South America ... everybody wins!

Meintjeskop Courier No 10, December 1990

No author specified

If ever there can be a contradiction in terms, South America is it. Argentina have just lost their second match in a row in the world cup soccer tournament but I can guarantee that there was jubilation in the streets of Buenos Aires. Then again, in 1978 they also lost their first two rounds. They then beat Peru 8 - 1 to take them into the competition proper and went on to win the world cup.

That's just the way it is in South America. Everybody is a dual or triple citizen. If Argentina wins, I am an Argentine. If they lose to Britain, I claim my British ancestry and celebrate the British victory. If Britain then loses to the Italians, of course my Great Grandfather on my mother's side was Italian. 

Take the Falklands/Malvainas war. There were parades by the British in Argentina  in support of the government, by the Spanish the Italians, the Germans, the Swiss, and so on. And just when you think there are no Argentines, Vilas and Cleg come home to beat the Americans in the Davis cup and those same people are back in the streets celebrating.

In South America, no matter where you go, your friends will pay more than your enemies. If I were to take you to a shop I know and introduce you, the price automatically goes up by 20 % because the owner knows - I must get a cut.

You find this same mentality in the traffic. Traffic rules, safety belts and indications are for visitors and the weak of heart. Right of way is simply determined by size, sometimes with slight variations. For example all one way streets are two way and some two way streets are one way- eg If you're driving a big old Falcon, all streets are two way, until you meet a bus overtaking another bus. 

The biggest streets leading into town become one way (17 lanes) from 8 - 11 am or thereabout and one way the other way for 5 - 7 pm. In between, it is two way. There are usually no traffic "cops" supervising this effort, it just happens- and at 120 km per hour. It is actually quite comical to see the bumper to bumper stream of traffic, and cars sedately passing the oncoming stream but then suddenly as if a river washes its banks the sedate oncoming cars rush for cover while the A's flood the road, each having to be the first at the next traffic light. Imagine also trying to cross this 17 lane wide 120 kph stream at a point where there is no traffic light. 

Fangio could have done it and certainly every Argentine is Fangio. He just didn't have Mercedes backing to become famous in racing but he is just as good, any day. And he is proving it every day.

What happens, you may ask. if the traffic light is out of order? Well, there are two options. If a traffic "cop" discovers it, there will be a traffic jam. If he doesn't it will delay the traffic no longer than 2 minutes. This noisy stream of traffic will flow by until the first man in the side street decides he's waited long enough (usually about 2 minutes). 

He engages first gear and, by quick semi-release of the clutch, makes the car jump little bits at a time. Some weak fool in the mainstream will actually believe this threat and hit the brakes and our hero "floors it". The mainstream, seeing this slowing, accepts defeat and halt. - For two minutes, when the brave front row repeats the exercise. Easy!

Ever seen a car or truck with a flat tyre in South Africa? Everybody is trying their utmost to get this obstruction to the side of the road where the driver or somebody will endeavour to change the wheel. Not in Buenos Aires. If a flat tyre occurs in lane 6 of the 14 lane road, that's where it gets repaired. Oh, he may find 2 or 3 cars trapped behind him for about 30 seconds, but that's their problem. As soon as they disappeared, he will be as lonely as an island in midstream with the traffic opening behind him and closing up in front leaving him in peace to change his tyre.

I mention the word lanes rather loosely. Avenida Libertado has painted white lines dividing the street into 14 equal parts. Initially one might expect this is to divide the traffic into 14 lanes. One would be mistaken. Libertador is a winding, twisting road, but you wouldn't believe that if you were to look at the white lines. 

They run straight - meaning that if you were to stay in one of the lanes, you will be bound to climb a curb within a distance of 5 city blocks. You would certainly only stay in a lane if you were completely lost and needed to get to the side of the road so you could ask your way around - besides, how can one stay in one of the 14 lanes if 22 cars race down the street simultaneously.Owning a car in Buenos Aires makes for exhilarating driving.

Now, if Buenos-Aires with its fairly good road conditions frightens you, consider this. You are driving along what we would call the N4, through the marshes of the Entre Rios province. Of course, the roads sag with rime, but the bridges, built on the more rocky river bed, doesn't. So every few years, they recast the ramp in the same place making it steeper. Now, if for some reason you were to hit this ramp say at night at high speed, you would bounce on the bridge just once and never touch the down ramp. You will literally fly the river. 

Now this form of adventurous driving can continue until, and this is certain to happen, you meet up with an old car, a donkey cart of a tractor showing no light and sedately driving down the middle of the road. If you don't frighten easily, it may take three of four occurrences to show that you do otherwise once is enough. You are then reduced to the speed of the above mentioned donkey cart or tractor while everybody else whizzes past you at 160 kph.

Once you reach Paraguay, a different phenomenon occurs. All steel is valuable, and that includes man-hole covers. They are more valuable as cash in someone's pocket than on the hole in the street. But Paraguayans are resourceful people. They either leave the hole uncovered, of they fit a tree trunk into it at the exact height of your cars lamp. In sure it is by accident because no one can measure it so correctly on purpose.

The same road rules apply as for Argentina, except that the cars, trucks and busses are older. So people allow more space in passing in order that the flapping mudguards and wire locked doors may pass unhindered. It is said that a roaring truck exists where busses are too old to use in Argentina and Chile are sold to Uruguay and Paraguay once these vehicles have passed the point of economical repair, that is. When the Paraguayans discard them, they are sold to Peru and Colombia.

When you want to catch a taxi in Paraguay, take 2 raincoats. One you wear to protect you from the elements above, the other you use to protect you from the water coming through where the floorboards were supposed to be. There is always water on the road.

Taxis in Peru are VW Beetles. You flag one down and then argue the price with the driver. If you cannot agree on a price, flag the next one down. Sooner or later you're bound to find one at your price.

Talking about Peru - three things I will never forget. One - on the road from the airport there is a huge municipal garbage dump. It is hollow underneath because over a thousand families have each tunnelled a cave into it and reside there. With every truckload of rubbish arriving, they swarm like ants out of their holes and dig through the load to rescue saleable items.

Also, quite cute, are the hundreds of trenches by the roadside, each guarded by one man with a wheelbarrow. One closer inspection this appears to be the local version of a "SPEEDY". You drive over the trench and the man slithers underneath to torch weld the damage. He has maybe four lengths of exhaust pipe lying on the ground from which he will cut just enough to repair the broken piece. No full exhaust job here.

The third is, on the bus from Machu Pichu to the station. This is a twisting hairpin road from the top of the mountain. The bus, usually beyond repair, descends at approximately 5 kph. On turning the first bend, a group of dirty young beggars run alongside shouting "Monieee". The bus outruns them. Rounding the next hairpin, there they are again, and again until you reach the station, a drive of approximately 1 hour. They keep sliding the bank to meet the bus. There's no escape. "Money"!l!