Gringo in Residence

I’m not sure how long it takes before you can say, you have actually lived in a place. Definitely more than the month or so we’ve spent in and around Mendoza. Still when you buy a local bus pass and people in the neighbourhood start to recognize you, I think you’re something more than just a casual visitor. I’ve started to think of myself as the local ‘Gringo in Residence’.

It’s nice not to rush, not to have choose between doing this or that, to be able to say, we’ll do that next week, or even next month. It’s nice to have the luxury of time to let the flavor of a place seep in, to start to know it’s rhythms.

Our lives have begun to fall into a familiar rhythm of their own, with grocery shopping, laundry, garbage days and time to read or do nothing at all. Chores are done in the morning when it’s cool. It’s been 30-40°C (86-104°F) every day since we arrived. Afternoons are for siestas. Most businesses close between 1 and 5 pm. The city comes alive again in the evening. Restaurants don’t even open until 8 or 9 pm, and it’s not unusual to see families with little kids strolling in the parks at midnight.

Mendoza is a comfortable city. Though it was founded in 1561, it doesn’t have the colonial feel or architecture of other Argentine cities. An earthquake in 1861 destroyed most of the buildings and killed thousands. Mendoza was rebuilt with more modern urban designs, including streets and sidewalks that are much wider than most other South American cities. The result is a city that feels light and spacious. The streets are tree-lined and deeply shaded, which is welcome in the summer heat. There are parks, plazas and public spaces scattered throughout. 970 acre Parque San Martin is Mendoza’s answer to Central Park, with a zoo, a soccer stadium, monuments and museums. There is a lively café life, with most restaurants spilling out onto the sidewalks. The Argentinians have adopted the Italian notion of “la dolce vita” wholeheartedly.

The house we are renting is close to the city center. Just about everything we need is within easy walking distance. (Or a short motorcycle ride). Several bus lines run along our street – noisy, but convenient – and the MendoTrans train is only a block away. And we have a nice patio and backyard to enjoy, when it’s not too hot.

I’m tempted to say we feel at home, but the truth is more nuanced than that. It’s nice to unpack and not be living out of a suitcase, however there is a certain sense of dislocation. All our “stuff”, both physical and mental points of reference are 9,000 km away. And, though people have been extraordinarily kind and welcoming, there is no escaping the fact that we are “strangers in a strange land”. It’s not just the big things like language or eating dinner at 9 o’clock. It’s a hundred little things everyday, even silly things, like the fact that there is no peanut butter –  good peanuts, but no peanut butter. It just doesn’t exist.

There are no front yards here. Everything is walled, gated and barred, often topped with razor wire and electric fencing. Yet Mendoza feels very safe, at least the part we’ve gotten to know. We rarely hear sirens and that’s something I’m attuned to. The streets and public spaces are well lit. As I said, families are out strolling until the wee hours. I’ve asked a few people about what seems to me like a fortress mentality and they just shrug. I think it’s a bit like asking a fish to explain water.

I try to be careful about judging other people and cultures by my standards. I’m not Argentinian, so my Canadian perspective is naturally skewed. My impressions, by their nature, are subjective.

Still, it seems like there’s an aspect of faded glory to Argentina as a whole. Or maybe it’s potential that was never fully achieved – a country longing for some idealized version of itself. You can’t help noticing the peeling paint and broken sidewalks. An air force monument near our house is a prime example – aside from the peeling paint, the eagle’s head is missing and the stump has been covered by a garbage bag. Choices in the supermarket, particularly imported items, are extremely limited and half the menu isn’t available in most restaurants. The main reason is that the Argentine economy has been a disaster for decades. Which is odd, because the country has great wealth. There is a large industrial base, petroleum and other resources. The agricultural sector exports huge amounts of not only wine, but grain, soybeans and beef. Education and literacy rates are on par with Canada and other developed nations.

Despite this, inflation reached a staggering 95% in 2022. It still feels odd, but I’m slowly getting used to having thick stacks of 1,000 peso notes, the largest denomination. Anything imported, even salmon from Chile, is brutally expensive. It’s almost impossible to get a mortgage. Properties are priced in US dollars and paid for in cash! (How? I have no idea.) When I ask why the economy is such a mess, people shake their heads. They mention corruption and cronyism, the government’s willingness to simply print money to cover expenses, a lack of long term planning, poor infrastructure, the lack of foreign investment… It’s a complicated issue and I’m not an economist. I guess if it was easy to fix, there wouldn’t be a problem.

It’s tough on the working class, but it makes Argentina a bargain for travelers like us.

Still, as Argentinians are proud to point out, theirs is a more egalitarian society. There is almost no homelessness and little obvious poverty. Panhandlers are extremely rare. Public healthcare is free, and high quality. University tuition costs about US$50 per month – affordable for anyone who wants it.

There is still a lot of pride here, and I think justifiably so. Argentina has a rich if sometimes troubled history. There are abundant resources and fertile land. For me Argentina’s greatest asset is its people – fatalistic, but ever hopeful that there are better times ahead. In the meantime, lets get a table in the shade, and enjoy a coffee and a piece of cake.

At least that’s how it looks to the ‘Gringo in Residence’.

More photos from our life in Mendoza.