Reflections on Argentina

It has been more than two weeks since we came back from Argentina. I spent 10 days in New York, packing up my life and getting ready to return to…

Since coming back to LA on Tuesday, April 29th I have been overcome by an uneasy calm. Neither Jaspar nor I know what’s next. He’s got graduation and trip to Israel to at least delay the inevitable nothingness. But I am smack dab in the middle of it now. I keep hoping that another idea will hit me. I’ll be walking down the street and see a women crossing the road hands filled with 8 different shopping bags, hurrying to make it to the other side before the light turns green and I’ll say, “Ahaa! That’s it...A bag carrying machine!”

What we found in Argentina was not what we were expecting. It’s not that we were surprised. You venture into the unknown knowing that it will not be as you have imagined it, so it’s pretty difficult to be surprised. But I was disappointed. Even after a month of research, a 40-page business plan, and 12 sheets of financial projections we found that we were wrong. There are a number of reasons for this and I won’t go into boring specifics, only to say our greatest challenges were pre-existing competition, Argentine’s resistance to change, and most importantly the precarious nature of the country’s economy. Ours was a retail concept which meant we would be earning pesos, and the peso sunk to it’s lowest level against the dollar in five years last week. Meanwhile the dollar itself is at its lowest level in recent memory against nearly every other major currency. With unofficial in inflation in Argentina at about 25% the peso is likely to continue to depreciate until the government gets its economic house in order. Which doesn’t appear likely anytime soon. Anyhow, this is all a long way of saying a retail business is about the worst business you could start in Argentina at the moment.

What is surprising is that we were completely aware of all these difficulties before we went to Argentina. Perhaps our fearless adolescent natures endowed us with attitudes of invulnerability, so we thought ourselves capable of easily surmounting all obstacles. In any case, after many conversations with Argentine locals and American’s who do business in the country we realized we had vastly underestimated the severity of these challenges. “Go into software!” We were told. Nearly everyone advised us to find a way to make dollars, euros, or pounds, while paying our workers in pesos. “That’s where the real money is!” Well there is only one slight problem with that – I don’t know the first thing about software and Jaspar knows even less.

So there you have it. We are now two young idealess entrepreneurs. On a mission to avoid a life of neck ties, twice-monthly paychecks, and performance reviews on the long road to a place called middle management, where people wait out the last two decades of their working lives dreaming of the day they arrive at retirement. Oh how glorious it will be when my 401K kicks in and I can sit on a beach or a golf course and…

I talked to my uncle over the weekend, and he had some strong words of advice. He said that my problem was I didn’t have a goal. In his opinion unless I picked a monetary figure that I was aiming for, my goal would just get larger and larger with every bit of success. Pick a number, get there and then enjoy it. But I am not after a number and I certainly am not after a life on a golf course or at a beach. I want to work! I want to work until the day I die. Of course I want to be rich too, but for reasons of security and ego not so I can spoil myself.

Which of course brings us back to the real problem. We don’t have a viable business idea. Any suggestions? Really, please post a comment or email me with any business ideas you have. The sooner I can get to work, the better it will be for everyone involved…

Domingo, 20 de Abril

This was the shortest day on our trip. After getting up at 3 p.m. we grabbed lunch in Palermo Soho and had a couple helados at Freddo for good measure. The Soho neighborhood was packed on the weekend, a stark contrast to the weekdays in which the area was pretty much vacant.

We went back to the apartment, packed, said goodbye to Nick, and got the deposit back from the lady who had rented us the place. While the apartment was a little old and the beds were uncomfortable, I was sad to leave it. It had quickly become home. We took a taxi to the airport, a fascinating drive through the poorer neighborhoods of greater Buenos Aires. Along the highway families had Sunday afternoon barbeques as their children rode dirt bikes and four-by-fours through the dusty hills and played a games of futbol on the grass. I really had fallen in love with this place. I had to come back.

When leaving from the Buenos Aires airport the most irritating part, worse than the long lines and lack of self-service kiosks we have become so accustomed to in the States, is the $18 (US dollar) tax every single person has to pay. But by the time we got to Duty Free I forgot about it. Here we found some incredible deals on wine, liquor and cigars, in addition to some of the most beautiful female sales people in all of Buenos Aires. I was tempted to stock up on sin but contained myself, buying just a single bottle of wine for my New York roommate’s family.

This time the flight was easy. I slept all the way through to JFK where I left Jas as he checked in for his flight back to LA. It had been one of the most educational, humbling, frustrating, and inspiring weeks of my life. For now I could only hope that we would do something with it. Air Train, E Train, down 8th, 235 and I was…

Sábado, 19 de Abril

It was going to be a long day. We were up at 9 to meet Monica at a location she had found for us in Recoleta. The spot was perfect – a corner site, in a residential and retail neighborhood with constant foot traffic. It was about the right size and was being offered at a good price. Before I got too excited I remembered that not only did we not have an investor, but that I had begun to doubt our concept myself.

Next we met with Henri, and detailed the week’s events for him. As a successful businessman I could see that he understood all of the challenges that we were facing. We told him that we were no longer sure that we had chosen the right business or even the right industry, but that the week had shown that there were definite business opportunities for us in Argentina. He offered some powerful words of advice and encouragement, and we said our farewells.
After a work out at the Alvear we headed to the Alamo, Argentina’s only American sports bar, to watch the NBA playoffs and have a beer. Basketball is arguably Argentine’s second favorite sport, behind futbol. But they tend to only broadcast NBA games featuring Argentine players, which essentially means only San Antonio Spur games with their star Argentine duo: Fabricio Oberto and Manu Ginobili. We came in for the second half of the Cavs, Wizards game. No Spurs, meant Sling Box. Sling Box is a device that can beam media anywhere in the world. Because this game wasn’t on Argentine TV, the bar was getting the feed via Sling Box from the Miami market. The picture was blurry and the image stuttered from frame to frame, missing some of the biggest plays of the game. As you can imagine this is just about the most frustrating way to watch a basketball game. When work out and the Quilmes had set in, we headed back to the apartment for a nap.

I never miss a chance to celebrate a Jewish holiday, and lucky for me it was Passover. For the Seder we went to Joe’s house. Joe is an old friend of Jack’s, who is a Sephardic Jew, always the most fun to celebrate with. He and his family were some of the nicest people we met our whole time in Argentina. They welcomed us into their house and treated us to a wonderful Middle Eastern meal, complete with delicious red and desert wine. My favorite part was the questioning, a passover tradition in which the man of the house goes around the party and asks every guest two questions. When is was my turn, Joe asked "Where do you come from?", "Egipto," I dutifully recited. "Where are you going?" "Israel!" I said in my best Porteno/Sephardic accent.

When we left around 1 a.m. we headed back to the apartment to meet Nick for a three-man pre-party. Our apartment had a giant sound system from the 1980’s that we somehow hooked up to Nick’s iPod to blast the latest electronica, trans and techno music. Around 2:30 we left to Pacha. Saturday’s at Pacha are packed with 1,500 plus people who consume much more water than alcohol. It was basically like being at a rave. We danced and partied, and I continued to unsuccessfully approach Argentine girls. Around 6 I left Jaspar and Nick and headed back to the apartment for some sleep. They hung around to watch the sunrise and when they left at 8 a.m. there were still over 1,000 people at the club.

Viernes, 18 de Abril

El humo (the smoke) came and went in waves since arriving on Wednesday night. But when we woke Friday morning the smoke was worse than ever, covering the city like a French duvet. Friday was a late state start. We had lunch and grabbed some of Argentina’s finest helado (ice cream) at Persicco in Las Canitas. Then we walked into the residential neighborhood of Belgrano, where the consultants our first potential investor referred us to had an office.

We met with the consultants for an hour, picking their brains about our idea. Did they think it would be popular? How many customers could we expect a day? What were there feelings on the macro-economic situation in Argentina and Latin America? Then they explained what they could offer in the way of developing a market study to test the actual viability of our idea in Argentina. All it would cost us was $12,000…U.S. dollars that is. We were prepared to pay a few thousand dollars to prove our concept to investors, but twelve grand was unreasonable and unaffordable for Jaspar and me.

We had done everything right: set up the lawyers, suppliers, and had a few good prospective locations. But the investment was proving the real challenge. I was no longer sure we had chosen the right industry. There were definite opportunities in Argentina. But we were trying to enter a highly competitive industry with a new product. Doing this generally takes a large balance sheet to finance a marketing campaign. During this week it became clear we did not have access to these kinds of resources. We had also chosen an industry in which we would be selling to Argentine’s, and thus earning pesos in a historically unstable economy. I began to ask if there wasn’t a better business for us to start in Argentina…

Friday was Tyler’s last night. Saturday morning he was taking off for a two-month journey through out South America. To celebrate Nick, Jaspar, Tyler and I went to La Cabrera a classic parilla in Palermo. Here we ate more lomo and bife de chorizo, and I tried morcilla, Argentine blood sausage. That night Jaspar and I called it early once again, as we had a 10 a.m. meeting the following day.

Jueves, 17 de Abril

Thursday was our only non-working day that week. After lunch Jaspar and I parted ways. He went to meet with a club owner friend of his who wanted to show him Buenos Aires hottest new night spot – New York City Club, and I went for a long walk.

I made my way past Plaza Serrano and through Palermo. Walking down the crisscrossing, diagonal streets. I ended up in the square in front of the Basilica del Espiritu Santo, and people watched for half an hour before continuing my walk. I passed Av. Santa Fe and wandered past a park. Eventually I got to Av. Libertador, figuring out exactly where I was for the first time. On Libertador I walked past the Museo Nacional de Arte Decorativo, a gorgeous old palace, that intrigued me so much I wandered in. I am not sure whether I was supposed to pay or not, but security was so lax I just kept walking. There were three levels of tapestry, sculpture and wood-work from the 15th century to modern day. After I was done taking in the art I went outside and sat in the museums beautiful cobblestone courtyard. When I finally got to the Alvear for my work out, I had fallen in love with Buenos Aires.

That night Jaspar and I went to Sucre for a hetero-date. Sucre is an overpriced, design laden, restaurant, reminiscent of New York in both concept and price. Afterwards we met up with Tyler and headed to Bar Limbo in Plaza Guemes, and then on to Lost for Buenos Aires hottest hip-hop night. Success in approaching only American foreign exchange students and Argentine minors (with braces) ended our night.

Miércoles, 16 de Abril

Wednesday we had lunch at a nice spot in Palermo Soho and then headed to a meeting with our second potential investor. This investor had not reviewed any of our material prior to our meeting. All he knew was what Jack told him – Jaspar was in Buenos Aires to start a business.

With in an hour we pitched the concept, start up costs and financial projections. The investor disputed our costs a little, noting that we would likely need more reserve capital. This he was right about. Then he said he liked the concept and thought it would work in Buenos Aires. But whether he would invest was an entirely different question. In this meeting we encountered one of the greatest challenges to raising capital in Argentina. While, there a plenty of wealthy people in the country, very few have the kind of official money or “white money” to single handedly back a start up.

Next we grabbed lunch and went to the most important meeting of our trip. Two American’s in there mid-twenties had come to Argentina a few years prior to start a business of there own. They had succeeded in a similar industry, and were the perfect people for us to turn to for advice. For two and a half hours they detailed every obstacle they had faced: from getting someone with a DNI to cosign on every contract signed by the business, to dealing with degenerate employees who were protected by Argentina’s socialist labor laws. Perhaps most importantly they pointed out the challenges that were inherent with the industry we had chosen and the fact that we would be earning the historically unstable Argentine peso.
They told us to be prepared to make no money for at least a year, and very little money for sometime after that. If we were lucky enough to be in business three years down the road we could expect a modest return, maybe. But the kind of money they were describing was nothing when compared to what we could be earning in entry-level positions in the U.S. It seemed the way most Argentine’s got rich was by not having to spend much money because of the countries low cost of living.

We left the meeting stunned. Neither one of us spoke for a while, and when we did it was mostly to reassure each other we hadn’t gone mute. After a silent work out at the Alvear we emerged form the hotel to find the city covered in a blanket of smoke. 70,000 hectares were in flames north of the city. Rumor had it that disgruntled farmers had lit the land ablaze in protest of the government’s recent increase in agricultural export tariffs. Classically Argentine.

That night we met Penny – Jaspar’s family friend – for dinner in San Telmo. La Brigada, is a classic old parilla (pronounced par-ee-ja by Portenos). Here we ate great lomo and bife de choizo and drank an awesome Argentine cabernet. After dinner we went to the mansion that Penny was staying in. San Telmo was a somewhat dodgy neighborhood so my expectations were low. Again, I was blown away. The mansion had all the glory of the Alvear, with charm reminiscent of some of the nicest New York brown stones I have seen. There was a garden in the back, complete with a pool, and a two level roof deck with views of the entire city. If this property were in Recoleta or Palermo, Ralph Lauren or Nike would have paid millions (of U.S. dollars) for it to house their Argentine flagship locations. But San Telmo, home of tango, is a some what lower class neighborhood of recent. The story goes that in the first half of the century San Telmo was one of the richest areas in Buenos Aires. But when a plague struck the area the people moved out to Recoleta and Belgrano, never coming back to glorious old mansions like this.

That night we went out with Tyler and a few of his friends to a cool restobar called Banglore, and an open-air bar in Palza Serano. El humo (the smoke) was so terrible by the time we left around 3 a.m. that my eyes and throat stung.

Martes, 15 de Abril

Tuesday morning was tough. I was tired and hung over from the mix Quilmes (the national beer of Argentina), champagne and red wine the night before. At 10 we were picked up in front of the Alvear by Monica and the female taxi driver from the day before – apparently she and Monica had such a good time the day before that she agreed to drive us around again today. Monica had set up appointments for us to see a few different locations. The area of the locations was nice but they were all too big for what we needed. Some featured upstairs bedrooms and balconies, great for a house but not for our business.

Monica and the female cabbie dropped us at a middle class Argentine apartment, otherwise known as home for the next five days. The end of Jack and Babette’s stay meant the end of the Alvear and so Jaspar and I had rented a weekly apartment on one of the many Buenos Aires short stay rental websites. $375 (US dollars) bought us three bedrooms, one and a half baths, a full kitchen, cable TV and internet, not bad by American standards. But we had to pay $750 ($375 plus a $375 deposit), which meant a trip to the bank.

Our trip to the Banco Galicia was the low point. Banks in Argentina are open from 9 a.m. to 3 p.m., which means a half hour line all day long. Inside it was sweltering hot, at least 85 degrees Fahrenheit, without the faintest hope of air conditioning. We tried to use the ATM but found that it did not dispense dollars – the preferred form of currency for the housing deposit. I waited in line while Jaspar called to find out if we could pay for the apartment in pesos. Ten or fifteen minutes passed as I sweated out Quilmes and inched through the line. Thankfully Jaspar returned to say we could pay in pesos, which meant we could use the ATM. At the ATM I tired to take our $1,000 (pesos), and the machine informed me this was not possible. Next I tired for $700, again not possible. $600, $500, $400. Finally trying for $300 I received three purple $100 pesos bills. Then I tired for another $300 which machine happily dispensed. Two more goes and I had my $1,000 pesos plus four 95-cent transaction charges from Banco Galicia, and of course four $5 charges from Bank of America.

After we dropped our bags at the apartment and paid the woman who owned the place, we got in a taxi and headed 30 minutes east of the city center. Here we met Eduardo and Hugo two potential suppliers for our business. We spoke with them at length about the business and wholesale prices for supply. They were both extremely nice and in classic Argentine fashion the meeting lasted two hours. Next we went down the street to meet with a guy Eduardo called la Doctora – an old Porteno, wearing black-rimmed glasses and a white lab coat, who spent his whole day developing chemical compounds. Eduardo explained our idea to him and he said he could develop our product. At the end of the meeting Eduardo was kind enough to drive us all the way back to the city center, where we met Babette for a late lunch at the Hyatt before she left for LA.

That night we were both beat. We went for dinner at Green Bamboo – a high fashion, Thai restaurant in Palermo Hollywood. Awesome food and overpriced super sweet cocktails ended the night early.

Lunes, 14 de Abril

Monday it was back to work. Monica, Santiago’s assistant, took Jaspar and I around in a taxi to see different locations. Somehow we ended up hailing the only female taxi driver in all of Buenos Aires and she and Monica went on to gossip and chat for most of the ride. We went through Las Canitas, Imprenta, Belgrano and Palermo. We stopped at a number of different real estate offices. Given the number of “For Rent” signs we had seen that weekend, I was surprised to find very little available at the offices themselves. Those that were open (many closed from noon to 3 p.m.) generally had an unhappy, older man sitting behind a desk who would say, without fail, “no tenemos,” or we don’t have. We did see a number of promising locations with “For Rent” signs out front and Monica promised to inquire about them when she got back to the office. I got the feeling that much of this business was done between friends. If the real estate agents did not know you they weren’t interested in talking. Argentine’s seemed very prideful, and unusually uninterested in making a sale for monies sake.

Monday afternoon we met with one of our potential investors. We talked for two and a half hours about the business and what we had accomplished since being in Argentina. He quizzed us on the concept, the competition and the figures. We showed him our 40-page business plan, investor presentation and full financial projections. When it came time to ask for the money, however, he hesitated. “I’m interested only in investing in a business…not an idea,” he said. The investor explained in order for this to go from idea to business form we needed to test the concept in the Argentine market. He wanted to be sure of its potential popularity before committing. He referred us to a group of consultants that he had used to conduct marketing studies for his business and said once we completed those studies he would consider the investment. Somewhat more disappointingly, he was not willing to pay for any part of the study.

A market study – what an obvious step? One that we had completely overlooked. This was the kind of amateurish business mistake that we could not afford to make. However, the meeting with this investor also left me with the feeling that he would not invest in this business, regardless of the market study results. There was something he was more fundamentally uncomfortable with. This was really disappointing as he was the only investor we had yet to approach.

After a workout, Jaspar and I went to meet up with Tyler - a friend of ours from high school who had been living in Buenos Aires for the last year and a half. We met him at La Bomba De Tiempo, a live drum show featuring an orchestra of percussion, dancing conductor, and hundreds of people, all bobbing to the beat in a giant outdoor industrial space called Ciudad Cultural Konex.

Fortunately the show was over by 10 as that night was Jack and Babette’s last. At 10:30 Jaspar and I met them for an incredible dinner at Sottovoce, one of Buenos Aires’s finest Italian restaurants. Penny, a close friend of Jaspar’s entire family who had been in Argentina for the past month, joined us for dinner. She told us stories about her recent travels to the north of the country. She was staying in a mansion a friend of hers owned in San Telmo and insisted that Jaspar and I go see it that week.

Jaspar and I made sure to grab time with Jack to discuss our meeting with the investor. I told him I was disappointed and that my feeling was that this investor was never going to make an investment in this idea. Always resourceful, Jack already had another investor in mind and told us to go seem him the next day.

Domingo, 13 de Abril

Just when I thought the Alvear breakfast offered every gastronomic delight possible, came the Alvear Sunday brunch. Brunch, took the “basic” Alvear breakfast buffet and added to it, oysters, caviar, and endless glasses of Malbec and Champagne, plus much more.

Two hours off gluttony and I was ready for a walk. Jack took Babette and I for a walk along Av. Libertador, passed the Museo de Bellas Artes, the "Floralis Generica", a giant metallic sculpture of a flower that opens and closes with the sun, and the Buenos Aires zoo. Our destination was Buenos Aires’s annual design fair, Puro Diseno,. One of Jack and Babette’s friends had jewelry on display at this giant exhibit of all things design related. There was clothing, handbags, and architecture. But the thing I was most interested in was the muebles, or furniture. I wandered through endless stands of modern furniture design, gathering business cards, and envisioning different designs for our store. One thing I had already become aware of was that Portenos were design fanatics. Every restaurant and boutique in Palermo featured different design twists. Of the nicest hotels in the city only the Alvear featured classic design. Down the street from the Alvear was the Hyatt. While housed in an old Porteno Palace, the interior of the Hyatt was cutting edge modern design – metal, glass, and black couches with lots of form but no function. Buenos Aires most recent five star addition is the Faena Hotel and Universe, a nouveau riche, boutique hotel by vogue, French designer Phillip Stark.

Finding a good dinner on a Sunday in Recoleta is difficult. We ended up wandering into a modest Argentine establishment, that was either a tourist trap, or a cheap local joint. It had a food menu the size of a double issue of Vanity Fair, and only a few other customers. There were seven of us and we agreed to order provoleta to start. “Just one,” Jack told the waiter, who tried to communicate that one would not be enough for everyone. “OK, a few then,” Jack said. “Yeah. Para la mesa,” I said, to indicate to the waiter that we wanted the dish as an appetizer for the table. Apparently, that didn’t translate, as five minutes later everyone at the table was treated to their own pizza size plate of cooked provolone and spices.

After dinner a couple of Jack and Babette’s friends who were tango fanatics, took us to a milonga, or tango bar. The milonga we went to was over a hundred years old. A classic two-story building, decorated with marble. On the second floor a live band played solemn tango tunes. Although the club was sparsely populated on a Sunday night, the setting and atmosphere made for a beautiful experience. The couple we were with explained the history of tango: a dance that was spawned by the largely male immigrant population in Argentina, originally danced by males with female prostitutes, the sadness of the songs reflective of their longing for their loved ones back home. Due to the sexually charged history of the dance the military government in Argentina had outlawed the dance during the 1960’s and 70’s. But through all that the milonga that we were currently in survived.

Sábado, 12 de Abril

We had to be up by 11. Not for business, but to catch the incredible breakfast at the Alvear. The breakfast featured pretty much everything you could ever imagine, but my two favorites were simple: Patagonian berries, a tart combo tiny blue berries and a sweet red berry puree, and Cortado dobles, otherwise known as double espressos with warm milk, but better than any coffee found stateside.

After breakfast we walked over to Palermo Soho. This is where Jaspar envisioned our first location. We wandered through the crafts fair in Plaza Serrano, and up and down the restaurant and clothing boutique lined streets. There were a surprising number of signs denoting a building “Alquila” or for rent. This was both encouraging because of the vast number of possible locations and concerning. Why had so many businesses been unable to survive in this neighborhood?

That night was the bar mitzvah – an incredible party and production. We were greeted by some of the most beautiful hostesses I’ve ever encountered, and were treated to an incredible dinner and music by four different bands. The headline act for the evening was an Israeli band that played electronic versions of old Jewish songs. Every band member wore tight leather and dark black sunglasses – classic.

A few glasses of wine and a couple cups of Black Label latter Jaspar and I approached the hostesses. As usual we were met with the classic female Argentine aloofness. But we persisted and the girls got nicer as the night went on. In Argentina a first, second and third “no” translates to “try again”. It is only on the fourth attempt when you truly find out if a girl wants to talk to you or not. Somewhere between our second and third attempt Jaspar’s parents came over to talk with us and brough with them one of Henri’s nieces. This particular niece was Mexican, stunning, and only 16. We flirted playfully and she began to show me how to tango. Then she took my hand and led me away towards the dance floor. As we got to the center of the floor I became aware of a spotlight shinning in our faces. Looking up I realized we had wandered into the middle of the candle lighting ceremony. To make matters worse the niece was not aware of this at all, and began to dance, rubbing against me provocatively. It was only when the niece’s name was called as one of the people Henri’s son wanted to thank that she realized, and ran towards her cousin to embrace him. I rushed out of the spotlight, towards some of the other cousins all of whom were laughing playfully at me. “Ojo,” said an older female cousin pointing at her eye an then at me. At any American bar mitzvah I may have just ruined my relationship with the entire family, but here my gaffe was endearing.

When we left at 2 a.m. the party was still going, the parents wobbled some what inebriated on the dance floor and in the adjacent room the pre-pubescent kids sat at blackjack and roulette tables, gambling faux chips for prizes.

Again the night was not over. Jas and I met Nick at Rumi, another Argentine nightclub. We partied to 6 a.m. and before we left asked some girls to come back with us, shamelessly dropping the Alvear name. “No my parents would kill me…but why are you leaving so early?” Early! When I inquired what time they had to be home, they answered not a minute later than 7:30 a.m.

Viernes, 11 de Abril

A rough landing, after a rough flight, we flew from LA to Dallas and then took the red eye from Dallas to Buenos Aires. I was lucky enough to get two seats to myself, but my attempt to use the three-foot space to sleep in the fetal position failed. There was no time for rest though, Jaspar and I had meetings with a potential investor, our lawyers and a real estate agent.
For the first five days of the trip we would stay with Jaspar’s parents at the Alvear Palace hotel. The Alvear is a classic old world, luxury hotel.: marble, white gloves, and crystal chandeliers. It feels the way I imagine the New York Plaza Hotel felt in the 1920’s.

One of the main reasons we choose Argentina is because Jaspar’s dad, Jack, has been doing business in the country for two decades. His familiarity with the country and contacts would be vital assets. After dropping our bags at the Alvear we met one Jack's oldest business partners, Henri. Jaspar had worked for Henri while studying in Argentina. Henri had served as Jaspar’s mentor and told Jaspar we would help him with any business idea he had . The meeting was short and to the point. It was Henri’s sons bar mitzvah that weekend so he had little time to talk. He referred us to Santiago, his real estate agent who would help us look for a location for our business.

Santiago worked a few blocks away from Henri, in Recoleta (the Beverly Hills of Buenos Aires). This meeting gave me insight into what to expect from all of our meetings with Portenos. For two hours, Jaspar and I sat in the sweltering heat of Santiago’s second floor office. We conversed in our half broken Spanish and inhaled the smoke of his Marlboro Red’s.
Next we walked down Av. Libertador to meet with our lawyers Liliana and Ezequiel. Liliana is the mother of Carolina, a close friend of mine from NYU. I knew we needed legal counsel and was lucky enough to find that Carolina’s parents had moved back to Argentina to open their own law firm. But in reality I had no idea what to expect. To put it short: I was blown away. This was a top notch, international law firm, and both Liliana and Ezequiel had read our business plan and presentation and conducted research into all of the legal challenges we needed to be aware of.

When we got back to the hotel it was time to go to Henri’s house for a reception for all of the foreign guests of his son’s bar mitzvah. Here we ate delicious churipan and lomo and drank copious amounts of red wine. We also met Henri’s family who had flown in from Mexico, Brasil and other parts of the world.

After leaving the dinner at 1 a.m. the night had just begun. Jaspar and I teamed up with two of Henri’s nephews from Brazil and Mexico to go to Pacha. There we met Nick, an old friend of Jaspar’s from Argentina and a bunch of Colombian girls he knew. A bottle of vodka latter Jaspar and I were on the dance floor doing what all Argentine guys do best, unsuccessfully hitting on Argentine girls. Next was Crobar, which was a bit empty, but equally as fun. The night ended with a long cab ride through the park. Those who have been out in Buenos Aires at 4 in the morning are familiar with the beautiful prostitutes that roam the streets, prostitutes who happen to be transsexuals. As they approached the taxi, there muscles and deep voices made it all too apparent. After the tour it was back to the hotel for some much needed rest.

¿Quién somos?

My name is Bryce Maddock. I am in the proces of starting a new business with Jaspar Weir, my long time partner in all things entrepreneurial. I met Jaspar in high school, a time when I was much much cooler than he was. But as Jaspar would put it I peaked at age 16. Anyhow, as my social status fell, Jaspar's seemed only to increase and by the end of high school we were about on equal footing. A shared desire to travel through Europe after graduation brought us together for a 6 week journey through, England, France, Italy, Spain and of course, Holland. On that trip we became very close friends.

At the end of the summer I went off to New York to go to NYU and Jaspar headed to downtown LA to go to 28th street in between Hoover and Figueroa, but we remained good friends. Over winter break of our freshmen year in college I proposed a business to Jaspar. Why not open up night clubs to high school kids? We had both had our fair share of nightlife experience in our first semesters, but neither of us really had the opportunity to go to a club in high school. Why not? We began work on what became Club Access - a series of Monday night parties held during the summer, open exclusively to the under 21 crowd. For three summers in a row we ran LA's hottest all age event, in addition to throwing special events (New Year's, etc.) for the 21+ crowd.

I graduated from NYU with a degree in international relations in three years. With most of my friends still in school I decided I wanted to stay in New York. So I got a job at Rodman & Renshaw, a boutique investment bank. The job was challenging, and exciting (for a while.) But anyone familiar with finance knows that there are only so many pitchbooks, cold calls, and 14 hour days in a windowless room, one can stand before looking into other possibilities.

In truth I never really wanted to be an investment banker. I always wanted to be an entrepreneur. So this past winter, while I was home for my first week vacation in a year, and Jaspar was on winter break we began to toss around ideas. This time Jaspar had the idea that grabbed both of our attention. It involved a life in a country where neither of us fluently spoke the language, a country to which I had never been, and a great risk with the potential of an even greater reward...

Thus began our Argentine adventure.

B