3.8 pesos to the dollar

I thought today was going to be a good day.

I hadn´t slept all that well; a huge storm hit Rosario last night and woke everyone up with hours of lightnight, thunder, and pounding rain. But I had woken up when I was supposed to, drank my cup of Mate, and left early enough to get to Western Union and still make it to class on time.

To say that I´ve had a few technical difficulties would be like saying Allie (the dog, not you Ally Stevenson) has only a few behavior problems. It´s a straight out lie. Ever since that flight was cancelled, very little has gone my way. Someone got all of my bank information and tried to pass a fake check through my account mere days before I left. Key bank closed the account and overnighted me a new card, so I thought I would be set for the trip. But, when I tried to use the new card, it didn´t work. And I found out they had accidently closed that account too. So, a half hour before I left for the airport my family and I dashed to key bank to get a temporary ATM cardd until they were able to ship me a new one.
¨Don´t worry!¨They promised, white teeth gleaming, button down shirts pressed and spotless. ¨Key bank does it´s best to serve our customers and we guarentee this card will work wherever they take mastercard or cirrus!¨

Liars.

In fact, as I was doomed to find out, no where in South America takes temporary ATM cards. Not even at the airport. Not at the currency exchange. Not at the HSBC or Citi Bank.

¨Well Lizzie, you have that credit card you always charge impulse buys at Urban Outfitters too! Use that!¨you exclaim to your computer screen.

Sorry, apparently South America doesn´t take those either. En serio, in the week that I´ve been here, I´ve only been able to use my credit card in two places: the cell phone store and a school supplies outlet store. No restaurants take them. No supermarkets. No stores of any kind take credit cards. Everyone takes pesos, and the money I had exchanged in Dallas was gone after I bought my bus ticket to Rosario.

So I´ve been penniless. Totally. Which is partly why I´ve been able to write in this blog so much. Every day I have to come and call my parents via Skype to try to brainstorm what to do. Finally we decided on wiring money, which is one of those things you´ve always heard of , but have no idea how to do.

Friday they sent it, and Friday I went to the Western Unions. Only to find out, they´re closed. All of them. For the weekend.

Meanwhile, I´ve bought a cell phone. But it doesn´t work. I´m the only person in my program who has had any sort of problem with my phone. I cant get ahold of anyone I know, and even if I could, I can´t even afford a Taxi to get to them.

Luckily, luckily, luckily, I´ve had Veronika and Devin. They´ve been lending me money and walking me to Phone kiosks and Western Unions and ATMs and helping me when the Argentine salespeople won´t. They´ve been incredible, absolutely lifesaving. And, my parents have been more than willing to spend hours on the phone with the imbeciles at Key and Western Union. I would be a homeless weirdo with black street dog as a pet without them.

So, back to today. I thought it would be great. It´s Monday! The banks are open! I can finally get money and pay Vero y Devi the huge stack of bills I owe them. My phone was finally working, and I was going to end my 5 day spell of poverty.

Angel met me at the corner of Sarmiento and Cordoba, and we walked the six blocks to the Western Bank.

Attempt 1: 800 AM
Bank has not recieved it´s money yet. It cannot cover $300 that I need. I go to class.
Attempt 2: 1030 AM with Vero
I need a password, a money transaction number that I was not told I needed. They CANNOT do the transaction without the number. I call my dad. Find the number
Attemt 3: 1130 AM with Vero
The Bank has run out of all the money. Try later.
Attemt 4: 200PM with Spanish speaking teacher from school
I figure out now they just aren´t helping me because I´m American. We go. The man won´t help me because the order says its for ¨Elizabeth JD Falconer¨ and my 3 seperate pieces of ID say Elizabeth J Falconer. Please tell me how you explain, in Spanish, that in the US sometimes they only have one box for your middle name and your parents decided to give you two?
Attempt 5: 330 PM
I walk the 15 blocks back to my house trying to wipe the tears of frusteration from my eyes. My host mom sees me and hugs me and then insists that I wear more clothes because it´s 55 degrees outside and one coat and a scarf can not be enough. I grab my passport, now wearing one jacket of mine and one of Marcela´s, hail a cab, and finally am helped at another Western Union.

As some people in the program like to joke, I have the worst luck in the world. It´s been tough. Besides the money and phone problems, I´ve had two seperate restaurants forget my order and have left me sitting for hours, waiting. I´ve had problems with classes and transfer credit. Hell, it´s an ordeal opening a door here because the keys are so different.

But the more I talk to people the more I´m understanding that this is all part of the experience. At one point or another (and sometimes more intense for some people) everything falls apart when you study abroad. It´s about learning how to communicate even when you´re not comfortable, in a language that doesn´t really make sense to your ears. It´s about making friends that can say, ¨It´s only a temporary problem¨when you´ve just cried for 15 blocks in a foreign city and the people were looking at you like you´re the weirdest thing they´ve ever seen (which you are). And what I´m focusing on is that I´m here, in this ridiculously beautiful city, speaking Spanish and having a really great time. Because I am.

Rosario -minus the bank tellers- is a dream come true.