To the South: the good, the bad, and the ugly

Our trip so far has been full of adventure!

AIR TRAVEL (the bad)
We left Caracas, Venezuela, at 9:00 pm on Friday night, arriving to Sao Paolo, Brazil at about 5:00 am local time on Saturday (4:00 am Venezuela time).  After each sleeping an hour while the other watched the bags, we paid too much for bottles of water, Julio bought some havaianas flip-flops, and we got in line to board our 8:30 am plane.  Based on our seating assignments we were in the last group to board.  When the flight attendent looked at my passport, she said I had to pay a fee to enter Argentina (all Americans do, along with Australians and a few other nationalities), and sent us running down the terminal to another gate to resolve the problem with "Fabiana."
Fabiana was no where to be found, so we rushed back.  After phone calls, we were told that it was too late for this flight; they would remove our bags from the plane and put us on the 11:30 am flight.  Resigned, we sat down, and Julio got out the computer as I watched a few stragglers arrive running and pass through the doors and along the jetway.
After a while, a different flight attendent came over and said he could help us pay the fee online, so we hurriedly did so.  I was surprised at the cost (1,500 argentine pesos) but we just did what he told us to, wrote down the confirmation number, and got on the plane.  [My apologies to our flight mates for having to wait while they first removed our luggage and then put it back on again.  We left an hour behind schedule.]
When it was my turn to pass through immigration in Buenos Aires, I gave the confirmation number, which didn't appear in the system.  The official passed into the office with the information, came back out, looked at the digital receipt for what we had paid, took our computer into the office, and came back out, still saying that we hadn't paid it and therefore I could not enter the country!
I started imagining being deported, while Julio (who had already been admitted with no trouble) stayed in Buenos Aires waiting for me!  The solution was not deportation, thankfully, but rather they found an airline official to accompany me to the hall outside of their VIP lounge, where I got internet signal and was able to pay the correct fee ($160 on top of the $300 I had already paid erroneously).  I was permitted to enter the Republic of Argentina, and we made our way to the hotel.

BUENOS AIRES (the good and a little bad, too)
Hostel Suites Florida is a great hostel/hotel, very centrally located on a pedestrial street, within walking distance of the subway and most of the tourist sites in the Argentine capital.  Bs.As. reminds me of D.C. in a lot of ways, but bigger.  We had a great time walking around, discovering the city, trying to find affordable restaurants, and even renting bikes on our last morning to ride down to the ecological reserve on the edge of the city (a green space with trails for walking, running, or biking, that leads down to the sea).

The only negative moment of our "tourist time" in the city was having to go to the Migrations office in an attempt to cancel the $300 payment we accidentally made.  We were sent from one office to the next -- I think no one knew what to do with us.  They couldn't understand how we paid for an appointment to apply for residency, when we only meant to pay the reciprocity fee for me to enter as a tourist!  After an hour or so we made photocopies of everything and wrote a letter explaining the situation and requesting cancellation of payment, left it all with a receptionist, and left.  We still haven't heard anything.

A SNEAKY MAN (the really ugly part)
On Tuesday we hailed a cab to the bus terminal, with all our luggage in tow.  After a few blocks, the driver started asking if we had small bills to pay with.  We did, but then he asked if they had the new serial numbers, because his taxi company would only receive those from him.  He pulled over and had us pull out our cash, showing us how to check the codes printed on each one.  While we were there, confused and seeing that none of our bills were acceptable, someone banged on the back window, saying he needed the cab urgently.  As he opened the door, the driver told us to put away the money and get out; to go exchange the bills at a bank or to find a cabbie who worked for himself instead of a taxi company.  Suddenly we were on a busy street corner with our suitcases and we couldn't get a cab there.  After walking up and down the street, we finally got another taxi and made it to the terminal... where we discovered that the first driver had robbed us!  Instead of the $450 pesos we had ($90 USD), we had only $30 pesos ($6 USD).  We were able to pay the taxi and get to our 3:00 pm bus on time.  I, of course, was crying because I was so mad, and Julio was in shock, and we both felt helpless.  We prayed together, and slept a little.

GOD AND BARILOCHE (this is where it gets really good)
When I woke up I felt a bit better.  I pulled out The Message and opened up where I had left off: Habbakuk.  Eugene Peterson's intro to the book knocked me off my feet (except I was already sitting):

"Living by faith is a bewildering venture.  We rarely know what's coming next, and not many things turn out the way we anticipate.  It is natural to assume that since I am God's chosen and beloved, I will get favorable treatment from the God who favors me so extravagantly.  It is not unreasonable to expect that from the time that I become his follower, I will be exempt from dead ends, muddy detours, and cruel treatment from the travelers I meet daily who are walking the other direction.  That God-followers don't get preferential treatment in life always comes as a surprise."

That's exactly how we were feeling.  And, as promised, Habbakuk proved to be a very welcome companion in our moment of confusion, as he bluntly took questions to God and waited for the answer -- which totally changed his heart -- and then boldly declares faith in God's goodness, even in the face of evil.  

After that we were able to enjoy the trip (and after a while I even stopped thinking of all we "should have done"), and the sights were beautiful!  Argentina's topography and ecosystems amazed me: first, a vast costal plain filled with corn and soy fields; then (during the night, sadly) comes the Pampa, which is the grasslands I had read about and longed to see; in the morning I awoke to find ourselves in a sort of Southwestern America arid rangelands.  A few hours later we began a slow ascent into the Patagonian Lakes District, with sights that took my breath away: deep blue skies topped the rolling tan-green hills with rocky, tower-like outcroppings.  Below, small stands of solemn, dark pines surrounded enormous aquamarine lakes that we crossed over on bridges, and upstream we snaked along with a wide, smooth river of glacial origins in the heart of the cordillera -- the snowy mountains we were just beginning to see on the horizon.

At noon on Wednesday (21 hours later), we arrived to San Carlos de Bariloche: Argentina's most famous ski town, nestled down on the edge of a deep blue, wind-swept lake.  It is cold and windy, especially after a month in hot Venezuela and a few days in the Buenos Aires late summer warmth.  The bus terminal is very small.  There is no ATM.  They do not have internet.  Even the phone service wasn't working.  The information desk lady sent us a block up the street to a restaurant with WiFi.  We explained our situation and the owner lent us the internet and then the phone, so that we could call the local YWAM base.
They came to pick us up!  They gave us lunch!  I had a hot shower!  They called friends, who agreed to house us!  God cares for us and thwarts Satan's bad plans into good for us!
So here we are in a small apartment above the carport (but much bigger than our apartment in Merida), safe, warm, fed, and rested.  Even better, this family is planning to drive into Chile on Monday and has agreed to give us a lift, saving us the money and hassel of taking a bus!