Fri 30 Jan 2009
Striking dock workers milling around the dock gates
Day before yesterday, at about 6 p.m. we took a taxi over to the lawyers for a little party. Attending were the delicate and bespectacled Ms. Attorney and her assistant, Tattoo’d Translator, Dishonest Pedro, Simon (surely and smelling of beer), Mike and I. We weren’t at all happy about having to be here and being forced to spread all these schmoleans around, and the tension was thick and cold as yesterdays grits. But this was the way forward and we are ready to get these motorcycles on the boat.
Niceties are exchanged, papers are handed around. I look at my stack and am appalled at the sheer number of words on the pages we’re here to sign. We were asked to pay 500 pesos to the translator and 660 to the attorney, 1160 pesos total ($350 usd). If you divide that by the number of words, including copies, we’re paying about 10 pesos a word. I look over at Tattoo and Ms. Attorney and think that they should be kissing me, because right now they sure were screwing me. But we sign everything and pass out the pesos.
Dishonest Pedro tells us that the next day, Thursday, he’ll go down to customs and get all the documents set. I have no faith in this guy and I want to make sure that the bikes are packed in the container and in customs before I leave this town, so I say “Great, and we’ll pack everything on Friday, right?” Excuses and run-around pour from his mouth like grease off a hot parilla, but after reminding him that he has two working days to write our names on a few papers, he says “Ok, Friday.”(Since I’m a little late in writing this, thats today!) We left the office, glad to have this behind us, but with no confidence that we’ve really made any headway.
Yesterday we got the call. Pedro wanted to let us know that that evening the dock workers were going on strike and he didn’t know how long it would last. He would vigorously endeavor to get things set so we could load the motos before the strike, but there was a lot of work to be done. He would call us when he had more information he said. Then he hung up the phone and went to the bar.
Today we may be no closer to getting the bikes packed than we were ten days ago when we started this insane process – or maybe we can close the door on the container. Its yet to be seen, but I do feel bit like Bolivar who said of his lifes work “I have plowed the sea”
Ushuaia at night
Ushuaia by day