The first time we noticed this was when we boarded our first Argentine bus in La Quiaca, on the border with Bolivia.  The bus was like those we had seen first in Peru, double decker and seemingly quite luxurious.  Told it was also directo, we were excited about no stops like the fancy Peru buses.  To our surprise, in Argentina directo does not mean direct, but only that the bus will stop at dedicated bus stations and will not pick people up on the side of the road.  Of course, on our way to Salta, we stopped in every one-horse town on the way, usually to drop off or pick up one passenger.  We learned that what takes seven hours should really only take five hours!

Our first stop in Argentina was Salta, a northern city with quite a bit of character in its restaurants and sidewalk cafes.  It was here we learned about the severity of difference in Argentine meal times.  With a quick walk around town upon arrival Saturday, we saw at least five restaurants we “had” to try.  The town was bustling with shops open everywhere and all the outdoor seating completely full.  Happily, we enjoyed our first experience with panchos (footlong hot dogs!) and returned to the hostel with visions of our meals over the next few days.  Unfortunately, the next day we were quite hungry after a small breakfast and ate lunch at noon.  It seemed like a reasonable decision, until we were hungry for dinner by 6PM and we quickly found out that this is a bit of a problem.  Nothing is open!  We settled on more sidewalk stand sandwiches for dinner.  Only the next night did we learn that restaurants OPEN for dinner at 8PM.  We had not, and probably will not, get used to this idea.

Our last bout came in the form of currency, funny thing to be culture shocked about, I know.  However, in all of South America, only the crispist of bills are preferred and any, of any denomination, with as much as a 1mm long tear will not be accepted.  We had grown quite accustomed to this and loved our crisp, clean bills.  In Argentina, on the other hand, the currency is a disaster!  Nearly all bills, regardless of value, are brownish, crumpled and feel like a used tissue.  We very honestly worry that the bills might just disintegrate in our hands.  No tear is too great and the only bills that are not falling apart are covered in tape because they already have!  Maybe they use them as spitwads, I don’t know, but the moral of the story: Don’t keep hard currency in Argentine pesos or it may not be there tomorrow.

Apart from our culture shock, we love Argentina.  Our experience in Salta showed us a vibrant community with culture and attractive cityscapes to go around.  It is vastly different from the Andes, where we spent the past two months before arriving here.  We are looking forward to long bus rides with way too many stops, late dinners and carrying the worst-conditioned currency in the world.  We have our tape ready; bring it on Argentina!

Upon arrival at the airport, bags are checked and we are promptly informed that our flight is an hour and a half late.  As we settle in for the long wait, an hour and a half turns into nearly three as we finally board the plane at 12:30.  The flight is uneventful and we arrive in Guayaquil at 3:30PM, weary from an already long day.  Having spent two nights in Guayaquil prior to our trip to the Galapagos and having been none too impressed, we originally made the decision to press on to Cuenca by bus.  Arriving three hours late makes us doubt the decision but we carry on nonetheless.

Our first task is to arrange a taxi from the airport to the long distance bus terminal.  With five people, the quoted fare of $5 seems reasonable.  Bags and bodies stuffed in, the taxi takes off.  After what seems like 37 seconds (probably 5 minutes in reality) and two turns (probably accurate) we arrive at the bus terminal.  No longer does our gallant limo driver seem so generous.

With bus tickets purchased, gate found and bags stowed, we board the bus and are told to move away from our assigned seats and friends.  Confused, we are also told to place our daypacks in the overhead compartment (never a requirement before).  As the mess is cleared by another man and we are returned to our rightful seats, we wonder if a scam is narrowly avoided.

As our four hour bus ride nears an end on a dark mountain road, we come upon the scene of a recent accident.  A pickup had lost control and tipped onto its side, spilling pigs, chickens and people everywhere.  The bus stops and the men clear out to take action.  With a man still in the cab, the entire collection of Cuenca-bound men (us included!) combine effort to push the badly damaged pickup back onto its wheels.  With the truck running and no tires damaged, a boulder is removed from underneath, livestock reloaded and the truck, and bus, go on their way.

With the delay we arrive in Cuenca after 9PM and find our hostel a short time later.  Relieved that our transportation marathon is finally over, we all sleep very deeply for the first time in a long time.