My plan was to leave for Salta today. Unfortunately, I had bought a five-trip bus pass to save a bit of money, and therefore had to depend on the company to issue my bus ticket and mail it to me. To be on the safe side, I had requested the ticket three days ago. An exchange of mails ensued in which they first proposed a schedule for the wrong city, then provided me with wrong information about possible connections, then failed to see their mistake - all the while being completely unreachable by phone. In the end, I just tried to get them to issue any ticket at all. Fifteen minutes before they closed, they confirmed that they would issue my ticket now. So I waited... and waited... until, an hour later at 9 pm, I finally asked the hostel if I could stay another night.
The next morning, I finally succeeded in calling them. Turns out there was a big storm in Buenos Aires in the evening, and they had no electricity and thus couldn't issue any tickets. On the phone everything was resolved quickly, and by now, I am on the bus, albeit one day later than I wanted.
But still, the episode got me thinking. Their terms and conditions say that under no circumstances am I entitled to any kind of reimbursement, and in addition I can't give back my pass. So basically they made me lose a day, pay for food and accommodation, and still expect me to be a happy customer.
Honestly, with companies taking our time and money like this, why on earth do we worry about opportunity theft on the street?
In the afternoon, I visited the house-turned-museum of writer Horacio Quiroga who spent a part of his life in San Ignacio. Quiroga really had a tragic life: as a baby, he witnessed his father's accidental suicide, then lost two brothers to typhoid fever, his first wife to suicide, and finally his second wide left him. I forgot if his death was tragic too, but given the rest of his life, it wouldn't surprise me. The museum is hidden in the forest a little outside of San Ignacio and has a very soft and tranquil atmosphere. It starts with a winding path through a bamboo forest where signs tell Quiroga's life story.
At the end of the path, you find his first house and a replica of his second, along with a number of items he owned.
The museum also had a board showing the ten rules he had for writing. I found the ninth one particularly fitting. It goes something like this: "Don't write under the influence of emotion. Let it die first and evoke it again later. If you are then capable of reliving it as it was, you have at halfway arrived at art."
I'm thinking I should read something he wrote one day :-)
The next morning, I finally succeeded in calling them. Turns out there was a big storm in Buenos Aires in the evening, and they had no electricity and thus couldn't issue any tickets. On the phone everything was resolved quickly, and by now, I am on the bus, albeit one day later than I wanted.
But still, the episode got me thinking. Their terms and conditions say that under no circumstances am I entitled to any kind of reimbursement, and in addition I can't give back my pass. So basically they made me lose a day, pay for food and accommodation, and still expect me to be a happy customer.
Honestly, with companies taking our time and money like this, why on earth do we worry about opportunity theft on the street?
In the afternoon, I visited the house-turned-museum of writer Horacio Quiroga who spent a part of his life in San Ignacio. Quiroga really had a tragic life: as a baby, he witnessed his father's accidental suicide, then lost two brothers to typhoid fever, his first wife to suicide, and finally his second wide left him. I forgot if his death was tragic too, but given the rest of his life, it wouldn't surprise me. The museum is hidden in the forest a little outside of San Ignacio and has a very soft and tranquil atmosphere. It starts with a winding path through a bamboo forest where signs tell Quiroga's life story.
At the end of the path, you find his first house and a replica of his second, along with a number of items he owned.
The museum also had a board showing the ten rules he had for writing. I found the ninth one particularly fitting. It goes something like this: "Don't write under the influence of emotion. Let it die first and evoke it again later. If you are then capable of reliving it as it was, you have at halfway arrived at art."
I'm thinking I should read something he wrote one day :-)
