Inflation, Mullets and a New President, October 2007

You can hear people talking about it in the cafes, overhear bits and pieces of complaining in the restaurants, and you can’t escape a discussion of it at the supermarket – it’s the “I” word. Inflation.

It’s hard for those of us who have never experienced hyperinflation to understand the level of fear inflation causes in Argentina. To give some perspective, inflation in the U.S. hasn’t been in the double digits (in recent history) since the 1970s, and then it only averaged out to be around 9% per year. In 1989, Argentina’s inflation reached a rate of 200% per month, at one point topping 3000% annually. And why? Not because of a global oil crisis or financial disaster—just because of inept (and often corrupt) politicians who implemented bad economic policy and couldn’t control national spending or debt. I would be worried too if my assets were in Argentine pesos.

Of course, you won’t hear any sort of admission that inflation exists from the Argentine government, especially during a Presidential election. My husband laughed out loud the other day reading the paper, when he read a quote of a government official who hilariously stated, "Prices may be rising, but that doesn't mean there is inflation." The President went on to state that the government's widely criticized and easily manipulated statistical agency, INDEC, was "perfect", in its assessment of the local economy and inflation statistics. Politicians here have perfected passing off fantasy as reality to the public, and sometimes the international community plays right along. In an example of life imitating art, the government’s highly suspect inflation figures are considered “official”. The International Monetary Fund’s policy (IMF) is to use official inflation figures from governments to report on the status of a country’s economy. So, the IMF uses the Argentine government’s “officially” low inflation statistics, and then the Argentine government quotes the IMF inflation figures to prove they are effectively controlling inflation. Following economic policy here requires a fantastic sense of humor.

A woman in the supermarket a few weeks back asked me what the price was for strawberries, and I was embarrassed to admit that I didn't know. I know I want strawberries, and whatever price they are here, they still can’t be as expensive as they were in Puerto Rico last July (almost US $8 for a box). So, I told her the truth. "Honestly, I don't know. I'll just get depressed about the price anyway." To which she replied, "I don't know who is worse! George Bush or our pig of a President! He says there is no inflation in this country. Well, I own two horses. I know that I used to pay 12 pesos per kilo for alfalfa for my horses, and now I pay 24. If that isn't inflation, what is?!? So, where are you from?"

Prices for some vegetables here are now higher than the prices for meat, thanks to price controls and export taxes. The paper ran a story recently about how it’s now cheaper to eat steak than salad in Argentina. It reminds me of the movie “Napoleon Dynamite”, where the teenager from Idaho is left with a freezer full of meat (and a cow outside for slaughtering) when his caretaker leaves him on his own for a few weeks.

The local angst over food prices is still hard for me to grasp--someone who knows that shopping and eating here is still significantly less expensive than it is in the U.S., Europe, or Africa for that matter. I can still get a salad here for under $8 at a nice restaurant, with stellar service. When is the last time you could do that in London, New York or Washington, D.C.? I figure when prices are higher than they are in those cities, I’ll start to worry. Used to living in an economic Fantasy Land, the Argentines don’t want to admit that although prices are rising, they were artificially low to begin with, established in the aftermath of the latest financial crisis (2001). That had to change sometime, right? They also don’t want to consider how prices here are significantly less expensive than they are next door in Chile, Uruguay or Brazil. But asking the average Argentine to look outside their own country for perspective, would be akin to asking a Republican in the U.S. to vote for Hilary Clinton – ain’t gonna happen.

I think the local myopia is related to the rugged individualism that reigns supreme in Argentina, even more so in the countryside than in the city. An Argentine woman was trying to explain to me at a dinner party how individualistic Argentines really are. “We are much more individualistic than Americans. Just think how many times we have been cheated and defrauded by politicians. That makes us only want to worry about ourselves, since no one else will.” She went on to say that this attitude manifests itself in dozens of ways from how Argentines drive (“Screw you, I’m driving heah!”), to how they vote (“I’ll vote for whoever will get me that raise I want!”) to how they act in the supermarket (“I’m having an emergency. I really need to skip in front of you in line.”).

Individualistic behavior or not, I take comfort in the fact that at least no one here will call me a “douchebag”, an insult I must have overheard 100 times during a quick, Mommy-needs-a-break escape trip to New York City last week. In fact, I realized many times during that trip how nice Buenos Aires (the part I live and hang out in anyway) is in comparison to New York City. The highways here are better maintained. At tolls, the law is if you are forced to wait for more than two minutes before you can pay, all the cars start beeping and the tolls are opened so that traffic doesn’t back up. People in the service industry are amazingly pleasant (waiters, cashiers, nurses). The stores are cleaner, the airport staff are less surly, I could go on and on. Initially reluctant to return to my domestic routine in Argentina, once I arrived I was actually glad to have left America—a feeling I have never experienced before, in all the places I’ve lived.
There is just so much cultural stuff to do here, cheaply. A few weeks back, Buenos Aires hosted its annual museum night. On this one night each year, all the museums of the city are free, and each hosts cultural events and special exhibitions all night long. A 2am, the party concluding museum night starts in Puerto Madero. My husband and I took advantage and checked out one of the many modern art museums housed in a gorgeous early century building with a courtyard and a beautiful al fresco café. The café had comfy couches and coffee tables set up by candlelight, and we sat under the stars, sipping our drinks, people watching, and listening to a live Beethoven piano concert being held inside. Ah, spring in “Good Airs”.

The sun is out in force and the weather (70-80 degrees F) is fantastic. Even the mosquitoes and my constant viewing of the ubiquitous “mullet” hairstyle I despise, so favored by Argentines young and old, can’t get me down these days. Of course I do fantasize about becoming an on-the-street photographer, spending my days capturing photos of people (and the poor children! The horror!) who wear this hairstyle, uploading my portraits to the various mullet websites that exist to mock those who dare to wear this abomination of a hairstyle!

But, I digress. In Presidential election news, first lady Cristina Fernandez de Kirchner was elected the President of Argentina last Sunday. It is the first time a woman has made it to the Presidency here by being elected. She already seems to be more globally oriented and less anti-American than her husband (visiting the U.S., meeting our Ambassador here, trying to make nice with European governments), which for me is a step in the right direction. Now all she needs to do is be smart about Argentina’s debt, curb inflation (when all constituencies will be screaming for increased salaries), and get in front of the looming energy crisis. No problem! I guess in comparison, tackling these issues can’t be as hard as the many crises the next U.S. President will inherit. A sad comment on my country.

Anyway, Cristina won the elections with less than 45% of the vote, so her election in some ways wasn’t exactly a slam-dunk. My husband and I were chatting with a taxi driver on the way to museum night, and he brought up Barack Obama and his surprise that "un negro" could potentially win a Presidential race in America (go figure—a racist Argentine!). We replied that we liked Obama, and pointed out that in Argentina, a woman could win their presidency. "God help us", he replied. As I got out of the cab and paid I said, "Well, good luck with your elections, and wish us luck with ours." He countered, "Well, you can vote for the black guy, and I'll vote for anyone else except for that (female) viper."

And finally, on the home front, my pregnancy is progressing well. I’m at 26 weeks and I have no health complaints so I am thankful for that, but I must admit I really don’t enjoy being pregnant. In addition to the discomforts to my back and difficulty sleeping, what I really despise is the lack of privacy that comes along with pregnancy, as well as the constant tests, poking and prodding, and endless doctor’s appointments, always bringing some good, but some potentially bad news as well. And I hate people staring at me, touching my belly and commenting on how big it is, “Que panza tenes!” My latest cold reply has been, “Yes. That is what happens.” Douchebag!!!

I long for the anonymity of being a “normal” person again, someone who no one bothers to take a second look at except to think (what most Argentines probably do), “She needs to lose some weight!” I have never lived in a more weight-obsessed country in my life. After Japan, Argentina has the highest percentage of women per capita suffering from anorexia in the world. I wonder why. Dresses at boutiques here come in sizes 1, 2 and 3 (3 being the equivalent of a 6-8 in the U.S.). Its ridiculous, and what is worse is that pregnant ladies here are expected to look like emaciated waifs with small belly bumps! In fact, I just left a doctor’s appointment where the obstetrician tore me a new one for gaining 3.5 lbs over a period of 6 weeks. I replied, “Look, I’m pregnant! That’s what happens! We gain weight. I’m not going to diet because of some local obsession!” Granted, I neglected to mention all the Dunkin Donuts and chocolate malts and bagels and sesame chicken and french fries I ingested while on vacation in New York, but come on! Being pregnant and being on vacation are the two best reasons EVER to food binge! Plus, the salads here are getting really expensive…