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Siambretta – The Reassembly

Well, it has been a while now and there has been no news about my Siambretta which went under the surgeon’s knife before the weekend. When I left it at the workshop the indication was that it may take more than a week to fix. There were several things that were dependant on other people to finish and these were the unknown lengths of time.

So being of an inquisitive nature, I wandered back down to Mr Verdun’s place to check up on my bike. When I arrived, there he was in the process of putting the gearbox cover back on the bike. He was happy to see me and told me about many of the repairs that he has already made to the thing, showing me some of his work and explaining other parts of it that I could not directly see.

Mr Verdun wroking on my Siambretta
Mr Verdun sorting through the parts while working on my Siambretta.

With the cylinder head back together and the gearbox, clutch and drive-train assembled, the bike is starting to look almost ready. This was something that Mr Verdun was very quick to dispel, explaining that he still needs to glue the brake pads onto the shoes, fit the electronic ignition, create some parts to get the choke working, and so on. It was quite an extensive list. After giving me this list, he then tells me that it is likely that the bike will be ready in two days. That means Wednesday.

From my conversations with Mr Verdun, he is still a very strong Siambretta enthusiast and loves to see the bikes in good working order. He has been excited by the work I have asked him to perform on my bike and informs me that it will be a completely different motorbike to the one I left with him only a few days before.

Another benefit that has come from asking him to do this work for me is that some parts which I had been told were previously unavailable, are now appearing. It seems that Mr Verdun is eager to see the bike returned to a good state too, so now some of the rare parts that are reserved for good customers are becoming available. I guess that means that I am one of his good customers then.

Fixing up the gearbox
With a box of parts at his side, Mr Verdun fixes on the gearbox cover.

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Our Local Shop in Corrientes

Having been here for a long time, it was only recently that this shed situated right next to our property was opened as a shop. The guy that runs it, Ariel, actually started his Discipleship course with us back in July 2004. Now he works next to us and loves chatting with all an any who wander by.

It is not such a great building for a store, being just a big tin shed, but it has virtually everything that we could need and want. Chocolate, fizzy drinks, light bulbs, toilette paper, and of course all of the basic food items too. So this is now our local shop, only six paces outside our front gate.

local shop and owner
Ariel standing outside his shop.

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Buying a Siambretta – Paperwork and More Paperwork

Today has been the third consecutive day of paperwork for both Sergio and I. Things were looking really good today, and I was sure that we would get very close to finishing everything. As we paced our way down the narrow sidewalks, avoiding other rushing people and searching for the shadows in this blistering hot day, I cheerfully chirped to Sergio that we have almost finished it all now. Without batting an eyelid nor even offering a glance my way, he shot back, “well we have less to do now than when we started.”


Sergio heading to the windows where we paid our licence plate fees.

After that we walked along in silence for a while, as I chewed over his words. Having been through many purchases in his life, Sergio was no stranger to all of the different forms and processes involved in the deal. Perhaps there was something that I was missing? I shot another glance at our list of paperwork to complete before we could finalize the transfer of the bike into Sergio’s name. It all seemed so simple and clear. We had done the tough parts and there were only two items left on our list. It was obvious that we were almost done.

It did not take long before we reached our destination, the Transport Office, where we would then complete the next item on our list. We had just been to the provincial government office and paid our fees on the number plates that were outstanding. A stamped paper in our hands proving our payment gave us access to this next step, and with the two offices being only five blocks apart it seemed like a good idea to walk here.

On entering the Transport Office we were greeted by a cool refreshing blast of air-conditioning, reminding us of just how hot it was outside. A brief enquiry at the main desk and we found our way through to the back of the building into an area of open planned office spaces. A group of people hovered around the one desk with people behind it coming and going and chatting quietly between themselves. This was our destination also.


The Transport Office and our destination desk at the very end.

Leaning over the desk and presenting our paper when it was our turn, we were not expecting what we heard next. The lady looked over the paper and exclaimed, “You have paid too much.” She checked the paper once again and told us that because the bike was built in 1962, we only had to pay the fees on the plates for the year 2000 and everything after that was free. Even though there were outstanding amounts listed, these would be wiped out when we finished the process.

But we could not finish the process just yet. The lady would not let us. Instead we were instructed to return to the government office and ask for them to refund us the difference. That was another five block walk back to where we had started, and time was starting to run short. The best part of this overpayment was that the fee dropped from around $136 pesos to only $34 pesos. A significant difference for anyone.


Finding our way through the mazes of government offices.

Normally we used Sergio’s car in our travels because it was generally easier and faster. It was also the only transport that we had. Now that we had the motorbike too, it had become an option, although today it was a necessity. Sergio’s car had broken down late yesterday and there was no other form of transport. So this time when we left the government office we climbed aboard my bike and rode over to the Transport Office.

We were now ready to strike off the next item on our list. The “Baja.” This removes all records of old bikes that do not have a complete paper-trail from the computers so it can be added again from the beginning. As Sergio handed over our amended receipt proving our payment of the licence plate fees, I expected that we would receive our “Baja” and be on our way. Instead, the lady reached into her folder and pulled out for us yet another list of items to complete.

The first item was yet another possible debt that had somehow managed to cling to the bike rather than the person. This was the unpaid traffic infractions associated with the bike. Now it is my prayer, desire, hope and wish that this old bike has no such a thing as an unpaid infraction upon it, but to find out we have to wait. It takes three working days to complete.


Waiting to be attended at the Office of Infractions and Fines.

Doing anything in Argentina takes longer than most other places that I know. So when we had to apply for a list of possible outstanding infractions, it did not surprise me that it used up the rest of our available time. On entering the building, through a small doorway in a huge steel grilled wall we were presented with two different branches of the pathway. From where we stood at the junction there were even more choices further along, so the only sure way of working out our destination was asking a guard. He cheerfully pointed us into the branch on the right.

When our turn arrived, we asked for the application and presented the necessary papers which had taken much of the week to get. Once they were satisfied with our status as the new owners of the motorbike we received a bill and told to come back when it was paid. So we headed back down the branch and out through the steel grated wall. Next door was the place that we paid this bill, and after waiting in line and receiving our stamp of payment on the bill, we were able to return once again into the depths of the neighboring building.

On presenting our proof of payment after yet another wait, we were registered for the application. It was done. Now we had to wait three days to receive the results. Monday it will be ready, but this is only the first of five items to complete for our “Baja.” The other items involve bouncing around the city from one place to the next to pick up a form in one place, have it filled out in another, and get it verified in yet another. Now I sympathize with Sergio and understand how he can say that we do not know if we are near the end or not, we can only say that we now have less to do than before.


Buying the official forms needed during our paperwork efforts.

It is obvious that I am very new to the paperwork requirements in Argentina. Until now it has been an amazing learning experience. Never did I expect that there would be so much time, money, and doors to move through before I could buy a simple motorbike. This much paperwork is not always required I am told. It is just that the motorbike I wanted to buy is so old that it has never been entered into the records database properly.

In working through all of these paperwork dilemmas and processes with Sergio, I have learned about yet another face of Argentina. My experience has taken me deeper into the workings and life of this country where I live. It has been a fascinating experience, fraught with mishaps and unexpected turns at every side, and still it continues.

Before this mammoth effort, I could not understand why so many bikes, cars and also houses here in Corrientes are sold without any paperwork. Now, even in the middle of the process, I can see why. Even the official government forms have to be purchased so you can continue the process.

Paperwork, paperwork, and even more paperwork. But we have less to do now than we did before.

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Buying a Siambretta – Yet Another Visit

Today was an easy day. All I had to do was visit the Escribana and pick up some paperwork. Most of it seems to be signed now, although I am not holding my breath. The paperwork was all very important stuff. Things that I need to be legal on the roads here in Argentina. I now have two contracts of sale, one with the original owner on the paperwork, and the other with the seller, and an authorisation to drive Sergio’s bike. Now I am legal and if the police pull me over then I should be fine.

Of course there is always something yet to do, and with the bald front tire, no rear-vision mirrors, and a dodgy licence, there are still areas of concern to attend to. My plan is to get everything done as soon as possible so that I am truly legal here. It is proving to be a lot harder than I first expected. But after this visit, I am resting easier when I see a police blockade on the roads now.


The papers that I need to have on me at all times (Clockwise from left: Authorisation to drive, Certificate of sale from both parties, licence, passport, and Title Card of the motorbike).

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It’s Time I Told You – I’m Leaving!

That’s right. I am leaving YWAM Corrientes on the 18th of March. It will be close to two years (well, one year, eight months, and 18 days to be exact) when I leave. Gee, there are a lot of 8’s in there. Anyway, on this date I move onward to the next thing that God has for me here in Argentina.

During my school in Corrientes, after seeing a need in the area of communications, I made a one year commitment. Even though this commitment is completed, I have returned to Corrientes to teach those who will eventually replace me. We have five more weeks to achieve this.

So where do I go from here? First to Bolivia. While I was in Bolivia for the outreach part of my school last year, I made some verbal commitments to people that I would definitely return, therefore I am returning to fulfill these commitments to these people. My time in Bolivia will probably be for only a short while. Something around a month perhaps. It all depends on what happens at each place I return to.

Then after this I return to Argentina. The rest of the story is not written yet. Not even planned. My only goal is to continue on this journey with God until the end. It has been an adventure so far and does not look like ending soon.

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Modest Housing

As I was wandering around town today, a couple of old houses caught my attention. Not all homes are like this, and there are even a number of mansions around the city too (see the last photo). The thing that attracted me to these houses more than the others was that they were sandwiched between more common styled housing, so they stood out when I saw them, with their old or worn features.

modest house
Avenue Artigas

city home
Avenue Belgrano

two older houses
Avenue Misiones

a mansion
Avenue Yrigoyen

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Siambretta Parts – Needle in a Haystack

After a day’s break, I headed back into town to look for some very needed parts on my newly acquired bike. Three things stood out as needing repair soon:

  • The clutch, which was slipping and hard to use.
  • The rear shock absorber which was now just a bouncy spring.
  • The tyres which were completely bald.

Ideally, these sorts of things would be easy to find, but this is not the case for a Siambretta. After visiting my old friend and getting the udpates on where I should go to buy the parts I need, I headed off full of confidence. I had been told earlier than this that a tyre for my bike would cost only $40 pesos and my old friend told me what I could expect to pay for a new shock absorber. Based on these prices I could afford to replace them.

As I approached the shop, sitting quietly on the corner of a busy intersection, opposite the central post office, its narrow doors offered a glimpse into an old, dark, and rather small space. It did not look as grandeur as I have often encountered in spare parts places in Australia, but this was the place I had been told. So I pulled up my bike and strolled inside.

The pungent odor of grease stained wood filled the air of this old shop, an old fan on the wall pushed around the hot and sweaty smells of the group I had just joined as we all crushed into the tiny entrance space in a desperate yet vain attempt to escape the scorching heat of the sun. Being wise to the systems in Argentina, I had grabbed hold of a number ticket in the doorway and so I waited, ticket in hand, enjoying the new and yet familiar smells of this spare parts shop.

Behind the counters the place was packed full of parts. Stickers and fan belts hung from the ceiling while the counters themselves were stuffed full of every type of spare part known in this area. Huge wooden shelving sat behind the counter area and were filled with boxes labelled for what they contained, their bases covered in sprockets and other shiny parts. From what I could tell, there were spare parts here for virtually every motorbike on the roads in Corrientes if not Argentina. The best part was that there were lots of old parts here too. As I noticed this, my hopes rose high again.

When my number was called I started my inquiries. Tyres came nowhere near the $40 pesos I had been told. Instead they were starting from $67 pesos and heading upward from there. Shock absorbers simply do not exist any more, since the manufacturer of these had long since shut down. As the news of this hit me, my hopes took a head-down dive straight for the floor. I was so discouraged by the news of the first two items, that I never bothered asking about the clutch, but instead headed home.

On my way home, I looked around for other places where I could buy a tyre, perhaps with a price nearing the $40 pesos I had been told about. I stopped at any place that seemed likely to sell me that sort of tyre. Not a single person had one. The best I managed to find was some second hand tyres, already mostly used up, which hovered around the price I was looking for. So I returned without anything.

Aftrer heading off with such expectations that I would be able to find the parts I needed, I returned very deflated. Finding parts for my Siambretta is going to be a lot harder than I ever expected.

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Isaac and Natalia Marry (Civil) in Corrientes

Isaac was in my Discipleship school in 2004, and he stayed on and worked with us in the mission here until December last year. During this time he fell in love with a young girl and today they both got married. This is the first part of the wedding for Argentina – the civil wedding. Later comes the church wedding which will be in Salta on the 18th of March.

Isaac and Natalia
Isaac (20) and Natalia (18) just after arriving at the civil office.

Isaac with extended family
Isaac with his extended family.

Isaac and Natalia with her family
Isaac and Natalia with her family.

During the vows
Natalia watching Isaac as he says, "I do" during the vows.

Family and friends watch on
Family and friends watch on as the lady directs the short ceremony.

Signing on the book
Signing their lives away to each other on the book of records.

Celebrating the newly weds
Everyone celebrating the newly-weds after the ceremony finishes.

Isaac and sister crying
It is a very emotional time for everybody.

Handing rice to a young girl
Handing out the rice to everyone, kids included.

Rice thrown over Isaac and Natalia
Being covered in rice as they leave the building.

As they leave the government building everyone has gathered to throw rice over them. Some of the little children do not know when it is enough and scoop it off the ground to throw it again and again until it becomes like a never ceasing rain. Eventually the novelty wears off and they stop throwing it.

From this point on the wedding has finished, and people start to trickle off after saying their farewells. Later on that night the family and some close friends gathered together for a meal to celebrate the newly-weds, and then everybody returns to Salta, Isaac’s home town.

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Carnival Season in Corrientes Ends

On Sunday was the last night of Carnival in Corrientes. They say that Corrientes has one of the biggest carnivals outside of Brazil. Every year they celebrate the Carnival here in the city over a period of three or so weeks. People work with meager earnings all year to save up for the elaborate costumes that they wear, all in the hope of gaining the recognition that comes from winning the Carnival that year.

girl in carnival costume
Girls dressed up in their costumes for the Paraguayan Carnival (taken by friend in Paraguay).

Corrientes is not the only place that celebrates the Carnival either. The city of Encarnacion in Paraguay also holds a Carnival celebration, although this lasts only one weekend. There may be other cities that also have either a Carnival or a mini-carnival but I am not aware of them.

This has been my second year here in Corrientes and my curiosity led me to want to stop in on the last night of the Carnival to see what this event was all about. When the locals told me that it was basically a flesh parade and that it started at 11pm and continued until 4am or later in the morning, my interest waned completely. They say that Carnival originated from "Carne-Vale" which in Spanish says something like, "The importance (or value) of the flesh".

Here are some photos of the more sedate photos that came out in the local newspapers. A number of the published photos were too lewd to show, yet were printed on the back page of otherwise respected papers. This reflects the sort of attitude held in Argentina about these things, and was as close as I ever came to the whole event.

Lady on front page of paper
Ms. Sapucay wins the Carnival for the second time in a row.

Carnival page in paper
A moving platform designed to show off the girls and their costumes.

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Siambretta No Go – Flat Tire!

I woke up this morning, ready to head to town and begin another list of items on my paperwork trail. Time was fast running out by the time I reached my bike as I had just completed a number of essential tasks for the morning. On reaching the bike, I noticed that the centre stand was firmly planted on the ground which was unusual. Normally only one leg touches the ground and this time both of them were touching. Then I noticed my new unfolding drama. A flat front tyre.

Comparing my bald tyre with a new one
My bald front tyre compared to a new one.

It was hard to blame my poor front tire. After all, it was balder than Kojak and very worn out. Ironically I had planned on replacing that tyre today, but with it being flat it was going to be hard to head into town now. A bus seemed the only solution, so I whipped the wheel off the bike and wandered up the street to Sergio’s place with it under my arm.

Sergio’s Own Problems
When I arrived at Sergio’s place he was struggling with his own problems. Stuck under the hood of his car with a spanner in hand, he was busy trying to pull out his well hidden battery. His car’s charging system had broken down the other day, leaving him with a flat battery and non-working car, and today was the first day that he could take his battery down to the local mechanic to charge it up. This would not get him far, but he only needed to get to the other side of the city where his trusted mechanic was.

Sergio was in the last stages of removing his battery by this stage, so I chatted with him while he finished off. In chatting about my flat tyre experience, he asked me why I did not repair it through the local tyre man. I did not even realise that this guy existed, assuming that the big rubber tyre and the bold word, “Gomeria” (meaning “Tyre Shop”) at our regular bus stop was of a shop long since gone.

The big tyre sign
Our local bus stop that I have visted countless times before.

In finishing, Sergio lifted the battery out of the car and placed it into a big wheelbarrow next to him. We placed my wheel in with it and headed off down the road to the local mechanic. It was going to take an hour to charge Sergio’s battery, so he came with me to the Gomeria where we repaired the punctured tyre. With my wheel under my arm, we headed off past the big rubber tyre at the bus stop and down the road to discover the workshop that I never knew about.

The Gomeria (Tyre Shop)
We are not the only ones needing assistance, and wait in-line behind two bicycles. With the first bike repaired and sent on her way, the second bike wheels up to inflate his rear tyre. In the inflation process a huge bubble pops out of the side of the tyre, so they let a little bit of air out and the guy seems happy enough. He wheels his bike out then climbs on and rides away. Money is sometimes very tight in this part of town and buying a new tyre is a big investment that needs to be saved for.

It was our turn now. We enter in through the big garage doors pinned back against dirty concrete walls to the sparsely equipped workshop. A young, athletic man attends us, taking my wheel and looking it over. He then takes hold of a wrench and takes out all of the bolts and nuts holding the wheel together. Once removed, the rim split into two and it was easy to pull out the offending tube which was inflated and immersed into a bathtub to reveal the leak.

The workshop
The Gomeria is run by the whole family.

The tube was as old as the tyre, with patches upon patches scattered over its surface. This time the leak was in a new place, so our tyre mechanic cuts off a piece of special rubber, plugs in his patch iron (a clamp that gets very hot), and then grinds away on the tube at the hole. He sticks the cut piece of rubber on the tube with a bit of glue and then places it carefully in the patch iron and squeezes down on it firmly.

While the tube sat sizzling in the hot clamp, the man returns to my wheel and checks the old tire on the inside. If something was still poking through it may cause another puncture. Stating that the tyre was very bald in a voice that indicates we are likely to get another puncture if I continue to use it like that, he then goes over and retrieves the now cooked tube. After inflating it again and checking for any other leaks, he pokes it back into the tyre and bolts together the two halves of the rim.

It was about here that Sergio suggested that he head back to get his battery from the mechanic, and we meet back at his house. It takes another 5 minutes before my wheel is assembled again and ready to carry away. A sign on the wall declares puncture repairs cost $4 pesos, but I am charged $5. On a later return I notice that there is now another price on the wall, stating that repairs on my style of wheel cost $5. I guess it takes bit more work than the normal tyre.

The old tube
My old spare tube with all of its patches.

Getting Mobile Again
Happy with my now inflated tyre, I wander around the corner to the main building on our property where I left my bike and install my wheel. With that all done I am ready to go, and after fighting with the bike a little to get it to roar into life, I cruise down the road to Sergio’s house to see how things are working for him.

Sergio has just finished his car also, and is cleaning his hands when I turn up. He needs to take his car to the mechanic on the other side of town and is not sure if there is sufficient charge in his battery for him to make it. So he shows me on the map where we are heading and we organise that I will follow him there and we will go into town on the bike from there.

I’m not sure what Sergio was thinking at the time, but I was in the house still chatting with his wife Graciela, when he suddenly attempted to start his car. The engine roared into life, and with the urgency of a desperate man on a tight time limit he raced out of the yard, down the road and was gone. I looked blankly at Graciela and then launched into action. If I lost him, there was no telling if I would be able to find the place he was heading.

Running out of the yard gates, I stopped to close them, then realised the predicament I was in and so left them half closed, calling out behind me that they were still open. I jumped onto my bike and went to start it, but it was turned off. The key keeps falling out of the ignition so I pulled it out of my pocket where I keep it and turned it on. Now we were ready to go. Oops. No. I had locked the steering too.

Pulling the key out of my pocket once again I fumbled as I rushed to unlock my steering. Precious seconds were ticking by as the lock refused to move. It needed a special position, so after forcing myself to relax, I found that position and unlocked it, pocketing the key once again. Some desperate kicks on the kickstart and the bike mercifully roars into life. Remembering all of the previous problems with running out of fuel, I take an extra couple of seconds to make sure the fuel tap is turned to just the right position and then roar off down the road.

The Race Is On
My bike bounces around over the bumps of the rough dirt road as I head toward the main highway, guessing that this is where Sergio had gone. There was no sign of dust or any other clue so he must have been a fair way ahead of me. Looking ahead I catch a glimpse of him turning out onto the main highway and know that I am at least on the right path. It takes me almost a minute to reach that same point myself. I too turn onto the highway.

Twisting the throttle as far as it goes, the tired old bike pushes hard as I feed it each gear. Finally I reach my top speed, somewhere around 75 km/h, and duck down out of the breeze to try and get the bike to go a little faster. Up ahead in the distance I see Sergio’s car pulling away from me as he weaves his way past slower cars. There seems to be no way that I can catch up to him, but I keep pushing along at my limited speed, hoping that there will come a break of some sort.

My break comes when Sergio gets caught behind a slow old truck. With him stuck there, I slowly start to catch up with him again. By the time I reach him, the truck has just turned off his path and he is back into crazy mode again. This time I am able to keep close enough to him to see where he is going. The area of town that we are in I have never visited before, and soon we are bouncing down another dirt road even worse than the one we started out on.

Passing slower cars, bicycles, and motorbikes, we leave bewildered faces and a cloud of dust behind us as we race toward our destination. Not knowing where we were going, I simply stick tightly to Sergio’s path as we weave through the roads. Finally we reach his mechanic, but everything is closed up. His daughter is still home, so she opens the workshop door for us and lets Sergio’s car in.

Sergio's mechanic's workshop
Sergio’s mechanic’s workshop.

He made it. And I did too. Now we could continue on to town to finish some more of the paperwork for my bike… and get a tyre to replace my bald one on the front.