It never fails to amaze me how difficult it is to procure a simple train ticket in Argentina. Six times out of ten the ticket machine is out of order, at which point I cross the tracks to visit the other machine (neither ticket booths are manned after early afternoon in my little town), where nine times out of ten "exacto cambio" is lit up. Okaaay, but here's the rub: The fare is no longer a handy 50 centavo, as the rate's just been raised to 65, requiring me to search deep pockets for a friggin 10 centavo piece--not that plentiful to go around--and the unfuckingbelievably elusive 5 centavo piece! Arrgh. So what this ultimately means is that in sheer disgust and utter frustration, I end up jumping the train without a ticket. But hey, that's OK, because five times out of ten there's no one to collect it at my destination anyway.