Have you ever met two siblings who loved each other but could not help but drive each other crazy?

Two siblings who would go to war together but not to the grocery store? Whose family history suggests it would be so easy to be pals but they choose to boo each other instead?

Welcome to the relationship between Chileans and Argentineans. My people and the people next door. United by a common past and a common language and separated by the Andes Mountains and a childish dislike for each other that can be mildly described as beyond stupid.

So when I was told that I would have to cover the travels of five Argentineans as they spent a weekend in Grant County, I forgot all about how my favorite cartoonist, musician, singer and improv comedian are from Argentina, and muttered a Chileanly wary, Oh, that s cool…I guess.

It didn t help that two of the five people were girls. Girls my boss would not stop teasing me about.

Ooooh, Sebastian, that one s 26.

Ooooh, Sebastian, that one s 31.

This was becoming a nightmare of Aconcagua-like proportions. And the quintet from The Argentinean Nation as they call their country, had not even arrived yet.

But I m a professional, ya know? I had to remain objective. So I went to meet them, ready to fight them to the death over how come their Mount Aconcagua was taller than Chile s Ojos Del Salado.

I ve got one word for you, pals, I d say. Steroids. And it would be on.

There they were, all five of them, in all of their Argentinean-ness, standing outside of Hastings store, looking around downtown Moses Lake and probably missing Buenos Aires like crazy. I walked up to them, shook their hands and told them in Spanish that I was there to report their activity, criminal and otherwise, during their stay in Grant County.

Where are you from?, one of the girls asked. (Boss knows best, they were cute.)

Chile, I said.

Chile? She replied, then a pause.

I was expecting her to say I ve heard of that country. Isn t it near Tanzania? or and how do you live with yourself, but instead she said…

My best friend is Chilean! And that was all it took.

The fivesome and I spent that whole morning together, with me acting as their translator and with them charming the heck out of everyone they met. Pilar, Erika, Esteban, Ignacio, and Florest.n Sebasti.n Maliandi, also known as Penky, the group leader. Argentineans all, fascinating all. By the end of the day, even I missed Buenos Aires, and I ve never been there.

We danced together, we laughed together, we shared together, but most importantly, we learned together.

We learned about one another s cultures, we learned about Grant County, but most of all we learned about ourselves. I learned that, as Esteban said to me minutes after leaving for Wenatchee, the image people have of other countries are very different until people get to know each other.

Wars take place because people don t know each other, he told me.

That one hit home. Chileans and Argentineans have come close to going to war a few times, and I wondered if it was because we never took the time to leave our prejudices behind.

When they left for Wenatchee, we shared a hug like good siblings do and promised to see each other again someday. It may happen, it may not. Doesn t matter. They are my friends and they will always be my friends, and the image I had of their nation has been forever changed thanks to them.

And yes, the Aconcagua is taller.

Sebastian Moraga is city reporter for the Columbia Basin Herald.