Its half past five and I am waiting for Fidel at Urquizas station. The man who sits beside me is looking irritated at the Tren Blanco approaching the station. He says something to me but I dont get it. Im too concentrated looking for Fidel in the crowd of men, carts, trolleys and other vehicles coming out of the train. Its a hell of a noise.
The man repeats, yelling in my ear, what he just said. "Argentina was the most European country of Latin America, was!" He looks disgusted at the train, which is still spitting out people. "It will never be how it used to be before," he says.
"Where do you come from," he asks. "From Holland," I say. "And, what do you think about the Argentinean princess?"
It is the right moment to end this conversation and find Fidel, who might have passed by.
The Tren Blanco leaves to the next station.