In Ushuaia, Argentina, the slums are above the rest of the city. There is a visible line where it changes; the last paved street runs horizonatally and muddy dirt roads branch off up the hill. The higher you get, the worse off the roads and houses are. Eventually, it gets so muddy that wooden pallets are put down in the hopes of making trails, and corrugated sheets of metal piled for bridges, attempts that fail as mud and dirty water is everywhere. Mutts and unleashed, free dogs run around, growling and barking if you come near, and they aren't the kind type of dogs you can pet; if you get too close, you will be attacked. I was bit on the back of the leg by a bastardly little excuse for a dog, but luckily it wasn't serious.
I had been walking back to the campsite, Pista del Andino, from the Irish bar in town, The Dublin, on that last paved road. It was late night when I came across 2 guys, about my age, walking the opposite direction. A few seconds after passing me, they started asking me questions about where I was from, and a full conversation ensued in my broken spanish. I should have been more reserved I suppose, but when the two brothers, as I found out, invited me to a party with girls, booze and free candy, I accepted and began to follow them. We took a right turn and headed up one of the dirt roads, and, too late to back out now, I followed them through muddy paths, squelching yards and chicken fields, up broken stair flights and around too many corners to remember. We finally arrived at a dark, silent house, where the two brothers whispered frantic things to eachother before knocking on the door loudly.
An old man answered the door, and had an angry shouting match with the brothers before producing 2 packs of Quilmes bottles, the Argentinian beer. I was relieved, until my two new friends turned to me and suggested, not so politely, that I pay. I would have been happy to pay. The problem was, I didn't have any money on me. Not a single peso. They must have been either angry because either I wasn't the rich guy that they thought I was, or because I was a cheap bastard who didn't want to pay. Either way, they tried to take the packs, but the man refused to let them, and shoved one back in his house before the brothers could take both. The one brother, visibly mad and impatient, ran down the stairs but slipped and fell, breaking one of the bottles. The man in the door yelled one last time and shut the door. The three of us stood in the street, one brother a little more angry than the other. He was gesturing at me with another bottle, and shouting at me too fast for me to understand. I took that as my cue to leave, and turned around and started walking back down the hill.
I could tell the brothers were following me, but I stayed ahead of them until they jogged to catch up with me, and the more relaxed brother handed me a bottle. I took it and continued back the way we had came, with both brothers now trying to act like great friends of mine, smiling and joking, but the one brother slipped several more times, breaking another bottle, and it was easy to see they were acting. If anything, this made me more annoyed and nervous, and I was for the most part silent. Eventually, on one of the last broken flights of wooden stairs, they came around in front of me and asked me to sit down. As I remained standing, they remarked that I had a nice watch, and one of them wanted to know if I would like to trade it for his silver ring. Pretending not to understand a word I said in Spanish, they pushed the trade, until I took off my watch and gave it to them, taking the ring in exchange.
That watch wasn't anything special, it was a 30 dollar second-hand timepiece I had bought in Alaska a year earlier, so I didn't mind too much. The ring was a generic metal band, with random roman numerals printed on it that didn't make out any legible number or meaning. Nevertheless, I slipped it on and went to wave goodbye. The older brother said that he liked me shirt, but I did too, so I just turned around and left, this time without them following me.
Two blocks down the street, I looked back and saw the both of them peeking around a light-post. I couldn't believe these guys were serious, but I took a couple detours around the streets before heading up to the campsite, making a late dinner and going to sleep on the hillside.
I wish I still had the ring, but I unfortunately lost it at some point. It was an interesting night, and a good thing to learn. At least I got out with a new ring and a free beer. I've never bought a watch since, and I like it better than way.
I had been walking back to the campsite, Pista del Andino, from the Irish bar in town, The Dublin, on that last paved road. It was late night when I came across 2 guys, about my age, walking the opposite direction. A few seconds after passing me, they started asking me questions about where I was from, and a full conversation ensued in my broken spanish. I should have been more reserved I suppose, but when the two brothers, as I found out, invited me to a party with girls, booze and free candy, I accepted and began to follow them. We took a right turn and headed up one of the dirt roads, and, too late to back out now, I followed them through muddy paths, squelching yards and chicken fields, up broken stair flights and around too many corners to remember. We finally arrived at a dark, silent house, where the two brothers whispered frantic things to eachother before knocking on the door loudly.
An old man answered the door, and had an angry shouting match with the brothers before producing 2 packs of Quilmes bottles, the Argentinian beer. I was relieved, until my two new friends turned to me and suggested, not so politely, that I pay. I would have been happy to pay. The problem was, I didn't have any money on me. Not a single peso. They must have been either angry because either I wasn't the rich guy that they thought I was, or because I was a cheap bastard who didn't want to pay. Either way, they tried to take the packs, but the man refused to let them, and shoved one back in his house before the brothers could take both. The one brother, visibly mad and impatient, ran down the stairs but slipped and fell, breaking one of the bottles. The man in the door yelled one last time and shut the door. The three of us stood in the street, one brother a little more angry than the other. He was gesturing at me with another bottle, and shouting at me too fast for me to understand. I took that as my cue to leave, and turned around and started walking back down the hill.
I could tell the brothers were following me, but I stayed ahead of them until they jogged to catch up with me, and the more relaxed brother handed me a bottle. I took it and continued back the way we had came, with both brothers now trying to act like great friends of mine, smiling and joking, but the one brother slipped several more times, breaking another bottle, and it was easy to see they were acting. If anything, this made me more annoyed and nervous, and I was for the most part silent. Eventually, on one of the last broken flights of wooden stairs, they came around in front of me and asked me to sit down. As I remained standing, they remarked that I had a nice watch, and one of them wanted to know if I would like to trade it for his silver ring. Pretending not to understand a word I said in Spanish, they pushed the trade, until I took off my watch and gave it to them, taking the ring in exchange.
That watch wasn't anything special, it was a 30 dollar second-hand timepiece I had bought in Alaska a year earlier, so I didn't mind too much. The ring was a generic metal band, with random roman numerals printed on it that didn't make out any legible number or meaning. Nevertheless, I slipped it on and went to wave goodbye. The older brother said that he liked me shirt, but I did too, so I just turned around and left, this time without them following me.
Two blocks down the street, I looked back and saw the both of them peeking around a light-post. I couldn't believe these guys were serious, but I took a couple detours around the streets before heading up to the campsite, making a late dinner and going to sleep on the hillside.
I wish I still had the ring, but I unfortunately lost it at some point. It was an interesting night, and a good thing to learn. At least I got out with a new ring and a free beer. I've never bought a watch since, and I like it better than way.