Half an hour before the Tren Blanco arrives we are already waiting on the platform with the cart and sacks full with paper and carton. Passengers who are waiting for the normal trains are standing between the carts; they look straight forwards, hiding their fear.
I am standing next to that big huge boy with a friendly Ronaldo face. He is 2 centimetres smaller than I am. The twins, Jorge and Ruben are in front of us, looking at us and laughing silently. These two giants, I see them thinking.
"The Tren Blanco is coming," screams somebody ten meters away from us. "No, its a yellow one," yells Ruben back. The train stops, opens its doors and the melodies of a harmonica are coming out of it.
Directly the cartoneros join, clapping the rhythm. It is the musician from Urquiza with his harmonica, playing a kind of unplugged Cumbia in the passenger trains. "Come, come with us," they yell at him. "No, I will wait for you in Urquiza," screams the musician through the closing doors.