Four Itchy Feet

December 3, 2025. Buenos Aires, Argentina.

We’ve roamed the world these past five years since we retired. We’ve faced storms, some big, some small. But money—real money, the kind you hold in your hand—was never the problem. Until Buenos Aires.

We bank with Bank of America. Their travel rewards card has been our ally for years. It gives us cash back and covers rental cars, canceled flights, lost luggage, the works. Land in a country, find an ATM, withdraw local currency. Simple. The bank converts it at good rates, absorbs the fees. It always worked.

Not this time.

We hit the ATM in Buenos Aires. It spit out 20,000 pesos—barely $20. That wouldn’t do. We’d heard of another way: Western Union.

Setting up the transfer was easy. Their app works fine. But getting the cash? That was the trick. We hunted down their offices, but most were dry—no cash to give. Finally, we found a big one and got there early, fifteen minutes before it opened. It worked.

We turned $300 into 353,000 pesos. It sounded good until we saw it: stacks of bills. One hundred notes of 2,000 pesos, one hundred and fifty of 1,000. We walked out with three fat stacks. You’d need a backpack if you tried for more.

Cash in Argentina is strange and scarce. Banks have lines, long ones, outside ATMs that give out little at a time. Businesses offer discounts for cash payments. And the bills? Small, always small. A puzzle: why not print bigger notes? It would make life easier.

Then there’s the taxes. Twenty-five, thirty percent on everything. Maybe that’s why cash is king. Businesses avoid taxes; the government squeezes the flow of cash. Inflation runs wild. You see it on restaurant boards, the exchange rates scrawled in chalk. They change while you eat. But don’t let this stop you. Buenos Aires is alive and beautiful. We’re here for months, and there’s joy in every corner. Challenges are part of the journey. Keep traveling.