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April 30, 2004 Top Ten Best Things About Argentina:
OK, so despite the argentinian plug here, I've gotta tell you this story about what happened yesterday. Still blowing me away.... So I'm driving along, and I come across one of the many police checkpoints down here. this one is pretty much way out in the middle of nowhere. as i recall, it was at the official provincial border of san juan. no town, no city, just a checkpoint. this is of course no problem. it's a routine stop, they ask for your papers, check for fruits and vegetables, etc. and then you carry on your way. i've hit 5 stops like this already just in the drive today alone. But this guy also asks for my argentinian seguro card (seguro means insurance here). Hmm... i don't have one--and not only that, but its the first time since entering argentina that i've been asked for it. Immediately I know that argentina must be one of the countries that requires it--but when i crossed the border and went through the whole process with the aduana and the policia and so forth last week, they never mentioned it. Most countries down here don't require insurance, and my insurance from the states is no good here. How was I supposed to know? If you're supposed to have insurance, they should tell you so before they give you your official permission, and officially stamped and authorized paperwork at the border, no? So anyway, I still have my US insurance card. Maybe that will work.. i mean it isn't officially good down here in Argentina, but what the hell, it is an insurance card! However, the only problem is that the card that i have shows my insurance as being expired as of last year. I just don't have the current card with me--after all I wasn't expecting to need it until Jesse hit American soil again. Well despite the fact that my old insurance card is in english, this guy catches the expired expiration date and this immediately seems to be a problem. I get waved off the road, so that folks behind me can pass, and asked to step out of the vehicle. (And isn't that about the point at which you know you're really in fucking trouble? Are there any more potent and emotionally charged lines than 'Can you step out of the vehicle, sir.' ) Long about then, the boss cop comes out of the little hut right there. He is wearing dark wayfarer shades which during this whole process, he never takes off. Boss cop immediately comes on with an attitude. The insurance thing is a problem--don't i know that i'm supposed to have a valid insurance card? of course, ignorance of the law is never an excuse. and well, i probably would have been better off not showing the expired US insurance card in the first place and pleading innocent, because pleading innocent now about not being asked for the insurance card at the border seems to lack an air of genuineness. Obviously at some point along the way i knew insurance was important and i have apparently let it lapse. It also doesn't obviously seem very credible that the insurance is in fact still valid... i mean hey, my papers are out of date. So boss cop takes my papers and goes off back to the hut for about 10 minutes. After a bit he returns and asks me to come back with him. He immediately launches in to a "this is really gonna be a big problem" kind of a routine. Lots of sighing, long pauses between sentences, lots of head shaking as he reviews my paperwork for the umpteenth time, etc. etc. I try my best to play my part too.... the concerned foreigner, unaware that he's broken a law, only want to do the right thing, how can we work this out, etc. etc. I make best efforts to keep the smile and the underlying mirth at the total hilarity of this time-worn dance out of my countenance, and i do a pretty damn good job. I remind you, this whole time he's wearing the sunglasses and it's not real bright in this little hut. I start to wonder whether this has been taking so long because he's having a hard time reading my documents on account of the poor visibility. Overall I have to admit that at this point I'm a little surprised. I mean the argentinians have been so sweet up until this point, and the country is obviously more advanced. It just doesn't have the feel of a place where bribing the local officials is the way of life, and yet I'm sure that i can see the setup coming a mile away. I mean after all, where else is all this going. I keep listening for the magic word to filter through his rapid argentine spanish slurry, but when i finally hear it, its a bit of a surprise. He explains that his back is up against the wall on this one because of course I cannot continue from this point without insurance. It's the law. And he pulls out a well worn, dog-eared copy of the argentine traffic code and begins to find the appropriate section. I stop him before he even gets there.... what's the point, right? I believe him, I tell him... please continue with the explanation. well he says. the problem is that the only place to get insurance is at an approved national insurance office. There is one in San Juan 30km behind, and in Mendoza, 70km further on. But these offices are only open Monday-Friday, 9am-3pm. Guess what? Wouldn't you know, it's Friday... 3:15pm. Well, gosh darn. 'Moreover', he begins. there is a fine associated with the infraction that i have already committed by driving without the proper insurance. and since he cannot accept payment for infractions here, i am also going to have to travel to get that taken care of as well. i will have to go to san juan to pay this fine. also, of course, the office for the traffic department in san juan is closed as well. This is the point at which i just about lose my cool--where my jaw nearly drops open and a low slow drip of drool just about exits the corner of my mouth. I mean, this whole act, with the build up, the lengthy preamble, the beautiful delivery ... god damnit, let me fume for a minute here, gimme just a second..... you mean this oscar-quality, small-town crooked cop routine has been all for naught? what's going on here? my mind is in a turmoil. i am out-of-context, looking for a recognizable symbol to gain mental purchase ... i need a friggin' toe-hold here! i recompute the situation with this most recent data:
The little whirring noise in my brain stops, and a piece of paper ejects from the side of the machine:
But the big question floating around my head is: why? why is this man choosing to enforce the law to this degree when it is obviously easily within his discretion to simply overlook the matter? He does not appear to be motivated by money. OK. So what do i do? instead of objecting, i decide to play the situation by pressing it to the hilt. First and foremost i want to know if my analysis is right. After all, my interpretation of events has only been possible at all through the lens of a limited spanish vocabulary with a person whose native tongue is only through the graciousness of the international community recognized as being spanish. it's comparable to someone in wales claiming that they speak english. I decide that the best card to play is the willingness to spend the weekend there. He raises an eyebrow behind the ever-so-dark sunglasses. You would be willing to do that he asks?
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