you, Erma Bombeck – nothing could sum up my day any better…
So, where to begin? I suppose we should go back to Saturday night, the Grand Finale concert for the Buenos Aires portion of our festival tour. All of the bands, international and local, had a chance to perform one last time for the Porteños before either returning home or traveling on to Córdoba and Mendoza. We were picked up at the hotel at about 5pm, allowing 2 hours until “start time,” which by now I’ve learned to put in quotes… We were playing at the Planetarium park, and when we got there we saw a stage (a relief, if you’ve heard our Obelisk concert story) and a bunch of people milling about. We ran into Kia’s mom, Barb, and her traveling companions, and shamelessly took advantage of them by making them watch all of our stuff while we hunted for food. I had crackers.
I have to take a small aside here to tell you about the trees in Argentina (or at least BA) – they remind me of the banyan trees in Hawaii (Maui) – the roots grow upwards like miniature mountain ranges, and all sorts of crevices, crooks and crannies form into mysterious shapes – a monkey, an old woman… Mairead and Fiona are both expert tree climbers, so these trees are like getting the chance to drive a Bentley... (or in my case, a Karmann Ghia – OR, a Citroën! Our concert coincided with the 95th? Anniversary of the Frenchmobile, and there were a parade of them on display)
Needless to say, things were a little “behind schedule,” to the extent that Kia, Geoff, Matt, Dave and I went to a café for a while and I had the world’s nastiest, fishiest tuna sandwich. AND, when we ordered our wine, the waitress had to go to a store and BUY it for us! She snuck back in with the bottle in a plastic bag, but Geoff saw her.
ANYway, eventually we performed and it really was fantastic. Now we can officially say that Yid Vicious has performed to live fireworks for a writhing mosh pit!!! It was an excellent lesson in the art of listening… (Imagine trying to play in 7 to the rhythm of sporadic explosions!)
After the concert, the organizers (darlings Pedro, Alejandro, Federico) announced that we would be taken to a farewell party. Cool! It was after 1:00 AM but we were all wired because of the energy of it all. So off to the club/bar we go. We settle in, get our drinks (one free) and start to relax and celebrate. Pedro gave us all gift bags, we laughed, took pictures, visited with other bands, etc. At some point Pedro asked us if we would like to play (there’s a stage at the club), and I noticed a sound guy setting up mikes. Now, I love playing, and we were all high on the last performance, but at this point I think we were all knackered and not particularly in the mood to get out our horns again… But, of course, after a few more drinks the idea seemed more appealing. Especially after the Mames serenaded their trumpet player (Leonardo Di Caprio) and his date (someone he met a few days earlier, I think? – Thursday, actually, because that’s why he wasn’t at the jam session). So eventually we all ended up playing some more and jamming with musicians from other bands. Good times!
Finally we’re told it’s time to leave – after all, we hadn’t even gotten there until after 1:00AM. So at about 4:30 AM or so, we collectively hailed cabs – I squeezed in with Matt, Kia, and Geoff. We get back to our hotel, and the first thing I do is fall flat on my face. According to Kia, it was “spectacular.” A full-on face-splat. Now, while it is true that I had had a few gin and tonics at this point, I have to give the Argentinian streets and sidewalks their due. Not only is this city inaccessible to the disabled, it CREATES more disabled people it won’t cater to! Because surely, given that I’ve already fallen 4 times (or 5?), these thoroughfares must maim people on a regular basis. And if they don’t, the cabbies will…. (Although, actually, they have remarkably quick reflexes and I’ve yet to see any actual crashes – just lots of almosts…) By the time I made it to bed, the sun was rising (not something I see too often).
So, Sunday morning I wake up with a nauseous feeling. I realize I do not have my purse. I look everywhere. Matt’s not with me (my Matt, Sintchak) to miraculously find it, and my frantic searching is in vain. NO PURSE. Now, this wouldn’t be such a big deal if it meant that I just lost the 300 pesos I had in there (I mean, that would have sucked, but not AS bad). It even wouldn’t have been a total nightmare if I had only lost my wallet, with my credit and bank cards and drivers license in there. Easily cancelled and renewed. What made it a disaster was that my passport was in it. YAY! And, of course, I managed to forget to copy my passport before I left (being caught up in grant hell).
So, here’s how things went down…
First, I had the hotel call the place – they were closed. I had the hotel keep calling, and they kept being closed. Eventually, Kia and Geoff walked with me over to the place to see for ourselves – of course, closed. But we tried the hostel that it is connected to, and the concierge offered to look for us, since he had a key. No bag. But he said they had a safe, so it could have been found and placed in there. So, check back tomorrow – they open at 9AM (it’s a café too). Still marginally hopeful, I give up for the night and go to sleep early. (But not early enough – I still had to pack all of my crap for our trip to Cordoba, b/c we would be checking out of our hotel by 10am the next day). So, Monday morning, 9am sharp – I ask the hotel guy to call again, and he finally reaches someone. But, alas, no bag. I took a cab there myself anyway, to see if somehow there was a mistake and it was really there… I begged with them to check again, but, no bag. YAY! So I dejectedly go back to the hotel using the rest of Kia’s borrowed money for the cab. Now things kick into high gear. First, I have to deal with checking out of the hotel. Then I have to deal with all of the cancellations – credit cards, bank cards, etc. Then I have to find out what’s involved in getting a new passport – so I had to get my dad to fax a copy of my birth certificate to the hotel. Kia had to take me to the police station to file a report, because this is part of the required paperwork when you are replacing a stolen passport.
The police station… maybe I should have Kia write about that. Suffice it to say, it was very surreal… The employees were actually HAPPY. Flirty, jokey, warm. WEIRD. AND, there was religious paraphernalia everywhere – a cross, a mini-shrine… Also, the “line-lady” was pretty cool – somewhat arbitrary decisions about who’s next based on the way the wind blew… When we got up there, we quickly found that our situation was more than Kia’s (good) and my (horrible) Spanish put together, so we had to have an interpreter. Meanwhile, the rest of the line is stuck waiting for the guy; nobody gets to go in front of me while they find the translator. Good for me, sucked for them… Oh, and the last detail was that the mascot in the middle of the policeman’s patch was nothing other than: a ROOSTER! Wow.
So, documents in hand, I meet up with Greg and Anna, who take over the babysitting shift so Geoff and Kia can do something else… I didn’t want the whole band to have to deal with this stuff all day… So Anna takes me to a photo place where I can get passport photos – and at this point I have 45 minutes until the Embassy closes for the day. Naturally, the photo place takes FOR-EVER. Eventually Anna wisely advises me to take a cab separately so I can at least get my foot in the door before 4pm (tough life, those embassy workers). So, I beg the cabbie to take me to the embassy muy pronto. He kicked it into high gear (higher than normal) and I had the 2nd best cab ride since I’ve been here (the best being with Kia in La Boca a few days before) – 2 near-crashes with pedestrians, 3 near-crashes with cars… And it took forever to get there because of course we were stuck in Rush hour traffic in the middle of the country’s largest city. Lovely.
So I make it to the embassy, explain to the security people that Anna’s coming (I described her to them, assuring them that they wouldn’t have any trouble recognizing her). Off to the passport renewal place, get my number, sit and wait. Finally, I’m called, and at first the lady isn’t exactly friendly. She said it was too late, the cashier was closed. I begged and pleaded and she said she’d wait only as long as it took me to fill out the necessary forms. I filled them out as slowly as possible, and just when I thought she was going to roll down the blinds for good, Anna bursts through the door. I needed her to complete the transaction because she had the photos and also the money (you have to pay $100). Finally, all seems good to go. But WAIT! There’s MORE!
It turns out we’re FOUR PESOS short. No flexibility with these people. No kind, charitable hearts. Four pesos, or no passport. Clocks ticking. Desperate, I resort to begging. Not to her, who was immovable. But to the fellow saps waiting on their own lines. Fortunately, since I looked even WORSE than I had in my new passport photo from earlier that afternoon, I was a pretty pathetic sight and earned some sympathy points from 3 people (a peso here, 2 there, etc).
So, at LAST. Alll done! Wait some more, then passport’s ready, and I can finally breathe.
Anna, meanwhile, is calling someone to bail us out of our cab fare – we now have no money to get back to our hotel, which is quite far – need someone to meet us there. Mid cab-ride, Anna realizes she has more money tucked away somewhere that she had forgotten bout, so that’s good (whew). Then, she –gasps – she can’t find HER passport. Panic ensues. But fortunately, it only lasted a few minutes, because she finally found it tucked away in a corner of her bag. GOD!!! After this, we headed to a brew pub where the rest of the band was waiting for us, and I had the most well-earned, well-deserved beer of my life (and Anna, wisely, chose something stronger. She did just save my ass, after all).
And so the story ends… I somehow made it on the bus to Cordoba with everyone else, instead of being stuck behind dealing with passport stuff, flying or bussing seperately, etc.
“When You Look Like Your Passport Photo, It’s Time to Go Home… Or, at Least to Córdoba”
Thank you, Erma Bombeck – nothing could sum up my day any better…
So, where to begin? I suppose we should go back to Saturday night, the Grand Finale concert for the Buenos Aires portion of our festival tour. All of the bands, international and local, had a chance to perform one last time for the Porteños before either returning home or traveling on to Córdoba and Mendoza. We were picked up at the hotel at about 5pm, allowing 2 hours until “start time,” which by now I’ve learned to put in quotes… We were playing at the Planetarium park, and when we got there we saw a stage (a relief, if you’ve heard our Obelisk concert story) and a bunch of people milling about. We ran into Kia’s mom, Barb, and her traveling companions, and shamelessly took advantage of them by making them watch all of our stuff while we hunted for food. I had crackers.
I have to take a small aside here to tell you about the trees in Argentina (or at least BA) – they remind me of the banyan trees in Hawaii (Maui) – the roots grow upwards like miniature mountain ranges, and all sorts of crevices, crooks and crannies form into mysterious shapes – a monkey, an old woman… Mairead and Fiona are both expert tree climbers, so these trees are like getting the chance to drive a Bentley... (or in my case, a Karmann Ghia – OR, a Citroën! Our concert coincided with the 95th? Anniversary of the Frenchmobile, and there were a parade of them on display)
Needless to say, things were a little “behind schedule,” to the extent that Kia, Geoff, Matt, Dave and I went to a café for a while and I had the world’s nastiest, fishiest tuna sandwich. AND, when we ordered our wine, the waitress had to go to a store and BUY it for us! She snuck back in with the bottle in a plastic bag, but Geoff saw her.
ANYway, eventually we performed and it really was fantastic. Now we can officially say that Yid Vicious has performed to live fireworks for a writhing mosh pit!!! It was an excellent lesson in the art of listening… (Imagine trying to play in 7 to the rhythm of sporadic explosions!)
After the concert, the organizers (darlings Pedro, Alejandro, Federico) announced that we would be taken to a farewell party. Cool! It was after 1:00 AM but we were all wired because of the energy of it all. So off to the club/bar we go. We settle in, get our drinks (one free) and start to relax and celebrate. Pedro gave us all gift bags, we laughed, took pictures, visited with other bands, etc. At some point Pedro asked us if we would like to play (there’s a stage at the club), and I noticed a sound guy setting up mikes. Now, I love playing, and we were all high on the last performance, but at this point I think we were all knackered and not particularly in the mood to get out our horns again… But, of course, after a few more drinks the idea seemed more appealing. Especially after the Mames serenaded their trumpet player (Leonardo Di Caprio) and his date (someone he met a few days earlier, I think? – Thursday, actually, because that’s why he wasn’t at the jam session). So eventually we all ended up playing some more and jamming with musicians from other bands. Good times!
Finally we’re told it’s time to leave – after all, we hadn’t even gotten there until after 1:00AM. So at about 4:30 AM or so, we collectively hailed cabs – I squeezed in with Matt, Kia, and Geoff. We get back to our hotel, and the first thing I do is fall flat on my face. According to Kia, it was “spectacular.” A full-on face-splat. Now, while it is true that I had had a few gin and tonics at this point, I have to give the Argentinian streets and sidewalks their due. Not only is this city inaccessible to the disabled, it CREATES more disabled people it won’t cater to! Because surely, given that I’ve already fallen 4 times (or 5?), these thoroughfares must maim people on a regular basis. And if they don’t, the cabbies will…. (Although, actually, they have remarkably quick reflexes and I’ve yet to see any actual crashes – just lots of almosts…) By the time I made it to bed, the sun was rising (not something I see too often).
So, Sunday morning I wake up with a nauseous feeling. I realize I do not have my purse. I look everywhere. Matt’s not with me (my Matt, Sintchak) to miraculously find it, and my frantic searching is in vain. NO PURSE. Now, this wouldn’t be such a big deal if it meant that I just lost the 300 pesos I had in there (I mean, that would have sucked, but not AS bad). It even wouldn’t have been a total nightmare if I had only lost my wallet, with my credit and bank cards and drivers license in there. Easily cancelled and renewed. What made it a disaster was that my passport was in it. YAY! And, of course, I managed to forget to copy my passport before I left (being caught up in grant hell).
So, here’s how things went down…
First, I had the hotel call the place – they were closed. I had the hotel keep calling, and they kept being closed. Eventually, Kia and Geoff walked with me over to the place to see for ourselves – of course, closed. But we tried the hostel that it is connected to, and the concierge offered to look for us, since he had a key. No bag. But he said they had a safe, so it could have been found and placed in there. So, check back tomorrow – they open at 9AM (it’s a café too). Still marginally hopeful, I give up for the night and go to sleep early. (But not early enough – I still had to pack all of my crap for our trip to Cordoba, b/c we would be checking out of our hotel by 10am the next day). So, Monday morning, 9am sharp – I ask the hotel guy to call again, and he finally reaches someone. But, alas, no bag. I took a cab there myself anyway, to see if somehow there was a mistake and it was really there… I begged with them to check again, but, no bag. YAY! So I dejectedly go back to the hotel using the rest of Kia’s borrowed money for the cab. Now things kick into high gear. First, I have to deal with checking out of the hotel. Then I have to deal with all of the cancellations – credit cards, bank cards, etc. Then I have to find out what’s involved in getting a new passport – so I had to get my dad to fax a copy of my birth certificate to the hotel. Kia had to take me to the police station to file a report, because this is part of the required paperwork when you are replacing a stolen passport.
The police station… maybe I should have Kia write about that. Suffice it to say, it was very surreal… The employees were actually HAPPY. Flirty, jokey, warm. WEIRD. AND, there was religious paraphernalia everywhere – a cross, a mini-shrine… Also, the “line-lady” was pretty cool – somewhat arbitrary decisions about who’s next based on the way the wind blew… When we got up there, we quickly found that our situation was more than Kia’s (good) and my (horrible) Spanish put together, so we had to have an interpreter. Meanwhile, the rest of the line is stuck waiting for the guy; nobody gets to go in front of me while they find the translator. Good for me, sucked for them… Oh, and the last detail was that the mascot in the middle of the policeman’s patch was nothing other than: a ROOSTER! Wow.
So, documents in hand, I meet up with Greg and Anna, who take over the babysitting shift so Geoff and Kia can do something else… I didn’t want the whole band to have to deal with this stuff all day… So Anna takes me to a photo place where I can get passport photos – and at this point I have 45 minutes until the Embassy closes for the day. Naturally, the photo place takes FOR-EVER. Eventually Anna wisely advises me to take a cab separately so I can at least get my foot in the door before 4pm (tough life, those embassy workers). So, I beg the cabbie to take me to the embassy muy pronto. He kicked it into high gear (higher than normal) and I had the 2nd best cab ride since I’ve been here (the best being with Kia in La Boca a few days before) – 2 near-crashes with pedestrians, 3 near-crashes with cars… And it took forever to get there because of course we were stuck in Rush hour traffic in the middle of the country’s largest city. Lovely.
So I make it to the embassy, explain to the security people that Anna’s coming (I described her to them, assuring them that they wouldn’t have any trouble recognizing her). Off to the passport renewal place, get my number, sit and wait. Finally, I’m called, and at first the lady isn’t exactly friendly. She said it was too late, the cashier was closed. I begged and pleaded and she said she’d wait only as long as it took me to fill out the necessary forms. I filled them out as slowly as possible, and just when I thought she was going to roll down the blinds for good, Anna bursts through the door. I needed her to complete the transaction because she had the photos and also the money (you have to pay $100). Finally, all seems good to go. But WAIT! There’s MORE!
It turns out we’re FOUR PESOS short. No flexibility with these people. No kind, charitable hearts. Four pesos, or no passport. Clocks ticking. Desperate, I resort to begging. Not to her, who was immovable. But to the fellow saps waiting on their own lines. Fortunately, since I looked even WORSE than I had in my new passport photo from earlier that afternoon, I was a pretty pathetic sight and earned some sympathy points from 3 people (a peso here, 2 there, etc).
So, at LAST. Alll done! Wait some more, then passport’s ready, and I can finally breathe.
Anna, meanwhile, is calling someone to bail us out of our cab fare – we now have no money to get back to our hotel, which is quite far – need someone to meet us there. Mid cab-ride, Anna realizes she has more money tucked away somewhere that she had forgotten bout, so that’s good (whew). Then, she –gasps – she can’t find HER passport. Panic ensues. But fortunately, it only lasted a few minutes, because she finally found it tucked away in a corner of her bag. GOD!!! After this, we headed to a brew pub where the rest of the band was waiting for us, and I had the most well-earned, well-deserved beer of my life (and Anna, wisely, chose something stronger. She did just save my ass, after all).
And so the story ends… I somehow made it on the bus to Cordoba with everyone else, instead of being stuck behind dealing with passport stuff, flying or bussing seperately, etc.
Poor Mel. Glad you survived the lost/stolen purse and passport ordeal. You have some good bandmates (and parents since they got to fax the birth certificate).
ReplyDelete--Kendra