At the precise moment that I took off to Argentina in February, the country began descent into the worst economic crisis it has seen since economic default in 2001. Arriving to this bustling South American metropolis for the first time, I anticipated the head rush of being confronted with all things unfamiliar at once; navigating the city’s convoluted and infamously imprecise public transportation system, nervously striking up conversation in a non-native tongue while desperately trying to make sense of the Rioplatense accent, and moving into a pleasant but unfamiliar family’s home as a long- term guest are just a few of the dizzying aspects of culture shock I faced early on. However, what I did not anticipate was shock that would hit the citizens of Argentina at the same time—an economic shock that would send an already chaotic city into further frenzy.
In January 2014, when the central bank of Argentina dipped below steady reserve rates, President Christina Kirchner’s government was forced to drop its fiscal policy of shoring up the over-valued peso in the foreign exchange market with US dollars. In addition, the current government devalued the Argentine peso by 20 percent in an attempt to move the official peso rate closer to the unofficial “blue” rate as another stabilization effort in the unsteady economy. The initially slight decrease in available US dollars quickly sent the value of the Argentine peso plummeting further as Argentines nationwide exchanged their pesos for US dollars in fear that this situation was all too similar to the economic devastation that the country faced in 2001. Between impressive inflation rates, dwindling US dollar reserves, and failed promises from the current government to not devalue the peso, tensions in Argentina are at a decade high.
As a Georgetown University student studying political science and psychology, observing the social and political effects of the recent crisis as a resident of Buenos Aires has been an indescribably enriching experience in terms of the invaluable perspective I have gained from this viewpoint.
In the last seven weeks, I have continued to adjust to my life in Buenos Aires, living alongside citizens who also face seemingly continuous adjustments around them as well. Both the official and unofficial peso rate change so frequently that businesses have updated their prices almost daily. At my favorite coffee shop, Ateneo, the price for my café con leche has shifted between three price points depending on how the economy is doing that day.
The citizens of Buenos Aires, on a whole, take a remarkable interest in their country’s politics, no matter if they are undergrads studying art history or retired chefs; it seems to me from my conversations that every Porteño has an impressive understanding of their country’s political discourse, and the majority have solid opinions about what should be done. What’s particularly remarkable in my experience here is that even in the midst of economic strife and understandable frustration, every Argentine I have met has been uncommonly friendly and incredibly proud of their country. They take time to sit and enjoy their friend’s company over a coffee, they are more than happy to explain a political aspect I or anyone is unclear about, and they possess the South American charm and hospitality I have long admired in this continent’s culture. Having the opportunity to talk to so many citizens—live alongside them, sharing bus rides, coffee. and crisis—it is clear to me that while both I and Buenos Aires are experiencing great changes, we are both happy to be here.
Tiffany Lachhonna graduated from Georgetown College in 2015 with a major in government. She participated in the Berkley Center's Junior Year Abroad Network during the spring and summer 2014 while studying in Buenos Aires, Argentina.
