An Unfiltered Account of a Chaotic Train Ride in Argentina
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 who come and go unceasingly.
This particular story I’m about to tell you is set on a Friday afternoon at about 6 pm. My boyfriend (Pablo) and I were in need of breaking the routine and getting a bit of fresh air, but we were 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. By then, it was about 7 pm, so 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 11 pm. We headed to the train station around 10 pm and managed to get seats for Economy class at something like 35 pesos each (cheap, very cheap).
The Train Station Chaos
11 pm: The station is packed, with people sitting on the dirty floor, kids running around, mothers scolding their children, and youngsters drinking cheap wine mixed with who-knows-what out of plastic bottles.
11:30 pm: Still the same scene. Some of the younger kids start to cry, and even more people than before are sitting on the filthy floor. We’ve all moved to the platform now, and the train that was supposed to depart before ours already did.
12 am: I really need to sit, so I do so on the tent. Pablo joins me a few moments later. Some teens and dodgy-looking guys are already drunk. People start clapping and protesting because the train is already running an hour late.
12:30 am: People are tired; no kids are running around anymore. Many have fallen asleep on the bare floor. The dodgy guys have finished various bottles of the almost poisonous beverage they were drinking.
12:50 am: The train arrives. After making a few maneuvers, we’re called to board. And here is where the real adventure begins.
The Real Adventure Begins
We are the last to board, trying to avoid the chaos unfolding around us. The platform is crowded, people pushing and shoving to get on. The atmosphere is tense, but we hold back, waiting until the rush calms down.The wagon is dark, and as we walk down the aisle, we dodge people already slumped over in their seats or standing. In the darkness, I spot two kids, around 10 to 13 years old. They're huddling together, holding a lighter to heat up a spoon with something on it. Pablo nudges me to keep going. We continue on and find our seats.
There’s a drunk homeless man passed out in one of them. We wake him up, let him know these are our seats, and he asks me to hold his drink—a plastic bottle with its top cut off, wrapped in a plastic bag. It's wet and sticky. He tries to dig through his pockets to find his ticket, but he’s too drunk to see clearly. Pablo offers to read the ticket for him and directs him to another seat. The man agrees and moves.
The train is loud now, with music, arguments, and laughter echoing in the dark wagon. Pablo gestures for me to sit by the window, and we settle in.
At around 1:30 am, the train starts moving. The lights slowly turn on, powered by the train’s movement. The noise continues, but we try to ignore it as we both settle in for what will be a long night.
Pablo eventually goes to the toilet and tells me to hold off, as there are too many drunk men lingering near the bathroom. I can’t hold it in for long, though. When I go, it’s a crude toilet, just a hole in the floor of the train, and I make my way back without much trouble.
Finally, I take out the sleeping bag and try to sleep. The chaos and noise keep going, but nobody bothers us.
The Morning After: The Unexpected Twist
When we wake up, we are already at our destination. As we’re packing up the sleeping bag, we are the last ones to leave. When I step off the train, two things happen at once:- Our entire wagon is lined up, with everyone kneeling, hands behind their heads. The police and dogs are there, and they’ve arrested everyone.
- My flip-flop strap breaks as I step down.
We stop in a bit of panic but we’re waved off by the police, and without missing a beat, we keep walking. I kick off the broken flip-flop and feel the cool ground beneath my feet. We made it out, but the trip—disordered and unpredictable—has left me thinking about the unpredictability of life itself. As we walk through the city, I can’t help but feel that this weekend will be different, the experience more than just a chaotic train ride.
Comments
Post a Comment