A Christmas Eve to Remember in Plottier, Argentina.

Neil and I arrived in Plottier from San Martin de Los Andes mid afternoon on the bus. I really needed to crap. I unsurprisingly discovered that there was no toilet paper in the bathroom and upon asking the lady who sells cookies and stuff at the bus station about it, she supplied me some at no cost. We bought some ice cream from her and proceeded to talk about random stuff. Even though I had lived in Plottier for six months, it had been five years since I had been in there and so needed some reminders. I asked her where one could camp. She said there was a private campground far from where we were at and a municipal one much closer. She called someone who then gave me directions to the municipal camping area that was down by the Limay river. 

Why was I intending to camp in a town where I had friends? The reason for this is that the only people I had kept in contact with via facebook over the last five years told me they could not host me and I did not feel like crashing people's Christmas Eve parties. I however fully intended to sleep in someone's house after talking to people at church the following morning. One night camping down by the river would be fine. (Also, most hotels in Argentina cost way more than I am willing to pay so I was adamantly opposed to staying in one). 

So we walked down to the river. Upon entering the camp or park or whatever it merited to be called, we saw a small police building. To our joy there were two police men on duty. We asked them if one could camp there. They affirmed and pointed to an area a little ways away where there were tons of tents and inebriated Argentinians. We asked them if it was safe to camp there and they said no problem. So off we went. 

Two things you need to know about Argentina. First, it is not uncommon for police to be corrupt and unreliable and on this occasion they were probably getting drunk to celebrate the holiday + didn't want any trouble themselves which may explain why they never left their building that night. Second, many people, especially juveniles can be incredibly savage. They will hurt or kill you for nothing and due the corruption of Argentinian laws, juveniles fondly called Pibes in the Argentinian language, usually face few to no consequences for even murder. They are extremely dangerous. 

So off we went. We walked past the camps of Argentines. There were Argentines of all ages. The music was blasting and it was obvious people were getting wicked drunk among other things. I pointed to an area removed from the general disorder and told Neil that is where we would camp. Upon approaching that area a lone man at a table saw us and beckoned us to come to him. He looked to be a unsavory character and Neil asked if we should join him. I said, "this is Plottier, what can happen?" As this was my territory Neil trusted me and so off we went. We were in for an interesting night. 

He immediately addressed the fact that we looked like we were foreigners and inquired as to what we were doing there. I explained that I had been one of those misioneros mormones that walk around everywhere bothering people, but that I was no longer one and was back to visit friends. This pleased the 40 something year old man. He was only moderately inebriated probably due to being high on cocaine and said that he was all alone with no one to share his asado with but that God had sent us to share a meal with him. We did not know it at the time, but us being labeled as men sent by God to keep him company proved to offer us some protection. 

We got the asado cooking and as we got talking we discussed how screwed up the world was etc. etc. etc. A few things that came up raised flashing red danger flags that caused me to realize I had gotten us into a bad situation. I mentioned how there are screwed up places in the world such as Barrio San Lorenzo in the nearby city of Neuquen. He said, "that's where I live!" For me it was one of those "oh $#!+" moments. Barrio San Lorenzo is a savage wild place. It is where those who need to hide from the law and world go. An area of thieves and murderers. Police do not enter the area for it being so dangerous. As I missionary I had been to the boundary of this barrio, and seen many police at that boundary. It was explained to me that that is as far as they go. The police's goal seemed more to keep the savagery in San Lorenzo as opposed to eliminate it. They rarely venture in. In fact, one of my good friends who lived there had the bars over his apartment's windows pulled off by the chorros (argentine robbers) with a crow bar. He and his companion were able to avoid any harm as one grabbed a broom and the other a chair and hid to the side of the passage that led up to the bedroom they were in. As the chorros entered the room, my friend and his companion attacked them with the chair and broom which surprised the chorros enough that they fled. The did not get away with anything and even left their crow bar. Any person from San Lorenzo needs to be treated with caution. 

Another thing that came up was his job. I asked him what he did for work. He explained that when a politician is striking a deal with someone they bring him along to let whoever they are "dealing" with knows what will happen if they don't comply..... See our friend had his history. He had been in many fights that explained the many scars on his body he proceeded to show us. He had killed multiple people. I asked him why he killed people and he explained "me faltaron el respeto" or "lacked respect" for him. He had had troubles with his family and so had been cut off from his ex wife and children hence him being alone on Christmas Eve. He had a gun with him and proceeded to snort cocaine as he talked with us. He asked us if the cocaine bothered us to which we responded "claro que no" to which he said "good, I didn't think you would judge me". He talked about his general hate for police and how the law was ridiculous in that it would imprison you for killing someone who merited murder. Now for those people who are reading this and are like "yeah, he was pulling your leg just trying to scare you"... you don't get it. Argentina can be a wild and savage place where people like our murderer friend can thrive. None of this nor our situation was a joke. I told Neil that this was the worst situation I had gotten myself into in ALL of my travels. I pleaded for him to not say anything stupid or do anything that would frustrate our friend. I confessed I did not know what to do. 

Things work out in strange ways sometimes. This guy who I was afraid of turned out to be our saving grace. The Pibes from a neighboring camp came over to investigate. Our presence had been noticed. They asked us who we were and where we were from. There were three of them. It was clear they were all younger than eighteen, and immune to criminal prosecution--the most dangerous kind of criminals. One told me to give him my shirt. I responded, "I like your hat. Give it to me!" He was a little shocked by the opposition I presented him. Our murderer friend yelled out "don't play with them, they are being serious." He then interrogated them. He asked where they were from to which they responded "Cutral Co". That scared me. Cutral Co, like San Lorenzo can be a bad place. He said, ah "I know so and so and so and so, etc." Do you know them? They affirmed. He was letting them know who HE was. He then went on, "What do you want? Do you want to rob them? I have a gun with me. It will be easy. You can have their tent, their backpacks. Let's rob them!" The inebriated Pibes were taken back by such an abrupt and open declaration. Their mushy brains understood who he was and that we were with him. They, said, "no, no". Our murderer friend then said, "well, if you have nothing to do here... then leave!"

They returned back to their encampment drug fest. Our murderer friend then apologized and explained that they had come over to rob us of our things but that he let them know who he was and that we were his guests. He then passionately exclaimed that we had "fallen well with him" and that God had sent us to keep him company so he did not have to be alone on Christmas eve. He said we were his guests and as such he would die for us. He then proceeded to snort more cocaine. 

I had read the news. I had heard many stories from local Argentines. I had friends who had been robbed at gun and knife point. One missionary, an ethnic Tongan from California, even had his throat slit out on the street during my missionary time in Argentina. I don't want to think about what those Pibes and their nearby clan would have done to us had we not spent the evening without our murderer friend. Argentina can be an extremely dangerous place (at least more dangerous than most places I have been). 

After the Pibe encounter I told Mr. murderer that we had some friends we were going to meet up with (our tent and everything was set up indicating we had intended to stay). He responded "you told me you had no where or anyone to be with tonight! No me van a faltar el respeto?! (disrespect him)." We said, "Claro que no, nos vamos a quedar." We were stuck there for the night.

Up to that point I had done most of the talking and had run out of things to talk about so Neil took over. He talked to him about Shakira and other common culture things like movies and music that I know little to nothing about. Our friend loved it, and confided his deep and abiding love for 80's pop icon Tina Turner. He then said that his "girlfriend" was going to stop by that evening and that we needed to meet her.

Another thing that came up during our conversation was that he wanted to meet up with us in the next few days. Remembering from my mission something that people instantly found repulsive and drove them away, I invited him to come to church with us. He said "no, that is okay. I do not want to go but thank you for inviting me." I then pleaded, "no please! We would love to have you come. We will wait for you there tomorrow. You will like it!" He said, "no, I will not go but thank you for inviting me." He then forgot about wanting to meet up with us later in the week. 

So the hours passed and this girlfriend finally showed up. He was incredibly pleased to present us to her and after some conversation I got us excused to our tent at two in the morning. There were no signs of him or anyone else going to bed. In the tent we discussed what we should do. Should we sleep or not sleep? Should we run for it? I concluded we should just sleep. If the pibes are going to attack or our friend changed his feelings about us, there was nothing we could do. We were not armed. We might as well just sleep and hope for the best. 

I woke up at 5:30. I checked the surrounding environment. Everyone was asleep except for a few recent arrivals. We quickly broke camp and got out of there. It was a good feeling to be free. It was also a great feeling to walk the streets I had trod as a missionary not as a missionary but as a tourist. So many memories flooded back to my mind. It was bittersweet. Plottier is a place I had suffered in but where I also had had some of my life's sweetest experiences. It was surreal being there after five years. 

As we made our way to the church we passed a few wandering but not dangerous Pibes. The streets were for the most part vacant. We laid out for a few hours in front of the church on the sidewalk. Eventually the Bishop from the ward I had not been a missionary in showed up. He was a little surprised to see people like us (dirty homeless looking tourists with large backpacks) there and asked if we were ex-missionaries. He then let us in. 

It had been an interesting start to my return visit to Argentina, my home of two years.