argentina, 1996

Sitting in the cafe, the local TV channel shows a baker talking. He's saying he's not sure he can afford to keep on making bread. The cafe's in Mendoza. Mendoza is a vale of plenitude. The air is dry-cleaned by the Andes. The parks are green. Mendozans patrol the street at a leisurely pace, eating afternoon ice creams.

People are keeping half an eye on the TV. As they drink coffee, eat bifes de lomo, gossip. We watch the people watching the news as we drink coffee, have some kind of Mendozan snack. My Argentinian is good enough to pick out snippets. Get the jist.

Things are not what they seem. Don't get fooled by that balmy dollar-peso equation. There's trouble in store.

The trouble takes its time coming. Five years or so. Then the levee bursts and the country implodes.