Airport problems

Well we were on our way to Iguazu Falls, got into the plane and then things started to go awry. In the time we spent waiting in planes and airports, we read a lot of Borges and I think there must be an Argentine term like Borgesque that is the parallel of Kafkaesque for what we experienced yesterday. Smoke, mirrors and confusion with bravery camaraderie and stoicism.

At first we were told there would be a small delay while waiting on the plane ready to take off. Then a change of crew and then after 3 hours they gave up and herded us onto the cattle train and allowed us to wait in the airport corral.

People started playing games, grumbling, arguing, sleeping, eating and looked vainly at the boards which just flashed red "See Agent". I have to comment at this point that all PA announcements were in an incomprehensible Spanish. I kept hearing "San Fernando" and wondered why he had been singled out all the time but later found out that this was the name of the area. At length this was given up as well and they found the best solution to all their problems was just to cancel all flights at the same time.

One solution lots of problems but not for them. Now to try and find our luggage. Borgesque (now meaning lots of activity with minimal results) means that here bags were tossed in piles anywhere where there was room. Sheer bedlam as people ran around trying to find their luggage, conveyors stopped working, staff invisible, old people bewildered. I thought that we would never see our bags again. Maureen had put a pink ribbon on her bag to make it stand out but you wouldn't believe how many other people had thought that that was unique. I leaped from conveyor to conveyor like a gazelle while the crowds milled around the floor like a herd of wildebeests. After an hour we found the bags ! together! so off we go to find out what was happening.

Clusters of people approximating lines of about 3 miles long had already formed but the problem now was working out which line do we follow? Maureen stationed herself on one with the bags while I went to front to find out what was going on. It turned to to be the line for Aerolineas which was the wrong one but then in frustration I searched out a English speaking journo from the cameras that had already set up to find what the hell was happening. Must have crossed the cameras a dozen times (Mami did you see me?). The journo lady told me that there were "communication problemos" and in relief I amost kissed her (quite normal around here).

We finally found the right line but finding the end of it was a problem.It went on...and on...past another set of doors where it lost definition and then there was another line but not sure at this point if it was the same one. I think we actually pushed in somewhere because of the confusion but noone challenged us.

At this stage I'd like to comment on how disciplined and well behaved people were here. I thought there would be a riot (I would have been at the head like Joan of Arc) but queues formed for miles and miles whilst at most 3 people at the desk tried to help each group at the head of the queue. A Hasidic Jew ambled up and down looking for an opportunity to jump the queue. He finally did and got attended to heading for the promised land well before us. He wouldn't have got in ahead of Maureen who has a very British sense of fair play and queuing.

Let me now tell you about Jorge who waited the 6 hours behind us. Most of the time, he looked after our stuff and we looked after his stuff as we attended to laptops, calls of nature and phone as it slowly dawned on us that we were going nowhere soon and that LAN did not accept any responsibility and we were on our own. Jorge is a young cardiologist who had come to BA for the day to get a document for his application to get a position in a hospital in Canada. He didn't trust the post so had flown in from Mendoza to do the paperwork and then fly back. He was supposed to operate on his uncle on the next day, installing a pacemaker. The uncle had a temporary pacemaker but if left, could be a source of infection so he was very worried. He as a number of jobs including working for free for underprivileged people but said that he just wanted to get away from Argentina. My mobile phone could not register on a network so Jorge loaned us his phone so that we could ring our hotel and see if we could get a room for the night. Ok now we had somewhere to sleep. People were starting to find places to sleep on the floor for the night, children were crying but bit by bit our line inched forward.

After 6 hours we got to the head of the queue and we were offered a flight for Friday (it was Monday) so I just asked for a refund. Well, God be praised they said OK. Jorge translated for us (bless him) and the women started typing stuff out on her PC slowly, many interruptions from other people, got up to open the door for a co-worker, paper jam on printer, get up clear paper jam (so that's why the line moved so slowly!) more typing, someone came over and murmured in her ear (God know what she was typing) and then presented me with the required papers for insurance etc that we needed.


Anyway, to cut this story short, after a taxi ride through BA at breakneck speeds, impossible to locate such luxuries as seat belts, we dropped Jorge off at his friends place with promises to let him show us around Mendoza when we get there and then a big fight with the taxi driver (Maureen had to place herself between us) we arrived in our hotel to have supper and so to bed (Samuel Pepys diary) . Thank God we could get a booking at the hotel !!!

Well more adventures today on the bus.