How to Make a Smooth Landing Alone in Argentina

Existential questions generally don’t usually keep me up at night—I leave the “I’m getting old, what’s the meaning of life?” to Feng—but my thoughts often bounce from one random worry to the next.

I never stay long without worrying about things that haven’t even happened yet and may very well not happen.

My brain can choose to worry about money—don’t we all!—or rather about my ability to keep on making a living as a freelancer. “Too true to be true,” I mutter to myself, even though I’ve been doing just fine for the past 13 years. Then I move on to worrying about time—not like Deleuze’s pure form of time but days, hours and minutes. Will I have enough of these to accomplish what I told myself I should achieve, from making dinner to writing something other than blog posts?

The rest of the time, I worry about the practical aspects of our often not-so-practical decisions.

An easy option, really.

My list of worries before this trip was as high as the snowbanks. Incidentally, snow was on the list—what if there’s a snowstorm and our super low-cost flight to Cancún is cancelled? I was also worrying—quite legitimately, I must point out—about leaving without winter gear at 3 a.m., making sure half asleep us wouldn’t forget anything, and making it to the airport without freezing to death. I was kind of worried about our three-day stopover in Mexico. Yes, Cancún is gringo abroad 101, I know, but this is precisely what worried me. Too many drunk gringos, Yucatán laws and rules we don’t know anything about, a giant gap between locals and tourists.

But it turned out to be fine. We made it to Brazil, summer started and I pushed my worries away because I was so happy to be back in Brazil and on the road.

The fact I wasn’t constantly worrying didn’t mean I wasn’t stressed out once in a while. Work was crazy the first week in São Paulo, and juggling unexpected assignments right before the holidays while easing into Brazil was a bit too much.

I relaxed again on Ilha de Santa Catarina. Brazil does this to me—people are usually cheery, helpful and kind, and it’s contagious.

I started worrying again in Campeche, just before New Year’s Eve. See, I’m always one step ahead. It drives Feng crazy. Maybe that’s why I never got into yoga. The whole “find peace in the present moment” isn’t for me, I’d rather do push-ups and lift weights, it just feels more productive.

So what was I worried about? Our late arrival in Brasília, of course, but mostly what was coming after that—our two different flights to two different countries, four days later.

Feng and Mark were flying back to Canada with a one-day stopover in Cancún.

I was going to Argentina for a bit.

I’ve done it all before—travelling alone and Argentina.

But see, landing in Argentina can be tricky.

I was going to land at 6:40 p.m. without a phone and without cash.

I did try to sign up for Vivo’s very affordable roaming package to keep my Brazilian SIM card but Vivo didn’t cooperate. I went from one Vivo store to the other in Brasília, a city without shortage of Vivo stores. I was encouraged to sign up for the roaming plan through the app.

“But I can’t download the Vivo app,” I explained half a dozen times. “Google doesn’t let me. This item is not available in your country.”

Many Brazilian heads were scratched but we weren’t able to find a workaround. I even considered changing my country to Brazil but Google only allows region changes once a year (!) and I was afraid I’d lose access to potentially useful apps on my phone.

So no seamless transition to Argentina with my Brazilian SIM card. I would have to buy an Argentinian SIM—and I wouldn’t have a phone when arriving.

As for cash, it’s pointless (and extremely difficult) to get pesos outside of Argentina. It’s best to bring US dollars and exchange money in the street or hope that your credit card works. These are two options best explored earlier in the day and not at 8 p.m., mind you.

Final worry to keep in mind, getting into my Airbnb. The apartment had a keypad but it was also inside a shopping gallery, locked at night. “The door will be locked around 9 p.m., so let me know if you’re late,” my host advised.

Yeah, sure. But how without a working phone?

“You’re a good traveller,” Feng said. “You’ll be fine.”

And so, on Tuesday, we took the same taxi to the airport because our two different flights were leaving at 11:35 a.m.

I got my boarding pass and dropped off my bag first—mine was easy because it was considered domestic, I was flying Brasília-São Paulo with GOL, then São Paulo-Buenos Aires with Aerolíneas Argentinas.

Feng and Mark had to wait for their check-in counter to open.

I walked around, waiting for them to get their boarding passes, then we said goodbye.

I slept all the way to São Paulo. I exited Terminal 2 and re-entered, went through immigration to get my exit stamp, then waited to board.

I slept again all the way to Buenos Aires even though it was freezing cold on the plane.

Going through immigration and picking up my backpack didn’t take long.

So far, so good.

I used the airport WiFi to connect to Uber, then I walked across the parking lot hoping to find the right car because I had no Internet outside the airport.

It worked.

The shopping gallery door was still open because I made it to the apartment at 7:30 p.m.

I was able to exchange money in the street right away.

My favourite bakery a block away was still open, so I bought bread and a medialuna before going to the 24/7 Carrefour on Corrientes.

The guys called me at midnight from Cancún—all good.

Phew. Nothing to worry about… for at least a night or two!

So there you go. This is how to land smoothly in Argentina without cash—all it takes is pointless worrying, and a bit of luck.