Learning experiences

Last night we arrived in Montevideo, where we will likely spend the next couple of days. We are staying with a friend in the beautiful green, peaceful neighbourhood 'El Prado', a far cry from busy downtown Buenos Aires. The rumble of thunder threatens rain, so we will stay put for a while - a good chance to catch up on some writing. Later, we will take the bus into town, most importantly to change some money, quite likely a much more regular process than in Buenos Aires ...

Argentina's economy has changed considerably since we were here last time, about four years ago – and not to the better. Then, it was still possible to get money from bank machines without disadvantage. This is no longer so.

With high inflation and a very unstable economy it is advisable to bring US dollars instead of using money machines. Johann reasoned that it would be a good idea to have smaller bills to pay taxi drivers, hostels etc., and little did we know that this would prove to be a hindrance rather than a help.

The official ('white') exchange rate paid at the bank is about 8.5:1, and the staff at the Estoril told us that on the 'blue' market we could expect an exchange rate of up to 13:1. They directed us to 'Florida', the main pedestrian street where visitors and Porteños alike flock to do their shopping. This, they said, was the place to go to change money.

We hadn't even quite reached Florida when we were approached for the first time, that time only realizing moments later that the man saying something to us in passing wasn't selling papers but pesos. We entered the stream of shoppers on Florida and soon heard 'cambio, cambio' or 'dolares, dolares' every few metres. We stopped to talk to a couple of the callers – men or women, well dressed, not at all trying to hide what they are doing although it is most certainly not quite legal -, the amounts offered increasing from about 12:1 to 12.5:1, even 13:1. The first question always was how much money we wanted to exchange: the more money the better the exchange rate would be, understandably. The next item of interest was the denomination of the bills. Here, we soon found, we would have fared better if we had brought one hundred dollar bills instead of twenties or even tens.

An older man was willing to give us 12.5 to 1. He pointed to a kiosk in the middle of the pedestrian zone, a couple of metres away, and indicated that the transaction would take place in there. He did not want to see our money – while this business is as common as selling shoes or newspapers and seems to be quietly accepted, if not sanctioned by the police some rules still apply. After a few minutes a couple emerged from the interior of the newspaper kiosk, and we were ushered in. Here, a narrow space, barely wide enough for one person, extended the length of the kiosk. A man was waiting for us there, beckoned for Johann to move closer to him so that I wouldn't be visible through the entrance from the outside. He carefully counted out the money in 100 and 50-peso notes, and we proceeded to check every bill for obvious signs of falseness. Argentinians do this habitually and almost in passing, but for us it was a rather tedious process of holding each note against the light, hoping that we would recognize a fake bill. What were we looking for? The guy at the hostel had told us to first check that the vertical silver stripe appeared solid against the light, that the paper feels more substantial than just regular paper (which, in really bad fakes, is all that's used), and the watermark is a recognizable face, not just a blur. Our money exchanger showed us that hair, beard or clothes of people depicted on real bills were embossed. We made our way back to the hostel, satisfied with our transaction.

Twice more we visited 'Florida' for that purpose during our visit, and if we had thought the first exchange was remarkable we soon found out that we had probably only grasped the very basics of this intricate business. The second time we were caught in a downpour. People were crowding under protruding roofs and in entrances to banks and businesses, and still a few hardy young guys stood in the middle of the street, umbrella in hand, calling out their 'dolares, dolares'. We soon were successful in our quest and were now guided to a building housing small businesses like barber shops, small restaurants, bakeries, etc. This young man spoke English reasonably well and told us that he was working with his uncle. When Johann negotiated the conditions of the sale a few policemen were standing only a couple of metres away. 'Aren't you worried about the police?' Johann asked. 'No', the guy replied, 'my uncle pays $100/week to the police, so they leave him alone.' ...

The next day Johann went out on his own (obviously we needed more money than we had originally planned), and this time the woman he talked to led him to an even more obscure place, through hallways, up an elevator, into a small office where the transaction took place. He left with the money – and a business card which contained only a first name, but a couple of phone numbers: serious business, this money exchange. Where else would one find that people would print cards for illegal businesses?

Not only tourists need the service, however, but Argentine people as well. Understandably, larger transactions are usually done in dollars instead of pesos – and often in cash-, and when they want to travel anywhere abroad they need dollars as well since the peso is such a soft currency. The government only allows a small portion of the income to be exchanged officially, which has led to a thriving black money market.