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So we are now here in Rio Gallegos, Argentina. We’ve been here before (on our way to El Calafate), but we never thought we’d be back. It is an industrial/business town in the southern tip of mainland Argentina. We finished our trek in Parque Nacional Torres del Paine, Chile and tried to leave the next morning for Bariloche. Everyone in town told us that the best way to get to Bariloche was to go back through Rio Turbio (Argentine border town), catch an onward bus to Rio Gallegos, then another to Bariloche. Great. So we woke up yesterday morning and they said that no buses were going to Rio Turbio since it was some Argentine holiday so we had to wait for this morning to leave. OK, fine. So we get to the border crossing and that is where the fun began.

I don’t know how many of you loyal readers have crossed a foreign border overland (i.e. not from airport to airport), but it usually goes as follows. The country you are leaving has a post on their side where you show them your passport (and give them your tourist/visitor card if that applies), they look through it, find your entry stamp (to make sure you are legitimate, I suppose), then they give you an exit stamp. At this point, you are sort of a floating entity that is not officially “in” any country. Then you cross the geographical border to the country you are entering (in the case of Chile/Argentina it was a mountain pass) and stop at the immigrations office. They then give you an entry stamp (and possibly a new tourist card) and you have now legitimately entered the country. This gets more complicated for countries that require Visas (when we entered Brazil we first had to visit the consulate and pay our big American bucks), but neither Argentina nor Chile require Visas of U.S. citizens.

So the above fits the description of our crossing from Argentina to Chile a week ago. Today, however, was a different story. No problems on the Chilean side of the Andes. Then in Argentine immigrations, we wait in the long line (of course, us gringos were in the back of the line and the bus driver is getting anxious for whatever reason). Finally, we give our passports to the officer who takes a while flipping through it, types a few things in the computer, etc. then gives them back to us. OK. Our bus driver seemed satisfied with this so we followed him back out to the bus. As we are riding into the nearby border town (Rio Turbio), I flip through my passport and I have no new entry stamp from Argentina. Sure, I find the original one, dated March 8th (when we crossed from Brazil), and our exit stamp from a week ago when we left Argentina, but nothing showing that we were back in Argentina. Hmmm. I asked Meggie to look at hers and it was the same story so we thought that must be OK.

While we were buying our onward tickets to Rio Gallegos, we ran into a border guard who must have been off duty because he was not at the, er, border. We asked him if this situation was normal with our stamps and everything. Meghan gave him her passport and asked him in Spanish. He started looking through it and when I saw him start frowning and shaking his head, I had a feeling that was not a good sign. Hmmm.

So it was a good thing we had some time to kill before our onward bus left. It was also a good thing that we discovered this issue in the border town. We took a taxi back to the Argentine post and tried to explain the situation. They didn’t exactly remember us so the situation had the feeling of “say what?” attached to it. We tried to explain the situation. The same guard who reviewed our papers earlier grabbed the big stamp and was about to stamp our stuff when another guard told her something to give her pause. Oh great. So now she goes off to talk to someone else and we are wondering what is so complicated. Finally we get our passports back and I tell Meghan that I’m still doubtful that I have a new stamp. Meghan shows me her stamp so I think, “Ah, OK, I’m just crazy, I must have one too.” But there was this little voice in my head telling me to look just to make sure.

Sure enough, Meghan had received her entry stamp but I hadn’t. So we go to approach the guard again and I think we had worn out our welcome at this point. The look on her (the guard’s) face was not one of appreciation. The dialog went something like this:
MEGHAN: “El no tiene una estampa nueva” (He does not have a new stamp).
GUARD: “Si, el tiene” (Yes he does).
MEGHAN: “OK, ¿Donde?” (Where?).

At this point the guard snatches my passport back and goes rooting through it to find the nonexistent stamp. After looking through it twice with her superior now looking over her shoulder, I thought I saw a bit of self doubt and shock appear on her countenance. Now I’m thinking they are going to strip search me to try to find another passport that I must be smuggling or something. Finally I saw her stamp my passport. Never did we get an apology or even a feeling that they understood. The entire time I felt like they thought we were doing something wrong. Oh well.

Back to town now to try to pay the taxi driver with Chilean Pesos instead of Argentine (of which we had only 2 (about US$0.67 worth).

So now we’re in Rio Gallegos, stuck here until tomorrow morning, when we will get on the first of two long-haul buses to get to Bariloche the day after.