Junkie Train

Buenos Aires has this certain something that makes me claustrophobic. Maybe it’s the lack of real nature, all the cement, the smog or the grim-faced fast-paced people that come and go unceasingly.


This particular story I’m about to tell you is set on a Friday afternoon, at about 6pm. My boyfriend and I where in need of breaking the routine and a bit of fresh air, but we where also on a tight budget and we had to be back for work early the following Monday.


After looking at a few possible destinations, we chose Mar del Plata where, oddly enough for an Argentine, I had never been to.
By then it was about 7pm, we rushed to the closest Camping gear shop and bought a decent tent for two. We searched online and the next train heading there left at 11pm. We headed to the train station at about 10 and got seats for Economy class at something like 35 pesos each (cheap, very cheap).

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11pm, the station is packed, people sitting on the dirty floor, kids running around, mothers scolding their children, youngsters dinking cheap wine mixed with who-knows-what out of plastic bottles.


11.30 still the same scenery; some of the younger kids start to cry, even more people than before are sitting on the filthy floor. We have all moved to the platform now. The train that was to depart before ours already did.


12am, I really need to sit, I do so on the tent. Pablo joins me a few moments later. Some teens and very dodgy looking guys are already pissed (drunk). People start to clap and protest because the train is already running an hour late.


12.30, people are tired, no kids running around anymore, many have fallen asleep on the bare floor. The dodgy guys have finished various bottles of that almost poisonous beverage they where having.


12.50, the train arrives, after making a few manoeuvres we are called to board, and here is where the real adventure begun.

To be continued...