¡Hola! From Buenos Aires

Where Small Change Costs You Big

Jetlag and the beginnings of a cold set the pace for the first few days in Buenos Aires. Long walks were in order, and soon, the surrounding blocks became well trod and familiar. Cute squares bordered by eateries were stages for tango dancers, and a predictable chill blew through the store fronts of  Avenida Florida, pulling scarves across the pink cheeks of faceless woollen coats.

We landed on a local bus to the barrio of Boca in a moment of impulsive whimsey. Our befuddlement at their local public transport custom was cured by the gesticulation and simplified Spanish of the bus' patrons. We learned that buses carried coin-operated ticket machines, and nothing jingled in our pockets. Some lovely local women took pity on the silly tourists and offered change for our two peso notes. We took our seats, peering through the windows as we waited for the colourful buildings of Boca to come into view.

Boca was not immediately recognisable because of its block of charmingly painted buildings, but for the activity of tourists on its streets. We joined them as they admired various art pieces for sale and a scattering of street performers. A strategic coffee and light meal at a café resulted in a purse full of valuable change for the return trip to the hostel, and we relaxed enough to enjoy the tango playing out before us. Our relief was short-lived. A tip hat was passed from patron to patron, and we watched it slowly make its way towards us, growing heavier with coins and our dismay. Were we to donate our coins, the small change that was so carefully secured? Were we to offer, as reluctantly, a large note, too generous so early in our long trip?

The hat was in our laps.

The bus trip to the hostel was uneventful and quiet as we ruminated on what we had learned: small change can be very expensive.