Traveling by train

"Remember to look after your backpack," said the girl that's helping me settle in in Argentina. It was 7a.m. and I was getting out of her car to jump on the train that takes you from the suburbs of Buenos Aires to downtown Buenos Aires.

I followed her advice and put my backpack on my chest and my wallet in my front pocket. As soon as I bought my ticket I went to get in line to get into the last wagon of the train. Everyone waiting there seemed a little dangerous, dirty, and odd.

The train got to the station and as soon as the wagon opened its doors it reeked of marijuana. I had to act as if I owned the place and got into the train trying to stay calm. To be honest, I was a little nervous because my friends had told me not to talk on the train since some Argentinians try to take advantage of foreigners. My Spanish accent is different than theirs and they would've known i'm not from around here as soon as I said a word.

As unbelievable as it might sound, the whole wagon was a hotbox of marijuana smoke. I tried to act like a local even though I had just been in Argentina for a day. Maybe this was a normal situation here in Buenos Aires, I thought.

For the next hour or so, all I saw was people passing marijuana joints and bowls between them. They didn't even seem to know each other, it looked more like a pre-job routine between all the commuters. My instinct usually tells me to get the scene on video, but I didn't really feel comfortable enough to get the phone out of my pocket. I felt I could get robbed.

The climax of the train ride was when the man next to me touched my shoulder and showed me a joint as a way to tell me he wanted to share. My reaction was to grab without speaking. As soon as he turned the other way around, I passed it to the person next to me without smoking. There were no options here, I could have either grabbed the joint just as everyone did or I could have said no and risked getting looked at as a weirdo.

Later on I had the chance to move to another wagon. The train was growing empty and I could see that the closer we got to the city, the safer it felt to be on the train. Just as in any other metropolitan area in the world, Buenos Aires also has dangerous suburbs. Don't get me wrong, the downtown area is beautiful and feels safe. The combination of me being in a new country for the first time and seeing illegal stuff happening out in the public is what got me agitated.