Border Encounters with Officialdom, Part 2: The Happy Ending

Wednesday, when I crossed the Chilean border and took the ferry across Lago Hua Hum to Puerto Fuy, I felt a little uneasy about what might follow. As I wrote some days ago, official Chilean intransigence – from one unpleasant customs official – had complicated my entry into Argentina but, after consulting with my Santiago customs agent, I felt returning to Chile and re-crossing into Argentina was my best option.

The ferry sailed west from Puerto Pirehueico (pictured at top) an hour late, at 4:30 p.m., because an Argentine tour operator had failed to arrive on time. It was a beautiful afternoon, though, as the ferry advanced among the dense verdant forests of the Andean slopes. It was my first time on this route – when life gives you lemons, make lemonade – but on arrival in Puerto Fuy I left immediately for the town of Panguipulli, which had more diverse accommodations than the resort hotels near the ferry port. Panguipulli was also closer to Ruta 5, the Panamerican Highway that would help take me back to Argentina via the Paso Cardenal Samoré.

Thursday morning, approaching the Chilean border complex, I climbed along the winding international highway with little evidence of the volcanic ash that covered much of the area after the Cordón Caulle eruption of 2011. That’s because the prevailing westerlies carried most of the ash into Argentina, where piles of ash line both sides of the road, and there are numerous dead trees.

This is the second busiest border crossing between the two countries and, as I took my place in a relatively short immigration line, I felt a little anxious. That part went routinely, but then I had to face Chilean customs to learn whether, like their counterpart to the north, they would restrict my ability to take my own car out of the country.

My first step was a misstep. I lacked the initial paperwork for the vehicle because I had overlooked the nearby computer terminal that produces it – which the customs officer politely pointed out – so I had to fetch that before they could deal with it. Fortunately, it was a fairly simply procedure that involved entering the license plate and the number of my Rol Único Tributario (RUT, the Chilean tax ID) that lets me renew the car’s license every March.

Returning to the line, I was pleased to see the gentleman who attended me treat everything as absolutely routine – in only a few minutes, I was cleared to proceed to the Argentine side of the border. His cordiality and efficiency could not have contrasted more with the hostility that I experienced at the more northerly crossing.

There was a small glitch, though. After I left Chilean customs and drove a few km to the east, something was nagging at me, and I stopped to take a closer look at the paperwork. It was then I realized that the computer printout had displayed my nationality as Chilean, with no mention of my US passport. Consequently, I drove back to the border complex and mentioned it to the official, who was unconcerned. He merely noted, in ink on the printout, that I left the country on my US passport (for what it’s worth, my RUT differs from the one granted to Chilean citizens – mine is technically commercial rather than personal).

For my part, I was concerned that the Argentines might see it differently, but things went equally smoothly on the Argentine side and I continued to Villa La Angostura, where I found a comfortable B&B and has a pleasant dinner.

In the process, though, I had also learned that things might have gone better in Mendoza. When I inquired here about Hernán Lausen, the Samoré customs superintendent who had been so helpful to me last year, I was told that he was now at the Mendoza border crossing. Had I known that, things might have gone much more smoothly in the first place.

Patagonia Blue(s)? An Exchange-Rate Update

For various reasons – a brief illness and a work assignment that kept me anchored to the computer for about ten days – I’ve spent less time on the Argentine side of Patagonia than I had hoped or anticipated. That said, it’s still given me some insight into the continuing complications of the exchange rates here, both for foreign visitors and for Argentines and their businesses.

Two weeks ago, I crossed the border from Chile’s Torres del Paine to the Argentine tourist town of El Calafate, where I usually stay in my cousin’s house. She was out of town, though, and my other usual contacts (her ex-husband and my nephew) had no available space, so I had to spend money on a hotel. I found a simple but pleasant place for 490 pesos (about US$55 at the official exchange rate).

I had a supply of Argentine pesos that I had purchased at the “blue” rate of roughly 13 to the dollar in December in Buenos Aires, but thought I might need more, so I asked the owner what rate she paid for US dollars. I knew it would be lower here, where the tourist economy puts quite a bit of foreign currency in private hands – my cousin and nephew are guides who often get tips in dollars – but accepted the offer of 11.50 pesos per dollar, which made the effective room rate about US$43. I also got some change in return, augmenting my peso supply.

That wasn’t as good as the Buenos Aires rate and, at dinner with my nephew and my cousin’s ex that night, I learned that Calafate’s only foreign exchange house had closed. That leaves the banks and ATMs, which pay only the official rate, or negotiations with hotels or other businesses, such as tour agencies. En route to El Chaltén, I made a brief stop at the historic roadhouse of La Leona (pictured above), where the rate was 11 pesos (as pictured below). Friends at El Chaltén, who operate a hybrid hostel/B&B, told me they were reluctant to involve themselves in money-changing because of the recent fluctuations in the market (the dollar reached as high as 15 pesos in the not-too-distant past).

As I reported in the previous post, I had to make an unexpected detour to the town of Gobernador Gregores as I drove north on Ruta 40, and there the YPF gas station (pictured below) was offering 10 pesos – not much of a premium on the official rate. I had plenty of pesos to fill the tank, though, so I didn’t have to change money there.

Shortly thereafter, I returned to Chile and, a couple days ago, I crossed the border from Futaleufú to Esquel, where a friend told me the market there had pretty much dried up because of a government crackdown. I proceeded north, with a brief stop for empanadas and ice cream at El Bolsón, before arriving at Villa La Angostura, my last stop before returning to Chile. My pesos were running a little low.

Unfortunately, I arrived too late to visit Cambio Andina (pictured at top), an exchange house that was paying the blue rate last year. I went to find accommodations and learned that, unfortunately, this is the weekend of a big moto-cross event (something I loathe) and rooms would be hard to find. The first place that had a room (which I knew from an earlier visit) would accept dollars at nine pesos, barely above the official rate.

Another place’s prices had skyrocketed – even in dollar terms – since I stayed there last year, but its owner would change dollars at 12 pesos. I decided to try one other place, where an apologetic receptionist told me that Andina would still change at the blue rate for tourists, but only the official rate for locals, so she preferred not to do so. I ended up returning to the previous option, but paying a bit more than I had hoped.

What’s the moral of this story? Argentina continues to be unpredictable, and is likely to be so at least until a new government takes office at year’s end.

MEANWHILE, ACROSS THE ANDES

There’s also news in Chile’s foreign exchange market, where the dollar stood at roughly 620 pesos when I arrived at the end of January, then rose upwards of 640 before recently returning to the 620 level. This contrasts, however, with the rate of 540 pesos a year ago, so that Chile has actually gotten a bit cheaper (unlike in Argentina, inflation remains low). Also, in Chile, there’s no parallel market, so you can withdraw from ATMs without an exchange rate penalty (preferably BancoEstado, with very low user charges).

Southbound Again: Patagonia, Argentina's Melodrama, & An Exchange Rate Update

It’s been more than six weeks since I left Buenos Aires to return to California and now, as I contemplate a balmy winter’s day (68° F or 20° C), I’m preparing to fly south again – this coming Wednesday afternoon I fly from SFO to LAX to catch the LAN flight to Santiago (where it’s an even balmier 86° F or 30° C). At least, unlike Buenos Aires, it’s a dry heat.

That’s misleading, though, as I’ll be spending most of my time in Patagonia, where the weather is generally cooler and, at times, downright frigid. The photo above is the cover of the new edition of my new Moon Handbook to the region.

It’s worth pointing that even in mid-summer, in the northern Argentine lakes district around Villa La Angostura, I’ve encountered whiteout conditions on a day hike – as the photo above shows. The most changeable weather, though, occurs in Chile’s southern Magallanes region and the Tierra del Fuego archipelago (divided between the two countries).

Argentina’s Ongoing Melodrama

By leaving Buenos Aires, I’ve missed any direct experience of the story of the century. It’s a Byzantine tale in which Argentine federal prosecutor Alberto Nisman (investigating a cover-up in the 1994 terrorist bombing that killed 85 people in the city’s AMIA Jewish cultural center; pictured below when under reconstruction some years ago) supposedly committed suicide last Sunday – or did he? If anybody knows the truth about this convoluted story – where is Benedict Cumberbatch’s Sherlock when we really need him? - he (or she) is not telling, and may never do so.

Until we learn more – and there’s no guarantee that we will in a country where judicial investigations can last two decades with no results – I recommend reading Jon Lee Anderson’s essay “A Very Argentinian Mystery” in The New Yorker to put it all in perspective. Even given the political chaos, I would not discourage anybody from traveling to Buenos Aires but, given the political tensions that have surfaced since the event, I would recommend keeping some distance from public demonstrations unless you really know what’s happening.

Exchange Rate Update

Because I’ll be traveling in both Argentina and Chile over the next couple months, I’ve been thinking about money. Despite Argentina’s political uncertainties, both the official exchange rate (about 8.6 per US dollar) and the parallel “blue” rate (about 13.5 per dollar) have remained pretty stable since I left last month. That’s fortunate for me, since I took a risk by changing a significant number of dollars into pesos because I knew I wouldn’t be passing through Buenos Aires, and the market for dollars is smaller in Patagonia.

Though Chile’s economy is generally more stable and predictable than Argentina’s, the Chilean peso’s been in a recent slide due to falling prices for copper (the country’s primary export). When I flew out of Santiago at the end of last March, the rate was about 570 per dollar, while today it’s roughly 625; unlike Argentina, there is no black market, so changing at ATMs makes sense (especially at BancoEstado, which collects no service charges). Given low inflation (also unlike Argentina), Chilean prices are likely to be about 10 percent cheaper than last year.

My Bulging Wallet? Accommodating Argentine Currency

Last May, when Argentina’s informal exchange rate for the “blue dollar” rose above ten pesos for the first time, it quickly acquired the nickname “Messi dollar” from the number of the country’s Barcelona-based soccer star, widely considered the best in his sport. After a respite, it recently rose above ten again, leading me to wonder whether the government’s inept attempts at currency manipulation might instead lead to a “Spinal Tap dollar.” In fact, it's done all that and more, with President Cristina Fernández de Kirchner and Economy Minister Axel Kicillof arguably standing in for Nigel Tufnel (who appears in the video below).

Since January 8th, when I crossed into Argentina from Chile, I’ve had to deal with the issue from a practical standpoint – with a limited budget, not wanting to extract pesos from ATMs at the official rate, I’ve had to seek money-changing alternatives. This has also raised an internal editorial conflict, as I have to decide whether to calculate prices at the official exchange rate (6.8 pesos as of yesterday) or the blue rate of 11.9 (a breach of 75 percent between the two) in the upcoming fourth edition of Moon Handbooks Patagonia.

Reluctantly, I’ve decided to go with the official rate, even though matters could look quite different by the time the book appears in print later this year. Though this might make Argentina look costlier that it really is (for me, at least), I’ve decided to take the position that many if not most short-term visitors won’t feel comfortable using what is euphemistically called the “parallel market.” Having said that, I’ll describe how I’ve gone about it, and leave it up to readers whether or not they wish to do so.

I arrived at Villa La Angostura (pictured above) with just 80 Argentine pesos, which I had obtained for a ten-dollar bill at an exchange window at Chile’s Paso Cardenal Samoré border post. That allowed me to enjoy a small dish of ice cream with a bit of change left over, but the rate was obviously not optimum. I had to go looking for another place to be able to pay for a room for the night and beyond.

Last year, in Buenos Aires, I had a regular purchaser for my dollars at a downtown business, which was less convenient than the corner ATM but paid me substantially more. I usually made a morning phone call, and they would check the daily rate (now available at sites like Precio Dólar Blue and also as an app for the iPhone in addition to Android systems).

The app, though, didn’t help me find a purchaser in VLA, so I walked into the first inmobiliaria (real estate broker) I saw on the main drag and asked if he would be interested in purchasing dollars. Argentine real estate transactions typically take place in dollars, so they’re often needed. He couldn’t help me himself, but did direct me to another broker who happily handed over 3,000 pesos in exchange for the 300 dollars I had on me.

Still, I found evidence of variable rates around town – the exchange house Cambio Andina, ostensibly limited to paying the official rate, was willing to go to 9.6, and the Tinto Bistro (owned by the brother of Holland’s Queen Máxima) said they’d offer 8.6 to nine to pay for a meal. A few days later, in San Martín de los Andes, another branch of Cambio Andina offered me ten pesos per dollar, but only for bills of US$50 or US$100 – they would only pay the official rate for smaller bills.

Certainly Cambio Andina, which also has a branch in San Carlos de Bariloche, is a low-risk choice to change dollars even if their rate may not be the best available. Still, potential visitors have to consider carrying larger bills even though stateside ATMs rarely dispense anything larger than US$20 banknotes. One business owner whose clients are almost all foreigners expressed concern that her guests often paid in twenties, which she cannot easily exchange on the informal market.

Having to track down a new money-changer in every town is a nuisance, but it’s not the only one. In Argentina’s inflationary economy, the largest available bill is a 100-peso note, now worth less than US$10 at the informal rate – a government that denies inflation refuses to print any larger denominations (non-governmental analysts estimate inflation at about 25 percent). After changing US$700 for friends in Neuquén, I have more 70 of them on hand, and they don’t fit easily in my wallet, but I don’t care to leave them elsewhere and my leg pouch is still full of my remaining dollars.

And Now For Something Not Quite Completely Different?

While we're talking about shortages, I have seen long lines for gasoline in many cities that I’ve visited so far, but most notably in Villa La Angostura, where I waited in a line of 50 cars to fill the tank.