STRIKE! You're Out!

Okay, not that kind of strike. But yes, the strikes continue to follow us.

My hubby was on his way home and I knew only two things about his trip: he'd left at 11:30 a.m. and expected to be home by 11:30 p.m. and his bus only went as far as Cordoba where he planned to catch another bus for the last leg of the journey.

Then our co-workers called yesterday afternoon to let me know the inter-city buses were on strike again (the last time was when we were trying to get back from Resistencia). And I had no way to call my hubby, en route from Buenos Aires, because his cell phone battery was about dead and he had turned it off in hopes he'd have just enough to call me when he got in so I could go up and unlock the gate.

I won't bore you with all the ways we tried to reach him. It reached epic comic proportions and we finally just piled into the co-workers' van and headed to Cordoba, hoping to intercept him before he grabbed a taxi (the only other alternative for getting the last 30 miles home).

And Praise God because we actually managed to connect with him at the bus terminal. Which was a mad house since not only were the inter-city buses on strike, they weren't letting any other buses load or unload in the terminal so buses were pulling over wherever they could on the perimeter of the bus station.

The hubby remembered too late his determination after the first bus strike to always get a bus straight through to Carlos Paz. And you can't blame him after the week he's had. I'm hoping he'll either do a guest post about the customs experience, or give me enough information so I can write about it.

So even though I wasn't referring to that kind of STIRKE! in my headline, I think he does feel like he spent a good deal of the week striking out in this crazy game they call customs.