Why Is This Strike Different From All Other Strikes

In the United States, we aren’t politically active.  We are passive, we like to sit, make angry Facebook posts about problems (slactivism), whine about how bad the government is and then not vote…the list goes on.  When the U.S. government shut down in October, I had the hardest time explaining the shutdown to Argentines.  “Why is there no government?” they’d ask.  “What does this mean?”  One of the coordinators of our study abroad group asked why there was not “fire and riots in the streets.” 

When Argentines strike, they go big.  So on April 10, they shut down the entire country.  The strike was announced a few weeks ahead of time, to allow for preparations.  Here is a list, by no means exhaustive, of what was shut down:

·      Subways

·      Trains

·      Buses

·      Gas stations

·      Truck drivers (which meant no deliveries to restaurants, grocery stores, cafes…)

·      Unionized restaurants

·      ATM restockers (banks were open, but when they ran out of money, they were done)

·      Free public bicycles

·      Flights within Argentina

·      International flights going out of Argentina (anything flying in was allowed to land)

·      Schools (technically open but not taking attendance)

·      Universities (University of Buenos Aires closed, Catholic Private University open but not taking attendance)

·      Trash collection

·      Ports

·      Courts

·      Butchers/stores that only sell red meat…

…And so on.  One of the news stations had a segment where people could tweet in their questions about the strike and what was going to be open.  (You used the hashtag #quierosaberdelparo, or I want to know about the strike.)  All day on Wednesday, the day before the strike, the news was constantly updating this list, adding in the groups that decided to participate.

The question that was most difficult for me to figure out was what the strike was about.  My understanding of strikes is that you shut down something as a negotiating tactic – we stop working at the auto plant until you raise our wages, for example.  After asking almost every Argentine I know to explain the strike, I finally got at least a small grasp of it. 

Screenshot from TV - on the left is Avenida 9 de Julio, allegedly the world's widest street, on a normal day, and on the right is the street the day of the strike.

To understand the strike, you have to understand the labor dynamics of Argentina and their relationship with the government and the economic reality of the country now.  Almost everything in the country is unionized and sub-unionized—there’s a union of bus drivers, but each bus line is its own union as well.  Each union wants to be the biggest to gain the most sway with the government to guarantee better pensions, more subsidies to their industry, and more influence with legislation.  They do this by fighting over groups of people; for example, there was a fight a few years back about whether people who deliver food to restaurants are part of the restaurant union or truck driver’s union (they went with the truck union).  There are different dynamics between leaders of different unions, too.  In economic terms, the Argentine peso devalued significantly at the beginning of the year, but workers’ wages did not increase accordingly.  The inflation in the country is incredibly high, preceded in the region by only Venezuela.

The essence of the strike was for a wage increase to ARS $9000 a month (about $900 a month using the black market pesos conversion rate), better guarantees of pensions, and the abolition of labor taxes (an income tax just on what you make working—remember Argentines hate taxes).  However, between the date the strike was announced and the strike, more demands started to be added.  I saw signs that said the strike was against “low minimum wage, inflation, and insecurity” and another sign how the strike was against “hunger.”  There was even a commercial on television a few days before the strike proclaiming the workers’ demands. 

It became clear to me that these demands are not something that the Argentine government, even if it were the best and most capable government in the world, would be able to fix quickly.  The strikers were upset about structural problems in the Argentine economy and daily realities of life.  The strike served to flex the political muscles of everyone involved—the union leaders were able to show their power to shut down the government, and the government threatened to cut off subsidies to the industries that participated in the strike.  Everyone wins?

In terms of what I did on this Thursday, my day was not drastically changed.  The gym was open, my favorite ice cream place was open, and I did homework in the park.  To me, it felt like a Sunday minus all the noise from traffic.  The woman I live with, Delfi, works at an international school and they cancelled classes as a precaution.  My boyfriend skateboarded to work because he didn’t want to “let the strikers win.”  His employer made lunch for all the employees who came and let them leave early. 

It’s too soon to tell what, if anything, has been achieved from the strike.  There’s still insecurity, hunger, and inflation for a great percentage of the Argentine population.  But in the nation’s political theater, maybe, just maybe, the tectonic plates of control have shifted, showing the new power in Argentina may lie with those working to keep it running. 

Brazil: First Impressions

I arrived in Brazil on Friday, and since then, I’ve been having a lot of cultural adjustment and shock.  From the beginning of December until the middle of February, I have been and will continue to be traveling and seeing new places (I promise I’ll return to the blog posts about my trip to Peru, Bolivia, and Chile soon!).  In the span of about 10 weeks, I will have been in six countries, spoken three languages, and lugged around way too many things.  While I love to travel and experience all the world has to offer, I do like a little bit of structure and predictability. 

I left Argentina Friday morning and flew to Rio de Janeiro for a month-long Portuguese language intensive.  The same people who run my Buenos Aires program, CIEE, run the program I am on, so I know what to expect on the management end.  Our program started Saturday morning, so Friday I had the afternoon to myself.  Like every time I go to a new place for an extended time, I am very upset and disoriented.  This is the first time I have travelled internationally on my own, meaning there was no one to get me from the airport and I didn’t know other people who were traveling.  While I am fully capable of getting a cab and finding my way by myself, it’s still a nerve-wracking experience to know that you are completely on your own if something goes wrong.  After a healthy dinner of passion fruit juice, a cheese croissant, and a churro filled with dulce de leche (I was missing Argentina), I was feeling slightly better. 

In my walk to eat, I went down to the beach and took note of what people were wearing.  I recently bought my first two-piece swimsuit in years in preparation for Brazil, but it appears it will not do—my bikini is still about 50% larger than all the other swimsuits I saw on both women and men.  It appears that one rouge wave could leave the entire beach naked. 

Group photo of almost everyone on my month-long study abroad program in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.   

Saturday morning I ventured over to the hotel that was hosting our orientation; this hotel was air-conditioned, a necessity in over 100-degree temperatures.  I started meeting the other students on the program, and started to feel a lot better.  We had sort of a general orientation to things in Brazil, and then we went out to a pizza place for dinner.  It appears Brazilians are into hardboiled eggs of all sizes on their pizza (Mom, you’ll have to come try some!), as well as delicious dessert pizzas with chocolate and strawberries.  Afterwards, I went with some other students to a bar—it wasn’t that I desperately wanted to go out on the first night, but I understand from my first few weeks in Argentina that the first days are key friendship-making time, so it’s important to put yourself out there in all of the activities. 

On Sunday we learned how to take public transportation and saw where we will be attending classes and the CIEE Study Center.  This study center is a definite improvement over the one in Buenos Aires for the mere fact that it has both a usable kitchen and hammocks.  In the evening, we were taken to our host families’ homes.  I am staying with another student, Hannah, in Copacabana with our host, Maria Amelia.  She is in her early or mid-sixties and used to teach gym classes. 

Maybe I have been spoiled with living with Delfi and having a really great homestay experience in Buenos Aires, but when we arrived at our apartment, it was clear that Lia (her nickname) wasn’t ready for our arrival.  I am staying in her room since I am only here for a month (she has moved to another small bedroom), and she hadn’t finished removing her items so there was a place for me to unpack.  She had wifi but didn’t know the password (she also suggested we go to the restaurant next door and ask if they knew how to make a new wifi- this does not make sense).  We had to ask for towels and where to put our stuff in the bathroom, she did not have keys for each of us, nor did she have any breakfast food for us to eat the next morning. 

None of these things in itself is a big problem, but all together, it was a little challenging personally.  I think knowing what a good and prepared homestay should be made me more aware of the problems.  Lia said that her mother has been ill so she was on the phone all day taking care of things for her, which I can appreciate, but it just seemed like she had done nothing to prepare.  All of these things got resolved within twenty-four hours, so in the grand scheme of things this was not a big deal.  In addition, my stress was compounded by the fact that Lia does not speak any English—thankfully I had Hannah here, and as a team we were able to figure most things out.

We have already had class orientation, and I’ll write more about that in a few days once I start class.  For now, I am struggling to get all my Portuguese back—at the moment, I am stumbling through life here using portunol (portugues + espanol) which is getting me by.  People have been helpful when I ask what stuff is called, and I can feel my abilities coming back each day.  It still doesn’t take away the weird feeling of being in Brazil.  I am used to Buenos Aires, which I can now say is neat, tidy, and organized compared to what I have experienced so far in Brazil.  For example, yesterday I went to buy a cell phone, which involved no fewer than five steps: First I told the woman at the cell phone counter which phone I wanted, then she left and returned with a piece of paper with a number on it, then I went and paid for the phone, next I took the receipt from the cashier back to the phone counter, and finally she went and brought me the phone.  After getting the phone, I refused to leave the store until someone explained to me how to put the SIM card in, which involved begging the other phone representative to stay after his shift ended to help me. 

I’m sure in a few days once I’m at class and more in the swing of things I will feel a lot more comfortable.  Today’s plans are to enjoy Copacabana beach (just three blocks away!), drink out of a coconut, and not get sunburned before class starts tomorrow.  Até logo! Until next time!

Peru Part 1: If It Can Go Wrong, It Will Go Wrong (and Will Be Resolved)

The plan to go on a great South America Extravaganza began in October, when my friends Katie and Haley and I realized we had some extra time after our final exams to travel.  We knew our time in South America would not be complete without a trip to Machu Picchu, and figured while we were at it we would explore Bolivia and parts of Chile as well.  Our friend Steph decided to join in too, so we were a group of four off on an adventure.  The morning of December 4, we all arrived at Haley’s apartment before dawn to take a car to the airport.  It was then we realized we had a very tight layover in Lima (for more on the story of buying these plane tickets, see my earlier blog post, “Historias Extraordinarias”).  We were able to get our seats moved to the front of the plane, in hopes that this would help with our connection to Cusco. 

After realizing that with the time change of two hours between Argentina and Peru we would be able to make our two flights, we were happy campers.  We arrived in Cusco, Peru, around 2 p.m.; we had asked for the hostel to arrange a cab to pick us up, and we would pay the hostel when we got there.  However, after dealing with a barrage of aggressive taxi drivers, we discovered that no one had appeared to get us.  After paying quite possibly three or four times more than what we would have to get to the hostel (though still only costing each of us $4), we arrived at Loki Hostel.

I think the best way to describe Loki is as a fortress.  Guarded from any intruder by a 45 degree-angle hill, the hostel has a restaurant, bar, game area, tv room, and really anything else you could need inside.  This fact became very important the next day. 

We had booked a tour through the hostel that would take us to Machu Picchu in four days.  The plan was the bike, hike, and zipline from Cusco to Aguas Calientes (the tourist town adjacent to Machu Picchu), with some help from vans and cars along the way.  We would spend the last day at Machu Picchu and then take the tourist train back to Cusco.  This was a cheaper and less physically strenuous alternative to the Inca Trail, a five-day hike from a starting location to Machu Picchu.  We would leave Cusco on Thursday morning and not return until Sunday evening, carrying all the things we would need in backpacks and leaving our other items locked at the hostel. 

The plan was to leave the next morning at 6:30 a.m. for the tour; however, beginning around 6 p.m., I started to not feel so well.  I was very tired and nauseated.  After attempting—and failing to keep down—plain spaghetti, I knew something was wrong.  As I curled up in a ball in my bed, my friends researched and discovered the problem: altitude sickness.  There’s no reason why some people experience altitude sickness and others don’t, but everyone is impacted when there are fewer oxygen particles in the air at higher altitudes.  We all had a higher likelihood of getting altitude sickness because we did not ascend slowly (we flew in and just dropped our bodies at 3,399 meters above sea level).  Essentially, having altitude sickness is like having a hangover that you can’t do anything about—I had a headache, felt weak, was vomiting, among other less than pleasant symptoms.  Most people recover within a few days, but for some, the symptoms do not go away until you go to a lower altitude. 

The tour was leaving with or without me, so the next morning at 6:15 a.m., I made the decision to stay in Cusco another day to see if I felt better.  My friends left on the tour at 6:30, and I was assured I would be able to meet them by 5 p.m. the following day if I felt well enough.  At this point, I was too weak to leave the hostel, so thankfully where we were staying was well equipped to help me.  I made friends with the tour operator, Ivan, who had me come do a health check every two hours.  The reception staff offered to call me a doctor should I need one and everyone had suggestions of what to eat and drink to speed my recovery along.  At this point, I was very alone in a strange land, very ill, and without a way to know when I would feel better.  The biggest help in all of this was that I could speak Spanish—this helped tremendously when explaining the problems to the various people at the hostel.  These employees all speak English, but they appreciate it and (I believe) understand your problems better when you talk in Spanish. 

By the end of the day, I was feeling about 80%--well enough to move on from Cusco and start the tour.  The following morning, Friday, I boarded a bus at 6:30 a.m. to go meet my friends.  I opted out of every physical activity I could (this has been a useful strategy my whole life), so I ended up just sitting in different cars, vans, and cabs for the entire day.  This was a good thing, as I was trying to conserve my strength for Machu Picchu on Sunday.  The last part of the day involved taking a cab (or, rather, a car that I was told was a cab) from one small town to another town where my friends and their tour would meet me.  This was hands-down the scariest car ride of my life, as I sat in the front seat while the driver essentially drove on a 1.25 lane road on the side of a mountain.  No guardrails, speed limit signs, or safety precautions were anywhere in sight. 

Peruvian countryside

After what felt like three hair-raising hours in the car (but what was most likely 45 minutes), I arrived at the hostel.  The group hadn’t gotten there yet, and I had no way to contact my friends to tell them I was arriving.  When Joel, our guide, appeared, he told me to stay hidden so we could play a joke on Haley, Katie, and Steph.  He went out and told them that I had not actually made it, and then I popped out from behind the car.  We were all happy to be reunited and had lots of stories about our (short) time apart. 

We spent the night in this small town and had a delicious dinner (stuffed avocado, everyone should try it), we headed out the next morning to zipline.  The photos will do a better job here than me to show what exactly we did. 

Getting ready to zipline! We went from where I am standing to the other side of the river over the course of five zips.  

Zipping across!  I prefer to zip in the curled-up ball position so I can go as fast as possible.  Also, during a past zipline experience, I stopped in the middle; now when I do this activity, I like to have as little surface area as possible.

Then we hiked three hours along a railroad to Aguas Calientes—this walk was fine because it was mostly flat.  Any sort of uphill walking was still pretty difficult for me.  I was feeling better for the most part but still waking up with pretty strong headaches.  We arrived at our hostel and had our first shower in two days.  Steph and I ventured out to see the town (verdict: tourist trap), and then we went to bed early in preparation for Machu Picchu the following day.