Men are icky in Argentina, too, it seems

MOM AND DAD... YOU MIGHT NOT WANT TO READ THIS ONE

I leave the comfort of Nega Maluca to go to the Salvador airport. I get there quickly, having treated myself to a taxi versus a taxi + bus in the middle of the hot winter daylight. I arrive to discover that my plane was delayed an hour and a half. I also discover that I don’t technically have a connection, I’ll be waiting on the plane at Sao Paulo while we pick people up to go to Buenos Aires.

Smooth flight. And thank goodness, as just a couple of days prior there was a horrific, completely avoidable, 200+ fatality airplane crash on TAM landing at Sao Paulo. There is a runway there that was deemed too short for dangerous weather, and it had been shut down for a while, but it was decided they were loosing too much $ with the runway being closed that they used it. The plan landed too fast in wet weather, sped down the runway, crashed into a gas station, and blew up. Awful.

I’m tired, I’ve got a throat infection. I can’t lie down on the airport floor as everyone else does, as this particular floor isn’t carpeted. But Salvador airport has one thing that I’ve always said should exist at airports: a salon offering MASSAGE.

I don’t feel stressed enough or sore enough to warrant a massage, but at USD45 an hour, I felt like maybe it was a good idea. I could lie down. Nap. Wait.

They sure are a lot more open than we are. She didn’t leave the room while I undressed, and didn’t feel it necessary to cover me with a towel at some point. I had to tell her I was going to sleep, to stop her from talking to me for the full hour as it appeared would happen. It was a pretty bad massage. But I did get to rest. Naked, On a table.

I’m glad I got that massage, as perhaps it prevented the total meltdown that should have happened later on.

I land at Buenos Aires at around 3 am. An older couple I met on the way allowed me to share their car service, as we were both going to the center of town, and the next bus wasn’t to arrive for an hour.

The husband is annoyed that I gave his wife 50 pesos. But it was worth it to not have to wait. I was getting quite tired.

I get to V&S Hostel Club, a familiar sight, as I stayed here a couple of months prior.

I ring the bell.

No answer.

I ring two, three times more.

No answer.

I ring the bell for what feels like (and may have actually been) 15 minutes. I bang on the glass door, as I remind myself of the time I put my hand through my bedroom window at college. It was a highly unpleasant experience, and I made sure it didn’t happen again, despite my growing anger.

The night watchman, Juan, comes to the door.

I tell him that I have a reservation, that I’ve paid. He says no one is there.

“What do you mean, no one is there?, I ask”

“No one is there.”

No one is coming until 8 am, and it is only 4:15.

This same conversation goes on back and forth too many times. He will not let me in the vestibule. I am yelling. I try to convince him to let me in the vestibule. He won’t. He repeats himself over and over again, without a change in disposition. I’m thinking he’s a bit slow. I am yelling in the middle of a quiet, desolate street, that I cannot believe he is going to allow me to be alone in the street for hours.

He tells me there is a hotel a block away.

I walk a block away, with my 25 kilo bag,, backpack, and knitting. I am exhausted.

I come back. He has already gone away. I pound again. He comes out and says he will walk me to the other hotel.

I start crying. Oy yes, I pull the meek female card. Except it was pretty real. Bawling.

Now he totally changes.

He lets me in, sits me down on the stairwell, rubs my arm, and says over and over again, don’t cry, don’t cry. It’s OK. Don’t cry. I sat there crying this way for a good couple of minutes, with him rubbing my back and telling me not to cry. It was very sweet, actually.

I stop crying, and tell him that he was very kind, that I just want to go to sleep. The cold marble floor was so much better than being outside, waiting in the cold for four hours, with all my stuff, but without the jacket I had planned to buy once I arrived.

He still was petting my back. At this point, it was enough, but I didn’t say anything.

I lay down on the floor. He comes over and pets my arm some more. I try to go to sleep.

He sits on the stairwell, right next to me. Watching me. I figure he still thinks I am going to break in and rob the place. Quite a good plan, actually, if that was what I was into.

About 20 minutes later, he comes down the stairs and tells me that there is a small library where I can go and be warmer. I thank him again for his kindness.

He tells me to sit on the chair, it’s comfortable. I tell him I want to sleep, and the floor is wonderful, thank.

I lie down. Put my towel on top of me like a blanket. He sits in the chair right next to me, petting me to go to sleep. I am quite annoyed by this already.

He is now petting my face, my arm, my back, whispering me to go to sleep. I can’t, with all this touching. It was definitely overkill, and it was so annoying and uncomfortable, but the last thing I wanted to do was to piss him off so he’s throw me out again. I loie perfectly still, to make it seem like I am sleeping. I’m not worried… we’re right next to the dorm rooms that I stayed in the last time I was at this place, I’m just annoyed and tired and wanted so much to be left alone.

Every time I turned to adjust, he would start again, telling be to go back to sleep. This went on for about an hour. Then, right before 7 am, he comes over, pets me some more, tells me that he has to go. He wants me to call him, He gave me his number. I was so happy he was leaving, I say, OK, bye, goodnight.

This response was not what he was hoping for.

He told me again that he had to go. His hand is now up my shirt. I said “Please, I’m trying to sleep, go, leave me.”

He doesn’t stop. He told me again he had to go. I take his hand off me and tell him I am sleeping.

He lies down next to me. I say no and push him away.

He tells me to keep my voice down, everyone is sleeping.

He tries to kiss me full on the mouth.

Now I start screaming in English, “I CAN’T TAKE THIS ANT MORE. JESUS FUCKING CHRIST PLEASE LEAVE ME BE” and he runs off.

It wasn’t traumatizing, just completely exhausting. I don’t know if he was mentally changellened as I had originally thought, but there was definitely something wrong. I really can’t understand how he could have gotten the impression that I was interested in a fling on the floor of this hostel. I was crying, begging to sleep. The weired thing is that I really think he thought there was something between us. He left me his number!!

8 am sharp, I went upstairs, looking like something the cat had dragged in. I said “Good morning. I’m Cindy. We have a problem. I arrived late at 4 am yesterday, and was locked out, I have no idea why no one thought to tell me that there wasn’t a 24 hour reception when I said I was arriving at 3 in the morning, but when I got here, your night watchman felt me up in my sleep. All night. I’d like to talk about this later, as I really just want a bed right now, and I see you have other people waiting.”

As this is Latin America, I knew I wasn’t going to be compensated for this financially. I didn’t even bother. He didn’t do anything wrong enough for me to press charges. They say he’s worked here for 10 years without any problem, and they were horrified,

I didn’t have to pay for sleeping on the floor, luckily.