tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77672142024-03-07T09:52:57.932+00:00A Sidmouthian AbroadYou can take the boy out of Devon...Sidmouthianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01614140676551279937noreply@blogger.comBlogger76125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7767214.post-82378925220996094592011-02-02T21:27:00.004+00:002011-02-02T21:44:06.600+00:00Christmas comes to RosarioWell, that's a lie, but with two posts in just one day, it must really feel like all your Christmases have come at once (although, hopefully <i>not </i>in the case of members of the Wood family [or other Christmas-haters out there] reading this... because "all [y]our Christmases coming at once" would probably be like some kind of massive nightmare for you/them/us). Anyway, after a couple of hours by the pool, a nice refreshing cold(ish) shower (even the cold tap isn't <i>that </i>cold) and a daydream about a nice cup of tea (such a thing unfortunately does not exist here in Argentina), it's time to get back to business and try to slacken this blog's pace of decline. So, WFA (that's "without further ado", BTW - and if it's not already an accepted acronym, after appearing on this blog, it soon will be - I've had 17 page views since I updated this morning: that's almost as many as the BBC gets*, I'm sure), let's get this cliché-mobile on the road:<br />
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<b>Saturday 22nd January 2011</b><br />
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After an exhausing day of being sociable and whatnot, Saturday mainly involved relaxing by the pool. It was very hot (quelle surprise!). Luckily the pool and garden of the hostel are lovely, and so was the company, so it was a most pleasant way to idle away the day. We did manage a little excursion to the supermarket (a big Carrefour about 3 blocks away) to buy food for dinner, but other than that it was evening before anything approaching "activity" commenced. So, any French people reading this should say a big thank you for helping to support one of your giant multinationals. "You're welcome - just make sure you pop into Tesco the next time you're in Thailand or the Czech Republic, okay?"<br />
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As the evening air started to cool (how many times have I used the word balmy in the last couple of months? Well, I'm sorry for the repetition, but once again it was, ok?), Oscar and I ventured out. We walked the other way along Av. Oroño (or is a a Boulevard? Hmm Bv. or Av.? - it doesn't really matter, why don't you choose!) towards Parque de la Independencia. I said before how lovely Bv/Av Oroño was, well it was still lovely and also a hive of activity on this glorious Saturday evening. I've never seen so many walkers/joggers/idlers before, and that's including watching the London Marathon on TV (okay, okay... another teensy exaggeration there, but it was really busy with people). The park was also lovely with it's verdant lushness and it's backdrop of deep blue sky replete with setting sun. And treat of treats: a son and lumiere (sorry, no grave accent there to do full justice to the French language, of which I've been speaking a lot lately) show to accompany the dancing fountain in the middle of the lake. Yes, it was tacky, yes it was a tad underwhelming, yes it did have a whiff of Sidmouth Carnival about it, but still (!) with Queen pumping out across the water (the band, not HRH) and bats swooping overhead and a parade of girls dressed as if to go to a wedding, posing for photos by fake-Roman columns, what's not to love? It was a winner! :-)<br />
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Hard to match that, obviously, but the steak dinner almost did! After worrying about the quality of the slightly cheaper cut of meat, and the fact that the pan-fried potatoes and peppers kept sticking to the bottom of the bloody saucepan, it was triumph. Even Oscar, with his complex Chinese, palate enjoyed it! And the wine was good too (although after all this time and all those bottles, I can't really remember what wine it was - it was red, it was Argentinian, and frankly, they are all beginning to taste a little bit, well, the same**). You will be shocked to hear that no Fernet was consumed on this particular evening. After the exertions of the last couple of days it was early to bed (around 1:30am), although not before we had had a laugh with the girls, making up increasingly silly Spanish names for the non-Argentinians of the group. Oscar Axel Fernando Rodriguez Ramon Chino Puto Natalio Esclavo Boludo, being the pick of the bunch!<br />
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*in about a nano second.<br />
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**in addition to the sea, I am looking forward to drinking Old World wine (or, well, wine from just about any other continent will do, although I'm not sure Asian wine is up to much - is Lebanon classed as Asia? I think it probably is, and it produces some semi-decent wines, but it gets confusing what with Israel appearing in the Eurovision song contest and Isreal being even further away from Europe than Lebanon...). Anyway, please don't get me wrong (especially any rabid Argentinian nationalists reading this), I like your wine, I really do, it's just that I'm used to variety (it's the spice of life, after all) and after a while I find your big, gluggable, fruit-driven wines a bit, well, one-dimensional. Oh, and I'm not looking forward to drinking the sea, in case that was how it came across - just being near it, listening to it, watching it and maybe (as summer approaches) actually going in it (or at least, dipping in a single toe).<br />
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<b>Sunday 23rd January 2011</b><br />
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Oooh, I slept well! My stomach was almost totally back to normal by this stage (it occasionally felt a bit "uncomfortable" at times, but there were no more loose stools and no more nocturnal shitting, that's for sure [as if it's something you can be unsure about - well, there might be cases of sleep-shitting, I suppose, as it is only a natural extension of sleep-peeing, and we've all been there, haven't we. Haven't we? {when we were children, I mean, well, I hope}]). Anyway, greeted by another sunny day, (and after the yummy croissants and not-quite-so-yummy coffee) the decision was made (not hard!) to spend the morning by the pool. A group of girls from Buenos Aires had arrived at the hostel (this is not the reason for spending the morning by the pool, just an aside), and they were clearly on a hen-weekend (not in the raucous style of a group of pissed-up ladettes from our fair isle, no. More in the style of a giggling, cake-baking [complete with chocolate penises], mate-drinking, long-hair flicking, strange hybrid bikini-wearing, Argentinian-style hen party. Actually, they were a bit annoying, and didn't really get into the spirit of hostelling (keeping themselves to themselves and moaning when Oscar did some "top bombing" in the pool and splashed them a teeny-weeny little bit). Miserable cows!<br />
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Luckily our own little group comprised some of the loveliest people of the trip so far and it was really sad to say goodbye to Gigi and Fer, who were heading back to Buenos Aires. :-(<br />
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With our group now shrunk down to 6 people... In the afternoon we got the bus to the beach (La Florida), only for our trip to be aborted when we discovered that there were no more sunshades for hire (the beach was <i>so </i>busy - what with it being Sunday and all - that they were all already taken). Bugger. It was stinking hot (yes, again!) and with a blazing sun (ditto!) and so we decided (especially with Kevin among us, and his alabaster Breton complexion), that it would be more sensible to head back to the hostel and lounge (in the shade) by the pool instead. Thankfully, it wasn't a completely wasted trip. There was some kind of World Marathon Swimming Championship in progress (up and down the river), and so it was quite interesting to watch that for a while (especially seeing how strong the current was - on the way back down the river the more savvy swimmers headed out for deeper waters, where the faster current saw them overtaking the crawlers in the slow-lane).<br />
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So, it was more time spent in and around the pool. Which I love! I don't know why I bother with all the "acutally travelling" lark. I think I'm just a simple package tourist at heart. Give me sun, a pool (and a beach - ideally with crystal clear warm sea on the other side), and I'm happy. I should probably just spend the winters holed up in Playa de Las Americas, drinking lager with big-bellied Brits (after all I'm fast becoming one of those with all the meat I'm comsuming!). Alternatively, I suppose I could upgrade in class and do it in the Caribbean, but, basically, anywhere warm and sunny (with somewhere to swim) and I'm as happy as a pig in shit.<br />
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In the evening we had a date (Kevin, Oscar and Me) with the lovely Argentinian ladies (Agustina, Roxanna and Paula) at The Club de Milanesas. Crikey, that sounds far more exotic than it actually was! For anyone unfamiliar with what a <i>milanesa </i>is, then think breaded escalope and/or Wiener Schnitzel, which Argentinians are contractually obliged to eat at least twice a week (varying the meat content in order to spice up their lives somewhat). Anyway, this particular establishment treated its milanesas as if they were pizzas, garnishing them with various pizza-style toppings, which invariably including a huge dollop of sticky melted cheese. It wasn't fine dining (by any stretch of the imagination), but boy was it filling! We were all absolutely stuffed afterwards, and headed back to the hostel, happy in the knowledge we wouldn't need to eat again for three days. Actually, it was another lovely evening, and the combination of great company and the feeling of being on a proper holiday, are rendering these few days as some of the very best of the trip so far!<br />
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Oh, when we got back, the hostel had a power cut. Apparently, the town has various different electricity circuits and at times of peak demand (it was so hot that EVERYONE must have been using their air-conditioning), they switch one of them off in order to cope (I might just be making this up, but from various Spanish discussions that't how I understand it). Anyway, what's strange is that the hostel must itself be on more than one circuit, because the lights went out, but the air-conditioning kept working. Weird. So, it was in (almost) complete darkness that we went to bed...<br />
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<b>Monday 24th January 2011</b><br />
<br />
Another day in and around the pool (I sense one of this blog's many themes developing)! It was my last day with Oscar, as he was going back to his slave duties at the supermarket. We had lunch together (I put together some pasta/chickpea concoction, which I made really spicy a) to appeal to Oscar's tastebuds and b) to camouflage the fact that the pasata was rubbish and I didn't have any olive oil). He got his bus at 4pm, but it turned out it was the wrong one, that left him several blocks away from the supermarket. Thank goodness for his smartphone with GPS (I think I'm gonna get myself one of those upon my return - Dad, you can start researching for me, if you like! And anyone else with any recommendations/advice - just let me know), otherwise god (capital letter or not? Always a dilemma for an agnostic-going-on-athiest) knows where he would have ended up!<br />
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Anyway, he got there in the end (probably receiving a good beating from his boss for arriving back late - actually I later found out that the boss' wife did indeed give him a good telling off, firstly for daring to take a few days off and secondly for only wanting a summer job and not wanting to enslave himself to their tawdry little enterprise for the rest of his life. She makes the woman from the hostel in San Luis seem positively <i>civil, </i>nay <i>delightful, </i>in comparison!)<br />
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Whoops, pressed publish by accident. Hope I can edit this time... Let's just see...<br />
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Yup, it seems that I can edit this time, so I'll just finish off writing about Monday and then publish properly before going out for my evening constitutional.<br />
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So, where was I? Oh, yes, having just said goodbye to Oscar... Well, I subsequently spent some more time by the pool, then went for a bit of a walk in order to take out money (it was still really hot... and not exactly the temperature for being very active!). I had dinner with Kevin and the girls (making the world's biggest ever rice salad - where is Norris McWherter when you need him*). It was the last evening with everyone all together (the next day I was going to stay at the house of Vanesa - a Rosario resident all her life, for a bit of local flavour). So there was a touch of sadness in the air (and more power cuts)... but it was still a lovely, candle-lit evening, full of Spanish conversation (and French conversation - which has actually stopped being confusing now, as I can finally switch relatively painlessly between French and Spanish - not something which can be said about my Italian, I'm sure, which I fear has now become so Spanglified, that I might never get it back!!!). Anyway, it's all good brain exercise, and should stop the old grey matter from wasting away too much (especially necessary in the face of the wine and Fernet onslaught that it is up against).<br />
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Well, I'm going to leave it there for the moment. The last couple of days have been fractionally cooler (glorious, clear-blue skies allowing some of the heat to escape out into the atmosphere, perhaps), so it is the perfect evening for a decent walk around the city. I'm off out to explore some parts of Rosario that so far remain unknown (to me) and other parts that I have seen several/many times before (and like a lot!).<br />
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Best wishes to all my lovely readers.<br />
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Cheerio,<br />
Love J xx<br />
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*I know, he's dead.Sidmouthianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01614140676551279937noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7767214.post-86676735387351280712011-02-02T17:05:00.000+00:002011-02-02T17:05:59.994+00:00STILL in Rosario!Hello there,<br />
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Just time for a quick update before lunch. I'm still in Rosario (but back at the hostel now - lured back by the swimming pool and not wanting to overstay my welcome chez Vanesa). I'll try and get two days done in this sitting, and then (fingers crossed - if no-one else is using the computer), come back once I've had lunch and a siesta next to the pool!<br />
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Right then: <br />
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<b>Thursday 20th January 2011</b><br />
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After a night of getting up every hour or so to go to the toilet I was tired of/from shitting. Luckily it was just coming out of the one oriface (not the double-whammy of concurrent puking/shitting), and it wasn't totally liquid, so it could have been much worse. But diarrhoea is never pleasant. In the end I took some Immodium and that seemed to reduce the frequency of my thunderbox visits!<br />
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After all that nocturnal exercise, it was hard to drag myself out of bed. However, despite my shitting-induced lethargy, it was still a gorgeous day, so it wasn't too much hardship to spend the day relaxing next to the hostel's very nice swimming pool (even if it wasn't big enough to actually swim in).<br />
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By lunch time (and a little siesta) I was feeling much better, so in the afternoon I went off to find Oscar (who was working in Rosario, at a Chinese supermarket - which sounded like extremely hard work, for very little pay and with the added bonus of a slave-driving boss who barely let him leave the shop. Still, that was better than spending the summer doing nothing in the boiling furnace of La Rioja, apparently). Anyway, he somehow managed to get the afternoon off and we walked together to La Florida, which is a beach in the northern suburbs. It was lovely... another balmy late-afternoon/evening, strolling along the beach... people watching... gawping at the huge ships which occasionally pass by... paddling in the silty brown water. As we strolled back, we passed some beautiful houses in that part of town, and took refuge for a while in a plush new air-conditioned shopping centre. It was great... and especially nice to have some good company once again!<br />
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Oscar decided that he would take a break from the supermarket for a few days (a mini-break, if you like), so gathered up his things and came back to the hostel with me. When we got back we met some lovely Argentinians who were staying at the hostel (Fer, Gigi, Roxana, Paula and Agustina). We ate pizza with them and drank beer and Fernet. It was a lovely evening, and my stomach was feeling quite a bit better by that point. I had a slight relapse during the night (only one toilet visit required, though!), so didn't sleep <i>all </i>that well, but the diminishing frequency of toilet visits was reassuring, nonetheless (and a blessed relief for my sore bottom)!<br />
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<b>Friday 21st January 2011</b><br />
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It must be said the hostel breakfast is a triumph. It's simple - nothing more than 2 types of croissant (butter or lard - the former sweet, the later savoury) and cafe con leche, but it does the job and tastes nice too (except when they don't put enough coffee in the machine and it comes out watery... but it's a minor quibble).<br />
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After breakfast Oscar and I met up with Vanesa and did some proper sightseeing in Rosario (with our local guide leading the way!). First we sauntered up Av. Oroño (with a beautiful tree-lined promenade all the way down the middle) to the river's edge. It was getting hot, with the sun already high in the sky by 11am (I believe we are on an equivalent latitude to southern Morocco in this part of Argentina). We then took in various waterfront parks (including a huge private school, which is sort of located under the esplanade), all of which have great views across the river, and our visit culminated in the impressive (if massively Fascist-looking) Monumento a la Bandera. As the name would suggest (if you understand Spanish), it's a monument dedicated to the Argentine flag, and it is certainly monumental! Although I'm not sure I would exactly call it beautiful, it looked really dramatic against the very blue sky! The views from the top of the tower were fantastic too. (as always, visit http://picasaweb.google.com/sidmouth13 for pictorial evidence).<br />
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We had a lunch in a riverside restaurant, which, naturally, given the location, was over-priced and a bit disappointing, but the setting was lovely, so I'll forgive it (this time!). I had Cesar Salad, which was okay (I'm in a forgiving mood, otherwise I would be more critical of the lumps of stale bread that passed for crutons and the mediocre pre-packaged dressing).<br />
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Vanesa had to return home to get ready for work, so we walked back to the hostel (along Cordóba, which is the main street in Rosario, and another pleasant place fora wander). We quickly grabbed our stuff for the beach and went to meet the 5 Argentinian ladies from the night before (and Kevin, from France), who were on the beach up at La Florida (getting the bus for a bargain 2 pesos). It was lovely to be on the beach (it felt like a proper beach holiday - something which I'd rather been craving all the time I've been inland) and although the river looks absolutely disgusting ("thick brown sludge" would be an accurate discription, with islands of debris floating by, along with ships [and people!] of all shapes and sizes), it was still refreshing for a quick dip. However, I couldn't bring myself to swim with my head in (plenty of people did!) as it just seems so counter-intuitive given the colour and squelchy mud underfoot (I'm sure it's just silty, but when water looks <i>that </i>brown, it isn't something that invited prolonged submersion). Oscar and me tried to teach Shithead to the others, who, apart from Gigi, didn't seem that receptive an audience (or maybe the sun had made them a bit slow), and we drank mate with squash (think: squash drunk through a straw with bits floating in the glass). Oh yes, before I forget, a quick comment on the bikini bottom fashion here. I have to admit I don't quite get the style, which is best described as a cross between a normal brief and a thong, therefore cutting in half-way up the bottom. I guess it is supposed to accentuate the round curves of the bottom (which I believe is the most important part of the anatomy here in South America), but on most people it just kind of looks ridi<i>culo</i>us (culo means ass in Spanish [and Italian] for anyone who didn't pick up immediately on this hilarious pun). Hmm... Maybe it's me, but you just can't beat a good old-fashioned knitted swimming costume IMHO!<br />
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Well, as the sun was beginning to set, it was back to the hostel to contemplate bikini fashion, cook pasta for dinner, drink wine, drink (more) Fernet and prepare to hit one of Rosario's premier nitespots. Madam was the name (don't worry, it wasn't a whore-house [as the name might suggest], just a night-club), and dancing was the game. Actually, we were all feeling a bit tired after the exertions of the day, but still managed to have dance-related fun until 4:30am, when we headed back to the hostel. Vanesa had come to join us and (having lost each other in the Reggaetonified melee) stayed a bit longer at the club with Udi, from Israel. Unfortunately, on the way to the bus stop, she had her handbag grabbed by a passing motorcyclist (a common form of theft on the streets of Argentina, apparently), and so had a rather longer night that the rest of us (reporting it to the police before finally managing to get the bus back home around 7am, I believe).<br />
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Right, it's time for lunch so I will leave it there for now. Another two days down, another couple of weeks to go (am I ever going to get this thing back on track?)...<br />
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Best wishes y'all...<br />
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Take care,<br />
Love J xxSidmouthianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01614140676551279937noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7767214.post-53204588544250897462011-01-28T20:34:00.000+00:002011-01-28T20:34:46.963+00:002 Days Forward, 10 Days BackBack again!<br />
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I'm still staying with Vanesa in Rosario, so after a day on the beach yesterday, it is time for a bit more blog action today. One more day's update and I'll be telling you about the city where I'm actually staying. And that hasn't happened since I was in Salta - so, it's progress of sorts (even if I am still well over a week behind schedule)!<br />
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Right, here goes:<br />
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<b>Tuesday 18th January 2011</b><br />
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My bus wasn't leaving Tafí until 16:30, so I had most of the day to kill after checking out of the hostel at 10:00am. At least I was able to leave my stuff at the hostel, but still, I didn't feel inclined to go on any major hikes (which would have been nice had the hostel been better and I had therefore felt inclined to stay longer). But, as it was, I made do with talking to Lucas and Victoria and wandering around the town with them. I then cooked lunch and chatted to another Argentinian guy, Omar, who was having a work-crisis, similar to the one I had when I decided to stop being a landscape architect 4 or 5 years ago. He was an actuary, so had even more reason to be in crisis, I suppose! ;-) Anyway, it was interesting to compare notes and realise that there are plenty of other people out there who aren't satisfied with their chosen careers.<br />
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It was another sunny day, but relatively cool (mid 20s, I would guess), so the walk to the bus station was quite pleasant (and downhill, which always helps with a 15kg rucksack). The first stage of my mammoth bus journey was from Tafí to Tucumán. The bus was late leaving (giving me the chance to get the wind up about whether I had heard right when the driver I spoke to told me to wait for the double-decker bus). But it was okay... and the bus even made up time en route - arriving a little bit early into Tucumán.<br />
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It was really interesting to see how the landscape changed on the way down into the lowlands (and how your ears popped too, what with the change in altitude [nearly 2000m of vertical drop]). Alpine meadows gave way to misty, scrubby mountainsides, to a jungle-clad ravine (with a gushing rock-strewn river far below) and finally the sugarcane and tobacco plantations of the plains below. Innumerable hairpin bends and steep drop-offs made it a rather hairy ride at times, and once again I had that annoying combination of aisle-seat and smoked glass windows. However, I must say the seats were incredibly comfortable (with a great recline) and the bus clean and new, so I have to give Aconquija credit for that! Alas no photos, but you hopefully get the gist from the description outlined above.<br />
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I was lucky to have a relatively quick (45 minute) connection in Tucumán, prior to getting the bus to Rosario. This was something else that I had been worrying about because for the first time I hadn't bought my ticket in advance. (As usual) I needn't have worried, though, as there was no problem getting a seat.<br />
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One observation from the bus station (check Picasaweb for photographic evidence) was the presence of coin-slot TVs on the concourse. It struck me as quite odd to see small groups gathered around TV screens in the bus station, but I suppose it is as good a way as any to idle away the time waiting for a bus!<br />
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At first I thought the bus journey was going to be a complete nightmare. There was a hyperactive child who wouldn't stop talking (loudly) and playing with a toy-sword that made a loud whoooshing noise when he waved it in the air (which he did approximately every 15 seconds). If only I'd known the Spanish for "if you don't stop making that bloody racket, I'm going to stick that flipping sword where the sun don't shine"... Instead, I just sat there (feeling increasingly irritated) waiting for him to fall asleep. I also tried ear-plugs (but to no avail - it was still incredibly loud). He didn't fall asleep, though... He just continued talking and waving that bloody sword. And then, just to add insult to injury (don't worry non-native speakers, this is just an expression, he hadn't literally injured me with his sword), he started to pretend to be different animals: "soy un tigre... RRRRRRRROOOOOAAAAAAARRRRRR!", "soy un cock... (yes you are)... COCK-A-BLOODY-DOODLE-DOO." Didn't he realise that animals don't have swords? Idiot. He then repeatedly tried to get him mum's attention : "Ma, Ma, MAA, MAAAA, MAMIIIIIIIIII"... and failing that (ignorant cow... of course I blame her for her son's behaviour), tried talking <i>at </i>the poor kids sat next to him (some indeciferable waffle, that I couldn't make out).<br />
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In the end I was forced to use the "glare". I cut out the middle man and glared straight at the mother, and on the second attempt she took the hint and told her spawn to be quiet and go to sleep.<br />
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Shortly afterwards I fell asleep myself and actually managed a few decent spells before taking out the ear plugs and removing the sleeping-mask (which I sketch I must look - even more than usual) just after 7am. I treated myself to some coffee syrup from the coach's coffee dispenser, which was utterly foul. I guess they just pour in more and more sugar until it reaches saturation point and will dissolve no more - it was even sweeter than dulce de leche. No wonder diabetes rates are soaring in Argentina - everything is just so <i>SWEET</i>.<br />
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And before I knew it (how these journeys just fly past - and on this occasion I'm actually not kidding), I was in Rosario...<br />
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<b>Wednesday 19th January 2011</b><br />
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Upon arrival at the hostel I discovered that it cost 5 pesos more than advertised (annoying) and that I would have to wait until 10am to move into my room (less annoying, because I expected to have to wait until 12 noon).<br />
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I watched a bit of the Australian Open while waiting (Federer winning a 5-set epic) and did some stuff on the internet. Then I moved into my room, had a shower and started writing my diary (in physical, hand-written form). The hostel seemed nice (good kitchen and a CLEAN swimming pool out the back). The weather was very hot and humid (we had already had a few thundery showers, but luckily not until after I had walked to the hostel from the bus station). While I was writing my diary there was a group of 6 Israelis discussing things very LOUDLY and very aggessively (well, it sounded aggressive to my sensitive British ears). Maybe it's just the language. They really seem to spit things out. The only things I understood (thus confirming my suspicions that they were Israeli) were TEL AVIV, KIBBUTZ and FACEBOOK - all articulated with what sounded very much like pure venom!<br />
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I was hoping to get to the supermarket in between showers and then have a bit of a siesta...<br />
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Hahahahaha... that was a joke. I got <i>to </i>the supermarket between showers, but didn't manage to get back! While I was shopping the rain just got heavier and heavier. By the time I came to walk the 3 blocks back the hostel the rain was sheeting it down and the streets were awash (and I mean <i>awash </i>- the water was over a foot deep in places) and I literally had to paddle back. Once I had overcome the initial reluctance to get my feet wet (impossible), it was actually quite amusing to be wading through knee deep water just to cross the road. As noted in a previous blog post, Argentinian drainage leaves a little to be desired.<br />
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Well, back in the (assumed) shelter of the hostel, I managed to dry out a bit... and because I had been walking about in bare feet (while my flip-flops dried out) I decided to go and wash them before having a well-earned siesta. But, while I had my foot in the sink (no, not an idiom), I heard a bit of a commotion downstairs. After drying them off, I went back downstairs... only to discover the entire ground floor (including my dorm) covered in a good couple of inches of water! Ooops (I was now beginning to regret my oft-proclaimed "I like a good natural disaster" interest in the power of nature)! And it was a wasted foot-washing effort, as well!<br />
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First, I thought it had rained so much that the water had come in from the street, but no... what had actually happened was that there was a bit of a drip in one of the upstairs room, so the guy from the hostel had gone onto the roof to investigate. He found some leaves blocking a drain, so decided to remove them. Unfortunately, said leaves were also blocking a hole in the roof, so when it was cleared, the water rushed straight on in, down the stairs and ended up pooled on the ground floor. Whooops!<br />
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I spent the next couple of hours helping to try and get the water back outside (a mixture of squeegy-thingies, brushes and cloths) and in the end it was sort of dry(ish). Thankfully, the Israeli guys were in the room at the time and had kindly put my bags on the bed, thus saving me from flood damage and a subsequent insurance claim! ;-) And thankfully the rain water was clean... it wasn't like the stinking brown flood water you see on the news... if that was the case, Houston we would have had a problem!<br />
<br />
Luckily, as is often the case in times of war, famine and flood, people are brought together and a community is formed around the hardship. Thus, a strange mixture of people bonded over the receding floodwaters: the aforementioned Israelis (not much bonding on their part - they were already happily ensconsed in their own little group) a nice Anglo-Irish couple (well, totally Irish, but she had lived in London for years and almost totally lost her accent), Kevin from France (who was over the moon at the opportunity to speak French after a week of stilted discussions in a mixture of English and Spanish), a weird American doom-monger (everything you said was countered with tales of woe and hopelessness) and, well, I think that was probably it. So, I had a pleasant evening chatting with them, with intermittant visits to the toilet (oh yes, the shits had begun!). Still, it didn't stop me enjoying a steak and some rough plonk... although they might have further contributed to my downfall, which will be detailed in the next installment of "A Sidmouthian Abroad" aka "The shit hits the pan: surviving the trots in Rosario"!<br />
<br />
So, that's all for today. I'm about to head out into the balmy (or still sweltering - judging by how hot it is in here) evening air... and get the bus into the centre... paying a visit to the guys at the hostel (I'm now staying with Vanesa, slightly out of town) and then meeting up with Oscar for a drink.<br />
<br />
I'll hopefully have more to report tomorrow, but if not, have a good weekend everyone.<br />
<br />
Best wishes,<br />
Love J xxSidmouthianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01614140676551279937noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7767214.post-30476932150829668702011-01-26T19:51:00.000+00:002011-01-26T19:51:41.421+00:00Further updates from RosarioGood afternoon from a hot and sticky Rosario,<br />
<br />
The weather is still rather thundery and unpredictable, and it is deemed by Vanesa too early to head into the centre (only mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the 4:30pm sun, it would seem... but I'm one of those, so I wouldn't really mind... still, it gives me the opportunity for another blog update, so the number of days outstanding will soon be down to single figures). Yay, a manageable amount of typing is on the horizon! Right, back to business:<br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
<b>Friday 14th January 2011</b><br />
<br />
The number of people passing through the hostel was staggering. Most people only seemed to stay one night (max 2) and then move on. It's the north-west Argentina tourist circuit - tick places off a list and then sally forth! They also seem to leave at the crack of dawn - buggers! Indeed, there was one couple who came back at about 2am and then got up at 4 am to leave. Odd antics, it must be said: what is the point of paying for a hostel for the night if you are only going to sleep there for 2 hours? Hmm... puzzling.<br />
<br />
So, it was a reasonably early breakfast (why am I always tempted to try dulce de leche "just one more time"?... It's not suddenly going to become any less sweet, is it?). After breakfast I had a nice chat with Ellie and Rem, sat in the hostel's lovely courtyard (another hot/sunny day, so happy to just relax in the shade for a while). We decided to take in a couple of wineries before lunch, but were thwarted at each attempt. The first couple were closed, the next one was so busy that we couldn't get anywhere near the tasting room (3 tour buses in at the same time - that's what you call good planning!) and at the fourth one we had just missed the last tour before lunch. So we gave up and turned our attention towards food instead (a recurring theme of this blog, it must be said). We assembled a nice salady lunch back at the hostel (one of the advantages of people continually moving on [at the crack of dawn] is that the hostel remains blissfully quiet during the day) and after lunch we had a nice little siesta (to avoid the blistering heat of the middle of the day and make up for the lost sleep from the noisy hordes coming and going during the night).<br />
<br />
Post-siesta we resumed our wine-tasting. First we returned to Vasija Secreta (scene of the morning's tour-bus scrum) because Rem had lost his locker key and thought that was where it might be. We couldn't find the key, but had a tour and tasting (free! So therefore bought a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon - another recurring theme). After wine had been consumed I plucked up the courage to ask about the key. And lo! They had found it - it was waiting for us behind the tasting bar (as if my magic). We decided against the tour and tasting at El Esteco because they wanted 20 pesos for the privilege (I believe it's owned by Diageo, so big business demands big profits!). We decided to spend that money on a bottle of wine for the evening intead (our own private tasting, if you like). This time, Tannat. We then headed to the southern end of the town/village (the campsite zone - heaving with [slightly crusty] people) and were lucky to catch the last tour at Domingo Hermanos (Sunday brothers). It was free and included cheese (goat's) which was delish. Bought a bottle of Torrontés and some cheese for after dinner. Cafayate was bathed in the usual gorgeous evening light (illuminating the mountains beyond) and the whole place looked (and felt) lovely.<br />
<br />
Dinner (shared with Rem and Ellie) consisted of a spicy tuna, pepper and tomato pasta, which was rather good, even if I do say so myself (I was the chef on this occasion), washed down with a lovely fragrant Torrontés. Cheese and Cabernet Sauvignon followed (also damn good). Naturally, an early night was required in order to digest effectively! :-)<br />
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<b>Saturday 15th January 2011</b><br />
<br />
I decided to stay in Cafayate a bit longer than orginally planned because it was just so lovely there. The hostel was great - even the music was good (which is a rarity in hostels - you get the usual hippy dross: Bob Marley, acoustic-surfy-crap, that kind of thing). Modest Mouse was playing on the stereo as I wrote my diary and all was good with the world. It was also good to spend some time with some like-minded (English-speaking people). All in all, it felt a bit like a holiday from travelling, which would recharge my batteries and set me up for the next stage of the adventure.<br />
<br />
Continuing very much in the holiday spirit (and because it was getting hotting and hotter with each passing day), we decided to go to the local outdoor swimming pool. It was 7 pesos to get in and surrounded by shady grassed areas. It was also absolutely huge and while not crystal clear, it was a damn-sight cleaner than most of the (small, hostel-based) pools that I had experienced up to that point. And it was just lovely to have a refreshing dip, when it got too hot out of the water!<br />
<br />
After a good session in and around the pool we had a late lunch back at the hostel (great empanadas + tomato salad [with expensive Argentinian olive oil {which I am trying to eek out}but which I could eat every day] + pretty decent bread), and an even later siesta. It was the hottest day in Cafayate so far (sweating even in the shade!).<br />
<br />
We took in two of the wineries which I had already visited (they were just around the corner from the hostel - how convenient! - and Ellie and Rem hadn't been before). I even managed to get a second tasting in El Tránsito and bought a bottle in each. We then toddled off to purchase the ingredients for our steak dinner (having steak twice in a week is something I would only ever dream of doing here in Argentina!)...<br />
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Another nice Torrentés was quaffed as an apperitif (while playing a few games of Shit Head [a card game loved by travellers around the world for those not in the know]) and then drank a Tannat with the steak (accompanied by mash, green beans and caramelised onions). Yum Cabernet Sauvignon and more goat's cheese followed. Totally stuffed (and a little bit squiffy) as a result. Wandered slowly around town for a while (to help shake things down a bit and thus speed up the digestion process). The main square is a lovely place to loiter, with good people watching to be had (boys dressed in weird baggy trousers and cowboy boots and hats - dancers of some kind?, people drinking <i>mate </i>[everywhere you look in Argentina], folk singers, empanada sellers and, of course, groups and groups of young Argentinians, spending their summer holidays travelling together).<br />
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<b>Sunday 16th January 2011</b><br />
<br />
I woke up to another scorching hot day (I'm getting tired of writing it's the hottest yet, but it was, I swear!). The hostel was again very quiet with everyone having left early, so I had a leisurely breakfast and spent a while updating my diary (you don't realise the hard work that goes into the blog! Hand-written notes later transcribed and embellished on the computer, all for your reading pleasure)! ;-)<br />
<br />
I booked my hostel in Tafí del Valle for the following night and then went to get my bus ticket. And how lucky was I? I got the very last seat on the 2pm bus... otherwise I would have had to get the bus at 6am in the morning (or wait another day - hmm... which one do you think I would have chosen?). Anyway, I didn't need to face that dilemma - lady luck was dancing by my side. We (me and Ellie and Rem) then went to get some bits and pieces for dinner (in case the shops closed on a Sunday afternoon) and assemble the ingredients for a picnic lunch beside the pool.<br />
<br />
Armed with food and sun cream and playing cards, we went to the pool and had another lovely day lounging in the shade (simply to hot to spend more than about 5 minutes in the sun)! In the afternoon a strange (Torremolinos-style) cloud came over (and circled around) the sun, but as it was in the high 30s it provided welcome relief, rather than turning Michelle blue (as happened in the south of Spain that time, all those years ago)! The pool was really busy (I guess all the locals were making the most of their day off work), but no-one seemed to be actually swimming, so the deep area in the middle was always quiet. The business also made for good people watching (I was surprised by the number of very young-looking parents - or maybe it was old brothers and sisters, I wasn't entirely sure).<br />
<br />
In the evening we made a chicken salad (marinated in garlic, chili and oregano and fried in small strips on a griddle pan - people in the hostel commented about how often we cooked "proper" food - hopefully in the process dismissing a few stereotypes about British food!), drank Torrontés (when in Cafayate...) and then I accompanied Ellie and Rem on their first tentative steps into the wonderful world of Fernet. After the initial shock, they soon got used to it and maybe even enjoyed it come the end (of the bottle)! We played more Shit-head (Rem losing a whopping 19 times [over the course of 2 or 3 days] before his mammoth losing streak finally came to and end the following day. Ellie and I limited our defeats to 4 and 5 respectively, thus demonstrating that the UK still dominates the world in the field of international Shit-head).<br />
<br />
Well, that was almost it for Cafayate. Our time had come to an end. I was really going to miss the town and Ellie and Rem's company and the hostel... I had had a great time: lovely place, nice people, gorgeous scenery, wonderful wine and brilliant weather. What more could I ask for?<br />
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<b>Monday 17th January 2011</b><br />
<br />
It was a leisurely start to the day after the Fernet of the night before! We didn't drink that much but maybe it was the effects of the altitude again (!). We used the remainder of the chicken to make some mighty fine sandwiches for an early lunch and then headed off to catch our respective buses.<br />
<br />
The bus journey again was gorgeous (running out of appropriate adjectives and/or superlatives), with more sand-dunes, rocky escarpments and barren mountain backdrops, but I had an aisle seat (boo) and the smoked-glass windows gave everything a gloomy look, despite the sunshine. It became even more gloomy as we headed up to the pass (over 3000m above sea level), which would take us over to Tafí del Valle. We were in the clouds by that stage, although that gave everything an atmospheric, Wuthering Heights, misty-moorland feel. Indeed, it could have been the North Yorkshire Moors, were it not for the occasional llama/alpaca (not sure I can tell the difference - are the latter hairier?) silhouetted against the murk...<br />
<br />
As we descended into Tafí del Valle, the clouds parted and the landscape became more Alpine in character. The town sprawled rather (no European-style planning controls here!) but if you looked beyond (ignoring the foreground mess), up into the mountains, it was beautiful.<br />
<br />
Less beautiful was the hostel (Nomade). It was grotty and hippified and rough around the edges, to say the least. Maybe I had been spoiled in Cafayate, but my first impressions were not good. For a start it was difficult to make out who worked there and who was a guest (I later guessed that it was two lesbians and their coterie of adopted children [all female] who worked there, but of course, it could just be my imagination working overtime). Anyway, I didn't like the hippy-comune-style atmosphere and, frankly, the bathroom was disgusting! All in all I was glad to be only staying one night.<br />
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Thankfully, things improved when I went out for a wander around the town in the evening sunshine (enjoying the views, which were framed by the mountains everywhere you looked). It was noticably fresher than Cafayate, although still pleasant in the sun.<br />
<br />
When I got back to the hostel I discovered that the young Argentinian couple from Cafayate (who I knew were also coming to Tafí) were in the bunk next to me! We comiserated with each other about the state of the hostel (it was the only one in town, as far as we were aware) and then proceeded to spend the evening together (sharing the cheap wine I had bought [nothing special but not <i>too </i>bad] and the hostel's [very meagre] homemade pasta - which I am blaming for the runs which were to come on a day or so later: hygiene certainly wasn't one of the hostel's strong-points). Actually, at least by this stage there was a nice atmosphere in the hostel. Most of the guests were eating and drinking together and it made for a friendly and sociable evening. Which was just as well, as it was getting really cold (inside and out), which I suppose is what happens when you are perched on the side of a mountain! I spoke to the only other non-Argentinian in the hostel (a French guy from Paris - lots of Frenchies about in this part of the world), but mainly enjoyed the company of Lucas and Victoria for the duration of the evening...<br />
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Well, I think it's now probably cooled sufficiently to poke our noses outside the door, so we're off to an art gallery for a spot of culture, before going to a birthday party of one of Vanesa's friends later on. Therefore, I'll get this up and posted now, because it will be tomorrow at the earliest before I get the chance to write any more.<br />
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Have a good evening everyone (or whatever time period your own personal time-zone dictates)...<br />
<br />
Best wishes,<br />
James xxSidmouthianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01614140676551279937noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7767214.post-14357002012977607592011-01-26T16:10:00.000+00:002011-01-26T16:10:34.829+00:00Rosario and a computer at last!Hola chicos,<br />
<br />
My last attempt at an update was thwarted by the computer crashing, and me subsequently taking my ass in my hands and storming off in a strop (well, that's a typcial Wood-style exaggeration, but I decided not to continue writing it at that point, at any rate). And then, you know what happens... the hostel floods, the power goes out for hours at a time, you spend time drinking Fernet and chatting and lounging by the pool and scratching your ass (once said hands have been removed), and before you know it nearly a week has passed and there are now almost two weeks of updates to write (which necessitates a great deal of procrastination, obviously). So, I will leave in the bit that the computer did manage to save before crashing, and continue from there. By the way, I am now staying at Vanesa's house (still in Rosario) so at least I don't have to worry about other people waiting to use the computer (unless Vanesa herself needs to use it, of course, in which case I might have to abandon and come back later!). But, anyway, here goes...<br />
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<i>"Good afternoon,</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>I have finally arrived at a hostel (in Rosario) with a computer (that works) and a bit of time to update the blog, so without any waffle (a first!) let's get the show on the road. Oh, apart from the fact that I've got the shits for the first time since I arrived, which is another excuse to take it easy and update this instead of hitting the town to explore in the heat of the day.</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<b><i>Wednesday 12th January 2011</i></b><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>I was quite sad to be leaving Salta. The people at the hostel had made me feel really welcome, it was cheap (!), the breakfast was good and I liked the atmosphere. Thumbs up to Hostel San Jorge in Salta, if you should ever be heading that way.</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>Before leaving I had a good Skype with Mum and Dad and made the most of what I assumed would be the last good internet connection for a while (I was right!). I took a taxi to the bus station (a rare extravagance) because there was a clear blue sky, a blazing sun and it was probably the hottest day in Salta so far.</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>It was an absolutely stunning bus ride to Cafayate. It started off lush and tropical, drying out as we got up into the mountains. I initally thought that I had shat out with my seat. I was next to the window but on what I thought was the wrong side of the bus - most of the good views seemed to be on the opposite side. Grrr... But, as we got further up the valley/canyon, the bus crossed over the river and the views from my side of the bus were absolutely spectacular (and far to superior to the other side of the bus! Ha! Suckers!!!). There were amazing rock formations and sand dunes and cacti and a winding river and in the evening sun the rocks were all illuminated various shades of copper, orange, vermillion, red, gold, yellow... and all set against a deep blue sky."</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
Well, that was as far as I got before the computer crashed, so I'm now updating in real-time (my blog-time-line is so confusing, even the most avid Doctor Who fan would have trouble keeping up!). So we will get back to the bus ride and take it from there...<br />
<br />
As the bus headed into Cafayate, the vineyards for which the town is famous came into view and the landscape changed once again: rows of green vines, with an occasional bodega painted white - acting as a beacon against the desert landscape and blue sky (well, a beacon to me, certainly - wine was my main reason for coming to Cafayate).<br />
<br />
Wow! I have to say my first impressions of Cafayate were great. A small town/large village, with neatly kept streets, a lovely main square, a golden evening light and a balmy air. What more could I ask for (well, the sea, obviously - but you can't have it all). Anyway, I was forced to explore earlier than anticipated because I couldn't find the bloody hostel (the first time that's happened on my entire trip - and in what is probably the smallest place so far)! I later realised that the map I had been looking at earlier in the day wasn't orientated north-south (eejits), and because Cafayate was so small I didn't create my usual hand-drawn map to lead me to my destination. In the end I was forced to ask (and as with most men, this is not something that comes easily when it concerns directions!). I plucked up the courage to approach a group of young lads (who initially thought that I was looking for a room), and they pointed me in the right direction...<br />
<br />
...and what a lovely little hostel was waiting for me. Hostel Ruta 40 was lush! A gorgeous little courtyard, nice dorm, en-suite, firm matress (yes!) and it was all very clean and well equipped.<br />
<br />
But I didn't have time to hang around enjoying the atmosphere - there was wine to be drunk! ;-) So, I dumped my stuff and hit the wineries straight away (it was already 6pm and nearly closing time!). I tried two, both of which included the usual tour (I think I could probably do it myself now [even in Spanish] because they all say the same thing [perhaps they are issued with a script by the ministry of tourism!] and [usually] have the same "<i>this is so boring, I've said it 500 times befor</i>e" tone). I could happily skip the tour and just go straight to the tasting (I don't wish to sound conceited [it just comes naturally], but I probably know more than most of the tour guides, anyway). The first, Nanni, cost 5 pesos for tasting and there I met two guys I had been staying with in Tilcara, earlier on my trip (small world, yada, yada!). We then went to El Tránsito, which was free, and therefore better (I'm not sure if the wine itself tasted superior, but the pschological effects of it being free clearly outweigh any taste difference - note to any bodega managers reading this: people are more likely to like and therefore buy your wine if you offer free tastings!). Ooh, I'm in a patronising mood today! ;-)<br />
<br />
During the tastings I sampled some nice wines (Tannat, Malbec [enough already], Cabernet Sauvignon and Torrentés [the local speciality, both sweet and dry]). I was most impressed with the Cabernet Sauvignon, although the dry Torrentés was pleasingly light and floral (and very dry), with a whiff of elderflower cordial.<br />
<br />
As a little aside, wandering around the town, it struck me how every girl in Argentina between the age of approximately 16 and 24 has (very) long hair. Without exception (yes, another <i>slight </i>exaggeration). It would seem to be the current fashion, and to go against the grain would be deemed such a shocking action that you would immediately become a social pariah and sent on your way to Coventry with a big arrow above your head, marked "lesbian". Come on girls - when you've got such pretty faces (which is also without exception), a neat gamine crop would look lovely. Not only that, but it would also set you apart from the crowd (in a good way), and it would stop you from all blurring into one large mass of "groups of 5 or 6 Argentinian girls, all travelling during their summer holidays, all giggling and swishing their long hair, waiting until 2am to go out, just because it's the done thing". There, I've said it.<br />
<br />
Anyway, back at the hostel, I met Agathe and Caroline from Paris. And they were very Parisienne indeed! If it wasn't for the lack of small dog dressed in a Chanel doggy-coat, they appeared that they could have been elegantly sashaying down the Champs-Elysées every time they set foot outside the dormitory. Despite the physical appearance though, they certainly didn't fit the stereotype of being aloof and English-hating. They were lovely! We decided to buy and cook steak together, which was yummy, and it was a thoroughly pleasant evening, sat in the courtyard of the hostel, wallowing in the balmy, scented air of Cafayate. We later met Josh(ua) from Melbourne, who was a great guy, and a rather more annoying group of Argentinian girls (who almost seemed too young to be travelling alone - I guess they were 18 or 19, but acted like they were 12). Oh, and yes, I think they all had long hair!<br />
<br />
Jeez... one day down, 13 to go! Aaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrgggghhhhhh....<br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
<b>Thursday 13th January 2011</b><br />
<br />
I'm still amazed at how little Argentinians actually sleep (I have a sneaking suspicion that they all sleep during the day - an 8 hour siesta in the park, perhaps). So, I was roused from my slumber several times before eventually giving in to the call of breakfast and hauling my ass out of bed at 9:30am. It was a good breakfast at the hostel (although Frosties with over-sweetened drinking yoghurt [which I mistakenly thought was milk] was a bit <i>too </i>sweet [maybe even for an Argentinian - it made Dulce de Leche seem like chicory in comparison]). I quite liked the orange juice though (although that too is probably sweetened to render it palatable to Argentinian taste-buds). So, the bread with dulce de leche on top of that was just too much. It tipped me over the edge (not, I didn't vomit, I just mean I realised I'd had enough). I'm sorry Argentina, but I'm sick of Dulce de Leche now. I just want a nice big jar of marmite and a packet of salt and vinegar crisps (the latter not for breakfast, obviously).<br />
<br />
I was umming and aahing about what to do. I had various options: La Quebrada de las Conchas (is that rude?) with the French girls, wine tasting by myself or walking to a waterfall with Josh. I plumped for the latter, as I fancied a good trek. I hadn't done much proper exercise for a while and felt the need to work up a good sweat (which wasn't going to be difficult as it was already about 35 degrees by 10am). So, kitted out with the essentials (water and sun cream being the two most important considering how sunny it was), we set off...<br />
<br />
It was a very good 5 or 6 hour day out. It was quite a demanding trek in places (scrambling over rocks like a mountain goat - Dad would have loved it, as did I!), but utterly worth it. Oh, yes, I almost forgot, I had a shorts malfunction at one point - I heard a bit of a ripping sound while stepping up onto a rock, but naturally assumed I was just "letting rip" and thought nothing more of it. I later realised, however, while sat at the table back at the hostel, that I was showing my pants to the world (luckily I was wearing some!). Hahaha... 'twas fixed using a bit of needle and thread, and some handy needlework inherited from Mum.<br />
<br />
Anyway, back to the hike. It was really beautiful throughout. The landscape was stunning, with rocky mountain sides and giant cacti all around (<a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/sidmouth12/Cafayate02#">http://picasaweb.google.com/sidmouth12/Cafayate02#</a> for details), and we had the reward of an icy swim under a waterfall at the end of it (where we also had our lunch and a bit of a rest before heading back). There were quite a lot of groups of (mainly) Argentinians, but there weren't enough people to spoil it. Any, anyway, most of them tended to stick together in clumps (it seems to be the Latin mentality of wanting to spend their time in large groups - so the big Waterfall at the end was surrounded by loads of people, while the smaller cascades slightly downstream were deserted [and several people even asked us if we knew the bigger waterfalls were nearby, obviously wondering why we would want to spend our time alone when we could have surrounded ourselves with screaming kids and noise and chaos instead!]).<br />
<br />
We were pretty kackered upon our return to the hostel, but still found the energy for one wine-tasting session (10 pesos, so a bit steep, but we did get some cheese included). I bought a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon (from El Tránsito - see, free tastings <i>do </i>work) to share with Josh in the evening and we met a nice Anglo-Dutch couple (no, nothing to do with Shell) at the hostel (Ellie and Rem). After dinner we went out for wine-flavoured ice-cream (more like sorbet), which was a bit gross and sat in the plaza to soak up the atmosphere. It was very busy, but still with a laid back and languid feel... everyone relaxing in the balmy evening air. We said goodbye to Josh (who was leaving early the next morning) and were in bed before 12!<br />
<br />
Well, I know I've only managed to update 2 days, but it's almost time for lunch and I at least want to publish something before switching off the computer. So, that's all for now, folks.<br />
<br />
Hopefully back later with more fun and frolics...<br />
<br />
Take care y'all,<br />
Love J xxSidmouthianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01614140676551279937noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7767214.post-32255758929490430462011-01-12T01:28:00.000+00:002011-01-12T01:28:39.981+00:00Last day in Salta (and probably the last update for a while)Good evening,<br />
<br />
<br />
I thought I should complete the Salta chronicles, to draw a line under this stage of the trip, because I doubt I'm going to have such good internet access in the coming days (as I travel up into the mountains, and back down again). I'm heading to Cafayate and then Tafí del Valle, before going back down to the lowlands, on a circuitous route back to Buenos Aires (hoping to take in Rosario, Parana, Corrientes [maybe], Iguazu and such like).<br />
<br />
<br />
So, back to today (which is unusual in itself - it's not often that I write as it happens!):<br />
<br />
<b>Tuesday 11th January 2011 </b>(the date is virtually in binary [if you ignore the 2!], as it was yesterday, which I'm sure will appeal to any computer geeks out there)<br />
<br />
Another disturbed night. A guy in my dorm last night woke us all up with the most incredible snore I have ever heard. It beats Dad's train impression into a cocked hat! It's hard to describe, but the best description I can come up with is that it was like a cross between a dog barking, a (large) firework exploding, a clap of thunder (directly overhead), a pig having sex and a steam train on a steep incline. All combined! It was utterly INCREDIBLE. I would have thought I was dreaming, but the bloke in the bunk opposite looked at me and just said "WHAT THE F***!". He's Argentinian and hardly speaks any English, so it must have shocked him into speaking the language fluently (either that or he watching too many American films). Anyway, after the initial shock had subsided, it was actually quite funny!<br />
<br />
Otherwise, I slept reasonably well and was up at 9am! I decided to make the most of the sunny morning and went out early(ish) to take more photos (currently uploading), buy my bus ticket for tomorrow and visit the Modern Art Museum (reasonably interesting, but nothing particularly special - still, it was free, so mustn't grumble).<br />
<br />
It was then back for lunch, a snooze, a chat with Adrian (on t'internet, obviously), a further (last) walk around the city (still new things to discover, I found, even after being here the best part of two weeks), dinner, and now this. I'm writing like mad because someone is waiting to use the computer and I want to get this published before I go to bed.<br />
<br />
So I will say goodbye for now and be back with a report of the mountains at some point in the future.<br />
<br />
All the very best as always...<br />
<br />
Love James x(x[x])*<br />
<br />
*number of kisses depending where you come from!Sidmouthianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01614140676551279937noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7767214.post-56627605626399462842011-01-11T02:44:00.000+00:002011-01-11T02:44:55.812+00:00More waffle from SaltaBuenos noches (I'm still not really comfortable using this as a greeting [feels like more of a salutation to me {actually, are "greeting" and "salutation" one and the same thing? - I think they probably are, which makes this quadri-bracketed parenthesis utterly redundant. However, your observations (especially from the lexicographically-minded amongst you) would be appreciated}],<br />
<br />
Anyway, moving on from that lengthy aside (I think that could be a new name for this blog: "Lengthy Asides (from A Sidmouthian Abroad)"... I wonder if www.lenghtyasides.com already exists? Ooh, I've just checked and it doesn't! Wow. Excitement! Exclamation marks ahoy!!! It's got my name all over it)... Well, get a grip, Wood! I'm not in the market for websites. Back to the task at hand... It's been raining fairly solidly for the last 3 days, so that's given me plenty of time to sit on my backside doing nothing, well, apart from contemplating my navel, learning bits and pieces of Spanish (I've started reading a children's book in Spanish called something like "When the cat met God", or whatever the translation into English should be - obviously I'm reading it for it's Spanish content, rather than it's moral message [I'm relying on Beatris for that - following on from her recent kind offer], cooking, eating, going for little walks and writing this blog (intermittently). Oh, and I haven't touched a drop of wine for the last 2 days!!!!! Yes, that warrants at least 5 exclamation marks, because a) wine here is cheap (and good), b) I'm wine-lover and c) I´ve got a keen eye for a bargain (all of which makes it's flipping hard for me to resist). Well, resist I have (with the help of not setting foot inside the supermarket [actually, I lie, I was even strong enough to go to the supermarket yesterday and not put a bottle of wine in my basket!]). So, with some kind of inner-strength I didn't know I had, I'm going for a hat-trick of wine-free days before hitting the vineyards of Cafayate on Wednesday. I felt I owed it to my liver to give it a little rest mid-holiday (actually, I'm on the homeward stretch now... with less than 6 weeks to go [out of the 13 in total]), so that's what I'm doing. 3 days seems ample, don't you think? Any more and I might forget how to appreciate wine properly. And I'm sure I've got a very quickly-regenerating liver (I hope so, at least).<br />
<br />
Right, back to the day-by-day analysis of proceedings (as you can see, the cup of tea [and subsequent dinner of spicy vegetable stew - a counterpoint to all the asados I've been eating] has fully restored my blatherability and I'm back in full grandiloquent, garrulous mood. Here goes Friday:<br />
<br />
<div><br />
<b>Friday 7th November 2011</b><br />
<br />
Up with the lark (again) - if larks get up at 8am, that is - and swiftly (do you like the bird references?) back to bed again, realising that I then had the dorm to myself for a couple of hours. Lush! After 10, breakfasted (no, [I thought perhaps I could but] I just can't resist - having swallowed breakfast. Sorry [the spirit of Richard Whiteley still lives on, after all these years]) and sunscreened up, I headed out for one last wander/photograph session in and Around Tilcara, before a last luncheon (of the previous days leftovers) and my departure back to Salta. Ooh, I've just remembered that the previous day they was some kind of local carnival (lots of kiddies dressed up in costume, playing the same song (well, rhythm, actually - to call is a song is stretching it somewhat) over and over again, while walking around the streets of Tilcara - weird, but kinda scenic, I suppose). Anyway, I don't think I saw anything of particular note during my morning excursion. More rocks, more adobe houses (that's nothing to do with Photoshop or Acrobat, btw - they are sundried bricks made from riverine clay: see Picasaweb pics for details), more stray dogs (they don't have quite the "awww, help the poor ickle homeless dog" spirit that we have in animal-loving Britain), and a brilliant bright blue sky. Hooray for the sun (thinking back, it's just as well I had a few days of sun in the mountains because on average Salta has been bloody grey and dreary and today I would once again describe it as cool [low 20s today, I would guess]).<br />
<br />
Well, after my reheated pasta (I spurn your Italian scorn: I'm travelling) and another lounge in the hammock (more signs of impending hippydom [a joke, I hope - please {to paraphrase Steve Redgrave*}, if I return wearing a tie-dyed t-shirt, hand-woven baggy trousers, assorted bits of string around my wrists and ankles and a poncho, please, someone shoot me). And, worse still, if I start playing the bongos, well, I allow you to commit me to a more torturous death, which, it has to be said, would be an apt punishment), I headed to the bus station (in a swirl of dirt and dust [the wind tends to pick up in the afternoon, in Tilcara, at least, and fills the air with assorted debris... good for the wild west feel, bad for the eyes and nasal passages]).<br />
<br />
The bus was on-time leave (late arriving - bastards!), and the journey was the same scenic epic as on the way up (only on the way down this time - funny that). You'd have thought that would have made it quicker. But, no. Stops in every godforsaken little town between Jujuy and Salta and another lengthy fill-up in the Balut bus depot (one of my favourite spots so far, it must be said - not!) put the mockers on that and made it a bit of a hard-going slog. I was also feeling the effects of my limited sleep and rather-less-limited alcohol intake of the past few days. In other words, I didn't make full use of my window seat (the window was once again covered in crap anyway), but decided to get a bit of shut eye instead (especially once we had left the clear blue skies of the upper valley and descended into the tropical drizzle on the approach to Jujuy). I would have managed more sleep, but the woman behind me kept kicking my seat (she seemed to feel my decision to actually use the recline function was somehow invading her personal space... well, I've got news for you, love: if you weren't so bloody fat, there wouldn't have been a problem. Stop eating all the asados/ empanadas/ milanesas/ facturas/ alfajores/ ice-cream/ lard and let sleeping Brits lie!).<br />
<br />
In the end, we made it into Salta (an hour late... making it a near-five hour journey, for a distance of little over 200km. Jeez). I was met at the bus station by the Salteña girlfriend of the German guy from the hostel. This wasn't arranged, but a welcoming kiss is always appreciated! It turns out that she works for a different hostel, trying to get people to stay there. Slightly odd, considering she's shacked up with someone at a totally different hostel. Still, work's work, I suppose.<br />
<br />
I walked to the hostel (more taxi-fare-avoiding-thrift), and was hoping to have a quiet evening and an early night! Ha! No such luck! The hostel was much busier than my previous stay earlier in the week and that evening they were having an asado with people from the twin hostel in the centre of town. Well, I was a bit reluctant to join in at first (wine was included in the price, and I didn't know if I could handle it!)... but in the end I bit the bullet and joined in the merriment. And I'm really glad I did. Not only did I meet some more lovely people (including an Australian couple, who were doing very well to endear themselves to me... until they mentioned "the mission", that is!), but the asado was one of the best I have eaten so far (supplemented with grilled vegetables and a lovely salad, for us veggie-loving non-Argentinians, I suppose). All in all it was a very nice evening, and I was self-disciplined enough to limit the wine intake to a few glasses and go to bed at a reasonable hour (2ish) instead of hitting the nite-spots of Salta at pace (like a lot of the others).<br />
<br />
*and we all know what didn't, but should've, happened to Steve Redgrave, as soon as he got back in a boat, don't we? (and, well, if you don't, er, I won't go into all the details... all I'll say is that he kindly gave us permission to shoot him, that's all - and instead of taking him up on the offer, he became a national hero instead. Grrr...).<br />
<br />
<b><br />
Saturday 8th January 2011</b><br />
<br />
In the morning I was glad for the early night, as I woke up at 11am, feeling the freshest I had for days! Whoop. The smallest pleasures are the best! I proceeded to get into conversation with a handful of the nicest Argentinians I have met so far (and that is saying something!). I had had a brief chat with Cecilia (an English teacher from B.A.) the night before, but had further (extended) chats with her and her friends (Ana and Esteban) for about 4 hours solid during the day on Saturday. It was just a shame they had to leave later in the day (off to Chile and Peru), because we just clicked and it was lovely speaking to them (oh and the weather had been quite good in Salta up until that point - we had been able to sit outside the previous evening and much of the day on Saturday). Still, hopefully I'll be able to meet up with them in Buenos Aires later in my travels.<br />
<br />
The rest of Saturday proceeded at a leisurely pace. I went for a wander, culminating in a supermarket shop-up. This was the last day when I gave into temptation (well, I'm sure it won't be THE last) and purchased wine. I went for a 6 peso bottle (the cheapest yet - I've been working my way down from about 20 pesos, just to see how bad it gets), perhaps subconsciously hoping that it would be undrinkable and I'd have to use it for cooking (or tip it down the sink [hmm... that's just a turn of phrase, actually. You know that would never happen in the Wood household {or to a member thereof}]). Well, when I got back to the hostel, Christophe (the German) said it was disgusting and that the last time he drank it, it gave him a terrible headache the next day (who said the Germans were direct?!). Well, what could I do but put the theory to test. I opened her up (it was a girl - simple and a bit cheap), and took a swig (no refined swilling and supping for wine that cost a quid). And what can I say? Well, I've had far, far worse. It didn't have much character (or body), but was perfectly drinkable in an uncomplicated sort of way. Christophe was surprised by my reaction and decided to give it (her) another go. Well, maybe he had had a dodgy bottle before, because he certainly didn't seem to mind it (her) this time (thankfully helping me to avoid drinking the whole bottle). Perhaps it (she) tasted better for him this time because it (she) was free! ;-)<br />
<br />
Well, such moderate wine-drinking was followed by a moderately early night (around 1am, I believe), which is just as well, as from around 8pm onwards the heavens opened (or maybe it was just precipitation resulting<br />
from a build-up of cumulus and cumulonimbus clouds) and it absolutely tipped it down, thus soaking anyone who had dared venture from the (relative) dryness of the hostel. And it's barely stopped since. Actually, that's another lie (or Wood exaggeration), but during Saturday night there were some incredible thunderstorms (the whole building shook at times) and it has rained on and off (without seeing a glimmer of sun) ever since. And talk about humidity! Everything feels damp, the salt has caked together into an, er, salt-cake, and my sink-rinsed smalls are taking forever to dry! But at least it's different (and not really cold), so then you don't mind as much, do you.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Sunday 9th January 2011</b><br />
<br />
We're certainly getting closer to being up-to-date now. I'm going to keep going until midnight, in the hope that by then I'll actually be writing this in (close to) real-time.<br />
<br />
So, what of Sunday? Well, it rained nearly all morning (and into the afternoon), giving me the chance to do assorted internettery and Skype Ma and Pa. A leisurely lunch followed (everything has been leisurely the last few days! A post-Tilcara stupor, pehaps), and then a leisurely walk out to the Feria Artisanal. I wasn't really interested in the Feria itself (it's just another tat market, basically), but thought the walk itself would be interesting (it's a couple of kilometres from the hostel, on the outskirts(ish) of town). Well, interesting it was, as at about half distance the housing becomes decidedly more shabby (concrete blocks on stilts, anyone?) and the streets possess a decidedly more edgy feel. Okay, so I felt a bit uncomfortable, truth be told, but I think the effect was amplified by the fact that it was during siesta-time on a Sunday afternoon, and the eerie quietness, gave the feeling of someone lurking around the corner, waiting to mug you. To be fair, Salta, as a rule, feels really safe (much more so that B.A., for example [although I guess you generally feel more comfortable once you have been in a place for a while]), with police on every street corner (apart from the 2km I walked on Sunday, that is!), and a generally relaxed, easy-going feel. Oh, but on this particular afternoon I was once again asked the time (las cinco menos cinco - an easy one!), so at least one person thought "who's this strange foreign-looking chap walking in a dodgy area of town on a Sunday afternoon".<br />
<br />
Well, it was worth the walk, actually. The Feria is housed in an interesting old colonial building (a former estate complex of some kind), with portico(e)s and internal courtyards and loads of tropical trees and plants all around. It was a shame it was cloudy (and spitting with rain) because the photos would have looked nicer with a blue sky, but there you go, you can't have everything. At least it wasn't Portugal at Christmas! ;-) In fact, my timing was just about perfect, because just as I got back to the hostel (after an extension loop via the centre/north of town and the supermarket [no wine! A Wood first!!!]) the great hosepipe/sprinkler in the sky was once again switched on and Salta was drenched (Christope remarked how poor their drainage is, as the roads tend to flood as soon as a bit of water touches the tarmac).<br />
<br />
It was another quiet evening at the hostel. I practiced a bit of French with a couple of lesbians, ate the most enormous rice salad ever constructed (exaggerate, moi?), and went to bed at midnight (I'll be back to normal by Wednesday at this rate!)...<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Monday 10th January 2011</b><br />
<br />
...but (or possibly because of the unusually early night) I went on to have the weirdest night ever. Admittedly the hostel was quite noisy (a group of 11 Porteño friends had arrived at the hostel earlier in the evening), but I kept waking up, had a couple of nightmares (including one where I lashed out with my arm as a result and knocked an empty plastic bottle off the bedside table and onto the floor) and generally felt most unsettled. I was wearing earplugs and could sort of hear some noise through them (but the muffled quality led to an air of mystery: is that someone knocking on the door? In fact, it was; is that someone climbing into the bunk above me? Actually, it wasn't; that kind of thing). Luckily things had quietened down by morning and I got a good solid four hours from 6 to 10am, so I haven't felt too bad today.<br />
</div><div>However, I haven't exactly exerted myself. Indeed, I've devoted most of the day to blog writing (as you can probably tell from the extensive missives popping up like virtual mushrooms). The weather has once again been shit (and COLD - I've needed jeans and a jumper) and so I felt more inclined to stay indoors and catch up with stuff like this (as well as a bit of Spanish revision, hostel booking in Cafayate and the usual cooking-eating-washing triumvirate of necessities). Oh, and thinking of necessities, you'll be pleased to hear that my bowels are in perfect working order (touch wood), and have been as regular as (Swiss) clockwork (I'm thinking of you, Adrian, as I write this!).<br />
<br />
Well, it is fast approaching midnight and I don't wish to turn into a pumpkin. I do wish, however, that the noisy Porteños would quieten down a bit and let me have an uniterrupted night's sleep. This is rather unlikely however, as unlike my previous 6 nights in the hostel (prior to going to Tilcara), I now have a full dorm of 4 people, which will doubtless lead to a certain number of interruptions. Well, I've got no pressing engagments tomorrow (I'd like to go to the Modern Art Gallery and need to get a bus ticket for Cafayate, but that's about it), so if needs be, I can sleep well into the day (and/or take a protracted siesta), and with that relaxing thought in mind I am going to sign off now and head off to bed.<br />
<br />
I'm up-to-date. Yippee. Three cheers for me. Hip hip...<br />
<br />
Good night, sleep tight, and don't even mention bed bugs, because I'm staying in a hostel.<br />
<br />
Best wishes,<br />
Love J xx<br />
<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px;"><br />
</span></span></div></div>Sidmouthianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01614140676551279937noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7767214.post-41931224151189839032011-01-10T22:01:00.000+00:002011-01-10T22:01:24.087+00:00The Tilcara Chronicles, Continued...Hello again,<br />
<br />
As promised, I'm back for more bloggery-pokery. It's taken me a while to get on a computer (a group of 11 Argentinian youngsters have taken over the hostel)... So let's just cut the crap and start up where I left off yesterday:<br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
<b>Wednesday 5th January 2011</b><br />
<br />
I don't know how they do it, but Argentinians seem able to survive on 4 hours sleep a night. At least, they do when they are on holiday. So, despite going to bed sometime after 4, there was movement in the dorm from 8am onwards! Grrr... Still, I managed to resist the call to the toilet until nearly 10am, which was a victory of sorts. Me and my bladder! ;-) And, well, getting up wasn't made any easier by the persistant drizzle that was falling immediately outside the dorm (which opened directly onto the courtyard). And bejeezus, it was freezing (again, not literally, but I swear it must have dropped below 10 degrees, which for summer near the tropics, is rather nippy). So, anyway, I manage to cross the courtyard to the kitchen, where I find coffee waiting for me, which was much needed, as my tongue was a little bit furry and my head a little bit muzzy. I wonder why that should be? Could it be the drying effects of the mountain air? The lack of sleep? The Fernet consumption? I'm plumping for a combination of all 3...<br />
<br />
Well, with said coffee in hand, I sit down at the breakfast table (among the crumbs and the flies - cleanliness is not one of the hostel's strong points), and start chatting to the guy (from Buenos Aires) who was already sitting there (why am I mixing the present and past continuous I wonder? Hmm - it must be a subconscious narrative device, in order to recreate the slight feeling of disorientation that comes with a hangover!!!). Anyway, there I was chatting away in Spanish, without self-conciousness, without too many pauses (that usually come whenever I'm hopelessly searching for the right word), and without misunderstanding the majority of what was said to me. I must have still been a little bit "under the influence" (after all, we all know that alcohol is a wonderful social lubricant, especially when dealing with a foreign language). Well, whatever it was, it felt good to be able to converse in Spanish, and I was thus motivated to spend the rest of the day thus, drinking tea and coffee and chatting away with all and sundry about the joys of the weather (maximum 12 degrees, rain on and off all day... could well be Sidmouth in the middle of winter!), the joys the United Kingdom (which seem easier to identify so far from home!), and the joys of travelling (which principally revolve around meeting such lovely people). What a hippy I've become! All positivity and light! The next thing you know I'll start enjoying the Folk Festival!!! [maybe it's just that Spanish is a more joyful language than English?]<br />
<br />
The funniest thing (and most frequent topic of debate), was that everyone from Buenos Aires was convinced that the north-west would be boiling hot in summer (not taking into account the altitude and fact that it's the wet season). Therefore, they had all brought flimsy clothes, flip-flops and a soupcon of naivety with them to the mountains. Most of them were forced to wear their entire wardrobe (me included, actually - although I was unable to put on all 5 pairs of shoes!), or, in the case of one couple, get the bus to Bolivia in order to buy some cheap winter clothes there (actually, they found that they couldn't even wait that long... first they were forced to head to the local market in order to buy hats and gloves, in order to stave off hypothermia and survive the bus trip across the border!). I have to confess that even I (meteorology nerd and general know-it-all) didn't think that it would be quite <i>that </i>cold!<br />
<br />
It was mid-afternoon before I left the hostel, and that was a fairly brief affair (in between showers), to purchase accompanying foodstuffs and wine for the evening's barbecued pig (well, part thereof - it was one hind quarter to be precise) extravaganza. It seemed like a good idea to join in the fun (everyone had been so sociable so far it would have seemed churlish to organise my own grub). But what a mistake that turned out to be!<br />
<br />
We opened the wine at around 10pm, figuring that the pig had been cooking for over 2 hours and that a little aperitif would be nice before dinner. And it was, for the first hour or so...<br />
<br />
... but 11pm came and went and still the pig wasn't cooked. The hands on my watch ticked on and on (they say a watched pot never boils... well, maybe watching a pig on a barbecue has a similar effect!). We waited and waited... getting hungrier and hungrier... the acid building in the stomach (red wine has that effect on me when it's not accompanied by food)... the irritability building all around. Come 2am (I joke you not) I started to become desperate. I had already eaten 4 bread rolls and half a packet of greasy crisps to stave off the hunger pangs. But it was just no good. I was going to have to take action. So, fork in hand, I jumped up from my seat, and headed over to the action. Thrusting the fork forward, I stabbed it into the potato salad and started eating it straight from the salad bowl. There was no other option left available to me. If I hadn't loaded forkful upon forkful of (crunchy) potato (even they weren't flippin' cooked), egg (thankfully they were cooked) and mayonnaise (from a large, squeezy plastic sachet thing, as is the norm here) into my mouth, I swear I would have either a) passed out or b) committed some kind of porcine attrocity. Thanks to the potato salad, the pig survived and my irritability diminished...<br />
<br />
... feeling partially sated, I decided to give it a further 30 minutes, just in case some kind of "pigs-might-fly/pigs-might-be-cooked"-style miracle came about, but what with God being a muslim and all (according to, er, well, I'm not sure who actually, and please don't send me hate-mail as a result of this little joke, I don't wish to get myself into the same pickle as the now infamous Danish newspaper, so let's just forget I said anything about it, shall we?) - perhaps it just wasn't meant to be! The bloody pig (literally - it <i>was </i>still raw in the middle, after all) was never going to be cooked, and sometime after 2:30am I gave up waiting and went to bed...<br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
<b>Thursday 6th January 2011</b><br />
<br />
... for a while, at any rate! It was another early start (do people have <i>so </i>much to do on holiday that they need to get up at 8am?)... and all we wanted to know was: did anyone survive until pork was on their plates (ooh, that has the ring of a nice new idiom, don't you think)? Well, (I can almost sense how much your breath is baited), the answer is: YES! At some time just after 3am, with people hallucinating from hunger, banging their cutlery on the table and chanting like they were part of some bizarre food-deprived cult (maybe this was just in my food-starved dreams!) the edges of the pig were carved and served to the famished, leaving a bloody middle for the vultures and the dogs (i..e anyone who decided to raid the fridge in the middle of the night)! It only turns out that they tried to cook the pig from frozen. Qué boludos!!! Cami - even you know that you can't cook a pig from frozen (don't you?) ;-)<br />
<br />
Well, despite the lack of sleep, the combination of a lack of food and a reduced intake of alcohol had somehow put a spring in my step (it could be a new diet in the making... perhaps I should contact the Daily Mail). Anyway, I was bouncing around like a veritable space-hopper (well, I'm exaggerating a touch, perhaps [<i>exaggeration-proneness</i> is<i> </i>a genetic condition, after all], but at least I didn't feel totally knackered like the day before), so I decided to put the energy to good use and head out to take some photos. It was a glorious sunny morning (a bit too <i>bright</i>, actually). Tilcara looked lovely, in a dusty, weather-beaten kind of way. The rocks all around heaved skyward in various different poses (and hues), and all was rather lovely, actually.<br />
<br />
As the heat of the day increased, I retired to the fly-filled sanctuary of the hostel, to cook some lunch (<i>pasta alla mosca</i>, anyone? Unfortunately there was no oven, otherwise I would have been tempted to cook Garibaldi biscuits! No need for any raisins!!!) and fortify myself for the afternoon's planned trek. A quick post-prandial snooze in the hammock followed (much more comfortable than the structureless foam-matress bunks), and I was all set. Suncream? Check. Two litres of water? Check. Wetwipes? Check. First aid kit? Check. Waterproof? Check. Fleece? Check. Spanish dictionary? Check. Mobile phone? Check. Nail clippers? Check. Dental floss? Check. I was ready for anything!<br />
<br />
And what a lovely walk it was. Reasonably strenuous (on the way up at least) as the altitude must have ranged from two and half to three and a bit thousand metres. I took in the Garganta del Diabolo waterfalls, a lot of rocks and cacti and a remote farmstead/village, in a valley, high up in the mountains. Gorge(ous)! Once I got past the waterfalls there wasn't another tourist in sight. Just a woman and her goats (she looked approximately 206, but was probably only in her 30s - I guess that's what happens under intense mountain sunshine, although I'm not sure that explains the broken teeth) and another woman and her donkeys. She was bow-legged and laden with a fuschia-pink carry-sack (for want of a better description) and thus very photogenic. Indeed, it was all very picturesque/awesome (the original sense of the word, that is - I don't just mean fine/okayish in an American-stylee). I know, I could have used awe-inspiring instead, but I just want "awesome" to return to it's previous meaning. Please! C'mon dude, that would be just awesome, dontchathink?<br />
<br />
Oh, forgot to say. At one point the sky turned black and thunder cracked all around. It was quite exciting in an apocalyptic-kind-of-way. Heavy drops of rain started to fall, and I thought: "shit, why did I decide to sramble down this ravine to take photos of a trickle of water?". Hmm... that'll be the Ashford genes, that will! ;-) Anyway, the rain didn't come to anything (phew) and the scramble back up was actually easier than the scramble down (luckily the Yvonne genes are equally strong and equip me with a sense of anxiety that prevent me from doing anything too gung-ho/kamikaze). So, in the words of the now infamous Lanzarote-returnees: I survived!<br />
<br />
Nonetheless, I was rather tired when I got back (hence the haggard-looking photos), but still, I gallantly got into the social swing of things back at the hostel. This evening was all about redemption. After the big pig debacle of the night before, it was the turn of calzone (big knickers [i.e. a cross between a pizza and a pasty for those not in the know]) to make or break the hostel's culinary reputation. And well, whilst there won't be any Michelin stars flying around Tilcara anytime in the near future, it was a definite improvement on the night before. I actually had something warm to eat, for a start (!), and I have to say, despite a slight lack of salt, it wasn't a bad effort. It was washed down, as ever, with a nice drop of red, and, all told, the evening was a thoroughly pleasant one (although it ended somewhat prematurely [approx 1:30am] on my part, when I decided that at the age of 33 I was just too old to have a third successive 4-hour night's sleep, and thus called it quits while the others headed out to dance the night away).<br />
<br />
Well, once again I have waffled on and on and on (and on [and on]), so I've exhausted myself prematurely. I therefore can't bring myself to write about Friday just yet. That will have to wait for a return of the energy and inspiration that preceeded this e-mail (and quickly petered out)... I need a cup of tea (yes, sadly, the inferior continental muck that we have to make do with outside of our blessed isles... but, you know, what can you do?)!<br />
<br />
Until then, I will bid you farewell. By the way, thank you to those (few) of you who have updated me with your news. It is very much appreciated! :-) And to those of you that haven't, well... [insert disappointed silence for the length of time you feel is appropriate {quite long in some cases, I would imagine}]... I hope you feel suitably chastened and thus will be spurred into action. Come on you lazy buggers, if you're sufficiently un-busy to read this, then you're sufficiently un-busy to write me a quick e-mail. I thank you (in anticipation).<br />
<br />
Take care dear friends (and people I don't even know, perhaps [looking at the stats, there must be some strangers reading this as I don't even have that many friends... well, unless you count Facebook, that is, which as we all know, doesn't really count in the friend-counting department].<br />
<br />
Bye bye, adios, cheerio...<br />
James xxSidmouthianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01614140676551279937noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7767214.post-26613688181070337782011-01-10T02:27:00.005+00:002011-01-10T02:32:23.901+00:00Tilcara, the Quebrada de Humahuaca and lots of bracketsGood evening peeps,<br />
<br />
I've been attempting to write this for the last couple of days, but without much success so far (distractions have included photographic uploads: www.picasaweb.google.com/sidmouth12, catching up with internet fripperies (such as the news and banking), (many) friendly people to chat to, food to cook and eat, wine to drink and thumbs to twiddle. I'm going to attempt at least a couple of days tonight before heading off to bed, so here goes:<br />
<br />
<b>Tuesday 4th January 2011</b><br />
<br />
It was up early(ish) and out of the hostel to get the bus. It was a stinking hot morning in Salta and so the trudge to the bus station was a particularly sweaty one (naturally I could have got a taxi, but thrift prevailed! What's a bit of a sweaty t-shirt between fellow passengers?!). The bus (Balut) was rather older and dirtier than the ones I had previously been used to, and I didn't get a window seat, so was thwarted in that respect (I was a little bit miffed, but probably didn't feel quite as hard-done-by as Dad does when failing to get a front seat on the way into Exeter [or on the X53] - and I had to actually <i>pay </i>for my ticket!!!). The start of the journey was a bit hard-going: not that much to see (especially from the aisle seat), slightly uncomfortable seats and a crowded bus (am I reaching the point of exhaustion with long-distance travel? I guess it's not quite as exciting as it was in the beginning...). I was also surrounded by a group of Argentinian hippies, two of whom insisted on groping each other right next to me. My delicate British sensibilities in that regard were well and truly offended!!!<br />
<br />
Still, things improved once we got past Jujuy (and a 20 minute petrol refill in the very third-world-feeling Balut Bus Depot). The landscape started off as nobbly green hills (lush and jungly), but as we ascended into the mountains, the landscape dried out and the colours started going from brown to red to purple and back again, and every combination in between. I also got a window seat once we were past Pumamarca (stunning 7 colour mountain, btw), so was able to get some good shots of colourful rocks from the window. Unfortunately, the window was so dirty, the photos look soft-focus (vaseline smeared on the lens for that romantic effect!). But you can get the gist from the countless photos here: http://picasaweb.google.com/sidmouth12/TilcaraAndAround#<br />
<br />
We arrived in Tilcara on time (the distance isn't actually that far from Salta, but the mountain roads are damn slow... and I thought we were going to be late because we were held up for ages in a town that was obviously on the route of the Dakar rally [note to Dad - I keep forgetting to mention this, but I'm sure you'll be interested - if you happen to see any highlights, look out in particular for the stage between San Miguel de Tucumán and San Salvador de Jujuy, because that was the section I crossed in the bus], so there were a lot of support vehicles and spectators holding things up!), and, anyway it seemed a nice, small, dusty little town... which, handily, also serves as a description of the hostel. Burrito hostel was easy to find (a five minute walk up the main street from the bus station), and certainly had character (i.e. pokiness, grubbiness and and loads of flies). It was a bit basic (and not that cheap at 50 pesos) but seemed friendly enough. I dumped my stuff and headed out to explore. I had decided to make the most of the sunny afternoon because the forecast for the following days was duff, to say the least. It was amazing actually, because there were clouds encircling Tilcara (up the valley and down, on the mountains, all around...) but none directly overhead. Yay for that.<br />
<br />
Anyway, I stumbled across the Pucara (pre-inca fortress thingy), more or less by accident (although I had a rough idea that was the direction I was heading in). It was dazzlingly bright in the thin mountain air (Tilcara is nearly 2500 metres above sea level) and quite hot too (at least in the sun). It cost 10 pesos to go in the Pucara, but was well worth it! There was also a Botanical Garden attached, which was mainly devoted to Cacti (including the amazing giant "cardóns", that look like they were designed for the set of a western and are absolutely everywhere here). However, there were also a few "exotics", such as borage (!) and other European herbs!!!<br />
<br />
After the Botanical Garden it was on to the Pucara itself, which is much bigger than I expected and in part has been painstakingly restored by archaeologists from the University of Buenos Aires. It's certainly an impressive site/sight and the views all around were stunning. The reconstructed "houses" were interesting... and revealed that there must once have been a sizeable community living there at one time (hundreds/thousands of years ago - you know I'm not all that up on my history). There is also a slightly unfortunate modern "pyramid" at the very top of the site, dedicated to the archaeologist who carried out a lot of the original work on the site. Which is weird, as it doesn't really fit with the rest of the site. Actually, there seems to be a bit of a tendency to concrete over things here in Argentina. I guess that is the curse of the New World. But still, it's a beautiful place, and the number of photos I took is testament to that. I've already mentioned picasa twice this update, so I won't bore you with the details yet again. If you're interested you know where to look.<br />
<br />
Upon my return to the hostel, the number of people had increased dramatically (from just me [when I arrived] to a good dozen or so). (Argentinian) Spanish voices abounded and at first I felt a bit out of place and wasn't sure where to put myself (it's [usually] easy enough to strike up conversation if you've got something to "do", like cooking or arranging stuff in the dorm or offering wine, etc., but rather more difficult if people are just sitting down, already talking to each other [especially when it's in another language]). I decided to make myself a cup of tea (how very British), and just sit down among the people sat in the courtyard and see what happened. At first I felt a bit ridiculous... just evesdropping on Spanish conversations that I couldn't really understand, while supping from my cup. But I was soon offered <i>mate </i>and things progressed from there... (and no, that does not mean romantically... it just means that I was accepted into the group, as if I wasn't the stranger that I am). That's the great thing about Argentina... the people are so friendly that incredibly soon after meeting they are all chatting away, as if they have been friends for years. At first I thought eveyone knew each other, but I later realised the larger group was made up of several disperate smaller groups. And soon I was a part of that.<br />
<br />
There was also a fellow non-Argentinian among the crowd. Kieran from Ireland was a thoroughly nice chap, and a welcome break from the intensive Spanish course that was underway! Of particular note were a really nice couple from Buenos Aires, about my age, and with very good English to boot (again very welcome when I was struggling to find the right words in Spanish). Anyway, the evening progressed fluidly from there. We ended up all going out together...<br />
<br />
The first port of call was La Peña del Norte, which (like all Peñas) is a folk-music-venue-come-bar-come-restaurant. We ate and drank wine (a very nice 2005 Malbec from Cafayate - pushing the boat out at 40 pesos a bottle). I had a tamale (meaty thing steamed in sweetcorn husk) followed by a llama stew, which was interesting, if a little tough. The company was great (a table of 17: me, Kieran and a selection of people from all over Argentina, including a Korean chap from Cordóba) and the conversation and drink flowed... so much so that I didn't take too much encouragement to get up and dance (and after the initial embarrassment, I really enjoyed it!).<br />
<br />
We progressed to a second Peña, down by the river, on the edge of the village - through a couple of fields, over a couple of brooks (in the dark) and thus very atmospherically located (under a sky of scintillating stars). It was lovely. And was able to put my usual aversion to panpipes to one side and enjoy the local folk music whole-heartedly (I didn't even mind that after a while every song started to sound the same - obviously spirits were high!). Talking of spirits, we moved from wine onto Fernet and coke, and more dancing ensued. It was a lot of fun... although I think I perhaps drank a little bit <i>too </i>much Fernet (it's just too easy to drink! Yup, let's blame the drink, rather than my lack of self-control!). Anyway, I managed not to embarrass myself too much (apart from ludicrous dancing - but at least I wasn't the only one!), although I did manage to step in one of the brooks on the way back and got a shoe covered in mud! ;-) Still, it was a great evening, and a fitting ending to a memorable first day in the mountains.<br />
<br />
Well, it's taken me much longer to write about the first day in the Quebrada than I thought it would and there are people waiting to use the computer. So, I had better leave it there for now and return tomorrow with news of the rain and hangover that were to follow...<br />
<br />
Hope you are all well.<br />
<br />
Lots of love,<br />
James xxSidmouthianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01614140676551279937noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7767214.post-72499497200837777202011-01-04T02:59:00.000+00:002011-01-04T02:59:08.785+00:00Salta "la linda" (no, not the long-legged variety - it means beautiful in Spanish)Good evening,<br />
<br />
I hope all is well with each and every one of you (i.e. the 3 people who read this). It's time for a quick update, but I'm not feeling very inspired, and haven't actually done all that much recently, so this will probably be quite short compared to my usual standards. I left you last on New Year's Eve, prior to the festivities commencing, so before I get back to that, I should once again wish you HAPPY NEW YEAR (this time on the right side of the year divide). And thus I can continue...<br />
<br />
<strong>Friday 31st December 2010 continued...</strong><br />
<br />
The evening was rather a strange one, all told (as is often the case with New Year's Eve). This was mainly due to the combination of people, and the fact that most of the evening was conducted in Spanish (preventing me from being my usual loquacious self). I mean, it's wrong to begrudge people the right to speak their own language in their own country... and, of course, I don't... it just meant that my enjoyment was reduced slightly (as I couldn't relax fully and I used all my effort to try and keep up with the conversation - which ultimately I wasn't even all that interested in), that's all. Actually, it's probably not about the language at all (I mean, I managed perfectly well with Oscar and Andres, and our shared common language ground is minimal), it's just a question of human relationships (or the lack their of) and my own mood. So, despite drinking a reasonable amount, I never really "got into the spirit" of the evening, and it ended up being just a nice, pleasant (and thus slightly boring) kind of evening. <br />
<br />
Anyway, the details: we made homemade empanadas (which was interesting in itself - little shop-bought pastry circles, filled with a spicy chicken or beef filling, and served with a spicy salsa), but they were deep-fried and, whilst very tasty, they laid heavy on the stomach and have probably added an extra kilo to the already growing weight gain (watch out chairs!!!). ;-) I also drank <em>fantin</em> (red wine and Fanta) for the first time, which was eminently drinkable (too drinkable?) but added to the sensation of piling empty calories into an already over-stuffed body! It didn't help that the bloke making the empanadas was the size of a small bus! Each time I ate one I looked at him and saw myself approaching my ultimate destiny! We moved from fantin to <em>vino y coca</em> and ultimately <em>fernet</em>, but it was no use, I just wasn't in the mood! I declined the offer of a post-party <em>boliche </em>(night-club), and instead stayed up chatting for a while and then went to bed at 4am (ridiculously early for Argentina - sorry folks!). I even read before sleeping, that's how much of an "un-party-mood" I felt in!<br />
<br />
<strong>Saturday 1st January 2011</strong><br />
<br />
The year started later than usual... with a nice long lie-in. I think my mood had improved, though... with the feeling that Christmas and New Year was over with for another year (the Wood family isn't big on the old "festive season"). Still, I was almost instantly faced with a new challenge...<br />
<br />
I had briefly chatted to a young, friendly (if slightly over-earnest and rather too intense) Dutch man the previous evening. He was travelling alone in South America and was clearly starting to feel a bit jaded by the whole experience. He was looking for someone to go travelling with and clearly thought I was a suitable candidate. I, trying to be friendly, said that maybe we could travel together for a bit, but it was a tentative offer at best, and I wasn't prepared for our first meeting of the day on Saturday. He had spent the whole morning at various travel agents (after God knows how little sleep), trying to devise a plan for us to follow. Ah! He came back with the offer of a 400 peso, 2 night trip, visiting Cachi and Cafayate, sharing transport with a French couple he had met in one of the travel agents... and there was me thinking that we might get the same bus somewhere and then review our options. Hmmm... So, I spend the next few hours trying to work out how to let him down gently. I mean, I had plenty of decent excuses (I'm hoping to go to Cachi and Cafayate with Cami, when she arrives up north, after all... and I've got much more time than him... and I think two introspective, over-anxious worriers is a recipe for disaster!), but he had the look of an abused dog (all big eyes and on-the-verge-of-crying intensity), and I found it very difficult to adminster the kick that destroyed the last ounce of "travelling-alone-confidence" that he possessed. Err... what to do?<br />
<br />
Well, in the end, I was given a deadline. He had arranged to meet the French couple at 7pm and needed to know by then what I intended to do. I managed to pluck up the courage to say that I wouldn't be travelling with them, but still offered to go to the travel agents with him/them, just as a bit of an outing on an otherwise very quiet day (everything in Salta was closed on New Year's Day and it was rather like a ghost town).<br />
<br />
And I I'm glad I did... for it was a very "interesting" experience. I don't think I've met such a rude person as the travel agent since <em>that</em> woman in San Luis, but by God (shit, more God references!), he was arrogant beyond belief and yet without an ounce of charm. I guess he knew he was one of the only travel agents open on New Year's Day and thus knew full well that their options were limited. He had them overa barrel! But, still, he must have been suffereing from one hell of a hangover to exhibit such pure contempt for his customers (and fellow human beings!). I was jolly glad I wasn't paying for his services, that's all I can say!<br />
<br />
Still, they booked the trip nonetheless and we walked back the hostel, hoping to find a shop open en route. Hmm... not only had it started pissing down with rain (as has been the evening ritual in Salta so far), but everywhere was closed, there was hardly a soul on the street, and Salta had taken on the air of Sidmouth during a winter storm: empty, somewhat forlorn, and rather melancholy. In other words, totally different to the run-up to New Year, when it was bustling with activity (which, aside from the Folk Festival, never happens in Sidmouth!).<br />
<br />
Luckily, given the previous day's 3 for 2 wine offer, I still had supplies in stock and was able to offer Martijn wine, if little in the way of food. I guess I felt a bit guilty about letting him down in the travel companion department, and thought I could paper over the cracks with the offer of food and wine (albeit rather limited in the food department)! However, all was not lost, food-wise, as Christophe (German guy, virtual resident of the hostel, local "girlfriend" in tow), offered us some pasta and I was able to cobble together pasta with peppers and tomato and a potato salad accompaniement, which actually turned out rather well. The evening was also boosted by the appearance of Hidde and Ynama, a very nice couple from The Netherlands, who I spent the evening chatting to. Fun times (again revealing how important personal rapport is whilst travelling)! <br />
<br />
<strong>Sunday 2nd January 2011</strong><br />
<br />
Another quiet day in Salta. Once again the town was empty... I guess people were still recovering from a raucous NY'sE. But it was quite nice in a ultra-relaxed kind of way. I spend the day wandering around, taking photos, relaxing at the hostel, reading, cooking, having a siesta, more reading (almost finished two books in less than a week... good going for me!). It was nice, but I was glad to have Hidde and Ynama's company in the evening (I was going to have a booze-free night (which would have been the first for a long while), but ended up sharing the last remaining bottle with Hidde, which was nice). I have basically come to realise that I can only truly enjoy my own company if I have the sea and a beach (or a lake or river, at the very least) close at hand. Otherwise, after a while, I don't really know what to do with myself. Wandering around an inland city starts to pall after a while (without company to enjoy it with, at least). There, I'm a product of my environment, after all, and I can't really escape the watery wonders of Devon, as much as try! ;-) Still, I must remember that the sea in Devon at this time of year is brown and grey and cold and uninviting, and it's still better to be inland in Argentina, with light, balmy evenings, and cheap wine and good meat and the thrill of a new culture to explore and new people to meet, just around the corner... Oh, and the weather was much better today, so the sun shone for most of it and the rain failed to materialise at 5pm, as had been the habit of the last few days. I should count myself (very) lucky, shouldn't I?<br />
<br />
<strong>Monday 3rd January 2011</strong><br />
<br />
Hidde and Ynama headed off in the morning (adventurously hiring a car for a few days and preparing to go camping in the mountains!), and once again the hostel was almost empty. The weather was still good though, and it is definitely warming up a degree or two (approaching 30 once again, I would guess). Thus, the day was set fair for lounging and wandering, and proceeded in much the same fashion as the day before. A big lunch, a siesta, reading my book, wandering around town...<br />
<br />
I also had a nice chat with Mum and Dad and failed attempts to chat with Michelle/Adam and Adrian (and thus ended up feeling a bit guilty that I cut Mum and Dad a bit short!). I generally spent the day feeling a bit "flat" and thus started to get the feeling I was nearing the end of phase one here in Salta. I felt that I needed to do something else, or I risked getting bored and would stop enjoying being here. So, in the end, after much deliberation (God, I'm indecisive), I booked my bus to Tilcara (in the Quebrada de Humahuaca) for tomorrow, and plan to spend a few days there (or thereabouts) before returning to Salta once more.<br />
<br />
I have to say I've really liked the hostel (San Jorge) here in Salta... and will be returning, for sure. It's really relaxed and friendly (and spacious and airy, especially being as quiet as it is), the breakfast is good and the place generally has a good feeling/atmosphere. Typically, as I type this, more nice people have arrived, this time a Swiss couple from near to Verbier (and hence common ground to talk about!). Oh, well, decision made, I will have to stick to it!<br />
<br />
Oh yes, I forgot to say, Martijn (the Dutch guy) returned from his tour with the French couple (a great success by all accounts) and again made me feel a bit uncomfortable for having decided not to travel with him! I couldn't mention it to Mum and Dad on Skype because he was loitering in the background. Anyway, I feel a bit guilty for bad-mouthing him... It's just a bit of a shame, really... because I'm sure he's a nice person (and his English is very good), but my sensitive side just sees unhappiness lurking within him and therefore I can't really feel relaxed in his company. Well, I saw him off at the bus station anyway (after going for a bit of a wander with him around the city) and breathed a bit of a sigh of relief for deciding not to travel with him. Sometimes you've got to go with gut instincts, and this was definitely one of these times.<br />
<br />
Anyway, the day has ended on a very good note. I bought another great steak (which was once again expertly cooked [by some fluke or other], and served with a red-wine jus [in order to prevent me drinking the whole bottle]). Mmmm... Still, I drank the best part of the rest of the bottle and thus feel a little bit tipsy (well, drunk) typing this, so please excuse anything that doesn't make s(h)ense!!!<br />
<br />
Well, I will leave it there for now. I've got to be up reasonably early tomorrow, so I had better head off to bed for a relatively early night. I should be back with a report from my latest travels at the weekend. I'll look forward to hearing from you then (perhaps).<br />
<br />
Best wishes to you all...<br />
<br />
Love James xxSidmouthianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01614140676551279937noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7767214.post-14399480631828015852010-12-31T22:16:00.000+00:002010-12-31T22:16:03.624+00:00After the rain...Good evening,<br />
<br />
Welcome to the last blog post of 2010. For some of you it will already be next year, for others it will still be this year and you will just be gearing up for the celebrations to begin in earnest (a special shout out to Mum and Dad at this point, who I know will be partying in raucous fashion)!<br />
<br />
I have just got up after a siesta and feel a bit dimwitted as a result ("and how is that different from usual?" I can hear some of you ask... well, imagine a 20W lightbulb on it's last legs, flickering in a very dark room - that's how switched on I feel at the moment. Middle of the day sleeps always have that effect on me... So, after writing this I will require a strong coffee and a shower, and that should hopefully then keep me going until 2011). I also still feel very self-indulgent having siestas - it must be the protestant work-ethic hard-wired into the system. How wasteful to spend part of the day sleeping! ;-). Well, as will shortly become apparent, I had quite a busy morning, so deserved a bit of a post-prandial snooze.<br />
<br />
Right, I left you last time as I was waiting for the bus in Tucuman, so let's restart there:<br />
<br />
<strong>Wednesday 29th December 2010</strong><br />
<br />
After finishing blog-writing duties I set off for the bus station. It was stinking hot (again), the sun was blazing directly overhead and I was unable to turn my head (as a result of the stiff neck). But, for some reasons (we all know why: I am tight), I decided to walk the 10 or so blocks to the bus station instead of getting a taxi. I was dripping on arrival (soaked with sweat, I mean. I hadn't miraculously turned into an old-fashioned beef-fat-and-jelly spread - that would have been weird!). Luckily there was an air-conditioned shopping centre at the bus station, so I was able to rest a while there, in order to retain my composure. And just as I sat down, I noticed the 5 Argentinian girls from the hostel, sitting about 10 metres, away, assembling a picnic from the usual components (i.e. processed cheese and ham)... BUT there was a novel twist [those crazy cosmopolitan young things]: the bread was brown and had a rounded end. OMG. I went over to say hello... and then goodbye (one kiss each, as is the custom here)... and I was off to wait for my bus... and wait... and wait... and wait a little while longer...<br />
<br />
The bus eventually arrived about an hour late, giving me amble time for people watching (and over-cautious bag guarding!). I was stood next to a statue of the Virgin Mary (not for any religious reasons, I don't think. It was a co-incidence. Or was it? Maybe, in the back of my mind, I did think that I would somehow be less likely to be the victim of theft if I stood there, with my back to the virgin and my bag between my knees. Does that make me a Catholic?). Anyway, it was amazing how many people came over to touch the glass box she was standing in (I imagine they would have got their grubby little mits on the virgin herself if the glass hadn't got in the way). Some of them held their hands there for quite a long time before crossing themselves in the style of an Ethiopian athlete before a race. It was quite interesting from a socialogical perspective, and the first real insight into the peity of the nation. People here are still quite Catholic, or so it would seem from 60 minutes in Tucuman bus station.<br />
<br />
Well, the sky had clouded over by the time I got on the bus, so the start of the journey was a bit dull (more fields of sugar cane, horses tied to poles (no, not Polish people) at the side of the road, old bangers, distant mountains - God, I'm becoming blasé about seeing such interesting things!). Luckily, there was the excitement of a complimentary processed ham and cheese role (I went totally crazy and added some cream cheese that I had left over from the night before! Just call me Heston Blumenthal [sp?]- I'll be presenting an experimental cookery show on Argentinian TV before you know it), an alfajor and 2 jammy-dodgers (well, an inferior approximation of said British classic biscuit). I didn't do anything with the biscuits (other than eat them), but I did break with tradition in a most revolutionary way by consuming some fruit (an orange) after the "meal" and spraying juice everyhwere in the process. Thank God for the tea-tree-oil wet-wipes, that's all I can say. They have been a godsend (wow, what is it with all the references to God today?... did the V.M. "touch" me while I was standing there in the bus station?). I must also say that wet-wipes were indispensible in the (almost very embarrassing) "yoghurt on the shorts incident", on the way to wine-tasting in Mendoza. Tip to any would-be travellers: wet-wipes, all the way, baby!<br />
<br />
Well, the bus ride got more and more interesting as Salta approached (or as we approached Salta, more precisely speaking). Lush green mountains, undulating terrain, roads with bends (most of the roads in Argentina are totally flat and straight). It was nice, and despite the weather (showers, patches of mist and drizzle), boded well for things to come in Salta province.<br />
<br />
On arrival at the bus station, I was met by a tout, trying to get me into his hostel. I told him I had already booked at another one, and on saying the name, another tout said "oh, that's where I'm from"(all in Spanish, natch) and promptly took me to find a taxi, gave me a voucher for the ride and explained the location to the driver. How nice was that! The taxi driver was also really friendly, asking me where I was from and telling me nuggets of information about Salta (in Spanish, of course, to which I falteringly tried to respond in kind: "<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="es"><span class="hps" closure_uid_xa3mgj="75" title="Haz clic para obtener traducciones alternativas">los</span> <span class="hps" closure_uid_xa3mgj="76" title="Haz clic para obtener traducciones alternativas">árboles</span> <span class="hps" closure_uid_xa3mgj="77" title="Haz clic para obtener traducciones alternativas">son</span> <span class="hps" closure_uid_xa3mgj="78" title="Haz clic para obtener traducciones alternativas">hermosas</span> <span class="hps" closure_uid_xa3mgj="79" title="Haz clic para obtener traducciones alternativas">en esta</span> <span class="hps" closure_uid_xa3mgj="80" title="Haz clic para obtener traducciones alternativas">época del</span> <span class="hps" closure_uid_xa3mgj="81" title="Haz clic para obtener traducciones alternativas">año" [Michelle and Abi, that one's for you!], that kind of thing!</span></span>).<br />
<br />
So, I get to the hostel, and lo and behold, it's flipping empty! Just one other (German) guest! Jeez... and I was hoping for a mixed and interesting (but not too noisy) international crowd. Oh well, must keep positive... and try to make the best of any situation that I find myself in! So, I dumped my bags (at least I've got a room to myself!) and headed to the supermarket (taking in the centre of the city in the process). It seems like a nice place (with a much more indigenous flavour than any previous city), and the hostel has a good atmosphere, despite being devoid of people. The staff are really friendly and because they don't speak English, at least my Spanish will get a bit of an airing.<br />
<br />
Indeed, I spent most of the evening talking to the guy who runs the place (the language barrier resulted in a slightly stilted conversation, but at least I felt comfortable and relaxed in his presence). As a result of which, I slept for almost 10 hours (only occasionally interrupted by stabbing pains in my neck!).<br />
<br />
<strong>Thursday 30th December 2010</strong><br />
<br />
The pains had subsided somewhat upon rising, and there were nice medialunas and coffee for breakfast. Shame the weather was still dull (and cold!), but never mind, a change is as good as a rest (as the hackneyed old cliché goes) and to be frank , I was getting bored of clear blue skies and soaring temperatures (well, no, I wasn't, but like I said earlier, I'm trying to be positive and not regret leaving La Rioja too much!). So yes, as I almost fogot to say... in comparison to La Rioja and Tucuman, it is bloody freezing here! Obvsiouly, it's a matter of perspective, and for those of you back in Europe (and/or any scientific-minded pedants out there [I know quite a few of my friends who fit that description... but I don't know if they can be bothered to read this drivel] you won't consider mid-twenties <em>freezing</em> exactly. But, it must be said, I felt decidedly chilly, and required long sleeves (and legs) for the first time since I left the UK. I've become even softer that I was before (if that's actually possible).<br />
<br />
Given the weather I decided to stay in during the morning and hope it would brighten up later. Oh, the irony! So, after chats on Skype with Mum and Dad and Adrian (not all together... he might have gone "home", but it's his home and not my home [to kind of paraphare Morrissey, Smiths fans {you can comment at this point if you want to be applauded for your superior musical taste}]) (oooh... multiple brackets - classy!), lunch, a bit of a lie-down and a cup of tea, I decided to head out into the gloom. And, oh yes, as soon as I set foot outside it starts to drizzle. Lovely. It could be England (the only difference being that I didn't bring an umbrella with me - which I would never be without in the UK [that's for you Beatris]!). Well, obviously I'm only talking about the weather - that's pretty much where the similarities end! So, it was still interesting to walk around, slowing down under the porticoes and awnings, speeding up in the wet bits and trying to avoid walking too close to the puddles in the road (we think our potholes are bad!). In the end I tired somewhat of feeling damp, so headed to the supermarket instead (along with every other Salta resident, it would seem). It was a bit like being at a rock-concert, as you sort of had to sidle past people where you could, but generally just go with the flow, so as not to get crushed. Anyway, it was worth it for my 1 pound 50 steak and 3 bottles of wine for the price of two (that's 1 pound 50 a bottle, fact fans!). And, very oddly, given the crush, there was no queue for the checkout. Perhaps people were just pretending to shop, in order to keep out of the rain!<br />
<br />
The rain continued all evening (if anything getting heavier and heavier), so I was content to stay in the hostel, eating my steak (yum - I managed to get it just right [seared on the outside, bloody in the middle], despite the limited cooking arrangements - accompanied with pan-fried potatoes and green peppers and a tomato salad), drinking wine (syrah from Mendoza) and later on reading a new book that I've just picked up. I always seem more inclined to read when it's raining, so I could get a fair bit done while I'm here in Salta (it is the wet season, after all). A few more guests arrived (all Argentinian), but they didn't seem particularly chatty, and I wasn't feeling very confident with my Spanish, so greetings and nods were about as far as we got. I was in bed by 1am (slowly returning to my natural rhythm, perhaps)...<br />
<br />
<strong>Friday 31st December 2010 (aka New Year's Eve)</strong><br />
<br />
Another good night's sleep (the hostel is on a pedestrian street, slightly outside of the centre and as a result is blissfully quiet - of course, not having any room-mates also helps!). Breakfast was even better now that I've discovered the fridge! Milk, cereal, Dulce de Leche (for the first time in well over a week - still pretty sickly, but heck it's what you've got to do in Argentina), in addition to the coffee and medialunas of the day before (oh, and fruit, which I forot to mention yesterday). And, guess what? The rain had stopped and the sun was threatening to break through! YES!<br />
<br />
So, without delay (it was already 11am, not waking up until after 10), I hit Salta at pace. My aim was to walk up Cerro San Bernado (the hill which overlooks Salta), and be back in time for a late lunch. To which I can now report: mission accomplished! <br />
<br />
For reasons of thrift (yeah yeah, I know...) I eschewed the cable car, and worked up a healthy sweat as a result. It's about 500 metres above the city (which itself stands at over 1000m), and counts over 1000 steps (there was a sign which told you the number, but I could have done with Dad here to do a proper count [he likes counting steps almost as much as he likes reading number plates and is the reason that I'm not totally useless at sciency/technological things! ;-)] and verify the exact number... something like 1050, I believe).<br />
<br />
At least there were some trees to offer shade on the way up (the sun had come out fully by this point... and it was about 10 degrees warmer than the day before as a result), and it was totally worth it for the views. It was stunning! I shall post the pictures on Picasaweb when I get the chance. The top of the hill/little mountain has been landscaped (reasonably tastefully, it must be said [think tropical botanical garden crossed with a few tons of concrete and an over-ambitious pond/water-feature designer]). There were also some interesting birds (of the avian variety), instects and flowers to gawp at too. All in all a lovely little outing, and the reason I deserved my siesta this afternoon.<br />
<br />
All of which basically brings this blog bang up-to-date. I have just been asked (by the hostel manager blokey) if I want to partake in empanadas to see in the New Year. I was happy to take him up on the offer (although I would have preferred asado - lazy bastard), as the bottle of wine/dinner for one option wasn't exactly my preferred plan! Hopefully a glass or two of wine will improve my Spanish skills sufficiently to take part in at least some of the conversation, and I will enter 2011 feeling contented (and merry). I hope the same applies to you all... may 2011 be a good year for everyone.<br />
<br />
See you next year... until then, take care (especially when drunk: please don't drive or operate heavy machinery)...<br />
<br />
HAPPY NEW YEAR!<br />
<br />
Love J xxSidmouthianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01614140676551279937noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7767214.post-48893926443609658802010-12-29T15:00:00.000+00:002010-12-29T15:00:33.226+00:00Waiting for my bus to SaltaGood morning!<br />
<br />
It's not often you're treated to a morning post, but today is an exception. I had to be up (relatively) earlier in order to check out of the hostel (well, out of the room, at least), but now have to wait until 13:30 for my bus to take me to Salta. Unfortunately, my decrepit body is once again proving a (literal) pain in the neck, because I woke up at the crack of dawn with a very stiff (and sore) neck/shoulder. I'm not sure whether I can place the blame on the bed, the slightly stressful day I had yesterday, or just the fact that I'm getting old. Whatever the cause it's rather annoying (especially being, as it is, hot on the heels of my back). Oh well, I'm sure I'll survive...<br />
<br />
Anyway, I've only got one day to report (the updates have been as regular as my bowels of late), so I had better let you know what I got up to yesterday:<br />
<br />
<b>Tuesday 28th December 2010</b><br />
<br />
After taking an age to get to sleep (it was flippin' hot and sticky in the dorm) and observing the strange antics of my dorm-mate who got up and left in the middle of the night (after only arriving at about 10pm), in the end I had quite a good night's sleep. The period from about 4-10am is definitely the coolest, and with ear-plugs in to guard against early morning birdsong, traffic and kitchen clatter, it's the ideal time to get some solid sleep (no such luck this morning with my neck as sore as it was).<br />
<br />
Breakfast was a disappointing affair. The orange juice was nice (with bits even!) and the bread and coffee were okay, but everything was rationed in very small portions, so there was no mammoth gorging like in other hostels! ;-) I then decided to plan my next move, so set about searching for hostels in Tafi del Valle and Cafayate, which were my next intended destinations. And this is where the day started to go downhill. First of all, the main hostel in Tafi sounded decidedly hippified and grungy, so I thought I would head straight to Cafayate. But there was virturally no availability for the entire period up to and including New Year. Bummer. I wasn't sure I wanted to take the risk of turning up on spec, so I looked into alternative options instead. There was availability in a few hostels in Salta, so with the different options in mind, I went out to explore Tucuman and see what kind of decision I made in the process.<br />
<br />
Tucuman is, in layout and buildings and people, much like any other Argentinian city. There are a handful of colonial buildings, dotted among a random assortment of other architectural styles (including one very random newly-built, Georgian-style townhouse I noticed!). The streets follow the now familiar grid pattern. There are squares dotted here and there. There are battered old cars. There are men with moustaches. The pavements are uniformly uneven. But what <i>is </i>different is the atmosphere, both literally and metaphorically. The humidity lends an air of tropical decay. Things are lusher and greener here. Bryophytes cling to the trees. Familiar varieties of tropical fruit can be spotted in peoples gardens: mangoes, avocados, loquats. Assorted herbage sprouts from neglected plots. Trees are enlivened with splashes of floral colour (frangipani, hibiscus, unknown species). People's skin feels damp to the touch and glistens with sweat (I am basing this on my own skin, rather than from going around touching people!). This is very different from the dusty, wild-west feel of cities further south. And I rather like it.<br />
<br />
However, I did feel a bit folorn, wandering around, not really knowing where to go next. I felt a bit of a stranger in this strange tropical city. This feeling of being a bit "lost" wasn't helped by my search for a cash machine. I hadn't had a problem before, but had heard many fellow travellers complain about the lack of availability and massive queues whenever you did manage to find one. Well, typically (as I was down to my last 2 pesos [about 30p] in cash), today was the day that I struggled to get out money. In the city centre the queues were about 40 people deep, so I decided to head back to the hostel (via the supermarket) and hope to find a cashpoint en route. I thought my luck was in when I found 2 cash points without anyone waiting. But, alas, no, they were both without cash (waiting until you had gone trough the whole process before telling you this, mind, and thus causing some momentary anxiety about whether or not your account would be charged as a result [which I don't think it has]). I then spent a good half hour on a fruitless wander around some rather less salubrious areas of Tucuman, looking (increasingly desperately) for another cash point (at least I didn't have any money to steal). Finally, success! The queue was only 3 deep (although the bloke in front spent about 20 minutes doing <i>something</i>...), and once inside the little cubicle, I extracted my 900 pesos and skipped off the supermarket...<br />
<br />
After lunch, and motivated as much as anything by a desire to be with other international travellers (fear not Argentinian readers - it's not that I don't love you, it's just that sometimes I feel the need to be with other "strangers"... especially solo travellers, who are, naturally, easier to talk to!), I decided to head to Salta for New Year, and see if I could meet some more people from overseas! Thus, I made the rash move of actually booking a hostel (using hostelbookers for the first time - let's hope it actually works!). I'll let you know in due course how it works out.<br />
<br />
A bit of a siesta was required after all the umming and aahing of the morning, after which I headed back out into the city to make further explorations and head over to the bus station to get my ticket for tomorrow. Nothing particularly exciting to report. Similar feelings to the morning: tropical feeling, slightly rough around the edges, some nice buildings, lots of attractive people (as everywhere in Argentina). The weather was cloudy for the first time in ages (oh, it had rained the night before but it had been sunny in the morning) and was noticeably cooler in the afternoon as a result. Oh, and I aborted one supermarket visit after noticing queues that were about 20 people long!<br />
<br />
After a second (successful supermarket trip - some cheap fennel purchased!), I came back to the hostel and showered. As I set about making pasta with fennel and blue cheese, I started speaking to a group of 5 Argentinian girls who had arrived earlier in the day. They were really nice and invited me to eat with them. After faltering attempts at Spanish (on which they [unbelievably] complimented me), they revealed that they all spoke English (one of them almost perfectly) and we spent the evening chatting, playing Pictionary and generally having a fun time. All of which goes to show how important it is to remain positive while travelling: those moments when you feel a bit lonely and dejected can soon be brought round by meeting some nice people and finding that you have connections with (almost) everyone - it's just a matter of somehow breaking the ice and finding a way to initiate the conversation.<br />
<br />
Well, I really need a pee, so I will leave it there for now (people must wonder why I am rocking in my chair!).<br />
<br />
I hope all is well back at home (or in your respective corners of the world)!<br />
<br />
All the best,<br />
Love J xx<br />
<br />
<br />
Oh yes, I was once again asked the time by a person sitting in a doorway. This has happened quite regularly and Adrian's theory is that people recognise that you (assume Devon accent) "baint be from around these parts" are curious to find out if you can speak Spanish. At least now I can tell the time in Spanish (rather than offering them my watch face for them to tell their own time).Sidmouthianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01614140676551279937noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7767214.post-71210643562392034542010-12-28T03:21:00.000+00:002010-12-28T03:21:29.323+00:00TucumanHi Guys,<br />
<br />
I've recently arrived in Tucuman, to a virtually empty, but lovely, hostel, so I thought I'd make the most of the free computer to post a quick update. It also seems quite fast, which is a major bonus after some of the connections that I've experienced in various hostels around Argentina. So, I'll begin with Boxing Day, which is where I left you last time:<br />
<br />
<b>Sunday 26th December 2010 (Boxing Day)</b><br />
<br />
Well, today was dominated by Adrian's departure. I think Oscar and Andres did a good job of covering up their sadness, but I'm sure everyone felt rather upset about their fun few months coming to an end (and friendships being put on hold). Oscar cooked a farewell feast for lunch: 3 different Chinese dishes, eaten with noodles. He's such a perfectionist (maybe that's why we get on so well), he was most perturbed by the lack of soy sauce. But he needn't have worried, once again it was delicious. We then played a few last games of cards before the inevitable time came around... and it was time to get a taxi to the bus station.<br />
<br />
We waved an emotional goodbye to Adrian (after a quick goodbye beer) and then Oscar, Andres and Manolo took me on a tour of the University. It was totally deserted (Christmas holidays), but at least I got a feel for the place. We also met up with an older Chinese couple (whose exact role I'm not sure of, but I imagine they do something to co-ordinate the presence of Chinese students in La Rioja).<br />
<br />
After a quick trip to the supermarket (Chango Mas has become my home-away-from-home during my stay in La Rioja... well, that and Super Vea [both supermarkets handily placed so as not to work up too much of a sweat]), I cooked pasta with aubergine, pepper and tomato (and a lot of chili) and the troops seemed to enjoy it (I think the chili helped!). I wish I could have cooked more typical fare, but most British dishes require more than one ring (i.e. an oven is quite useful)! Hopefully they will be able to visit the UK at some point in the future (although I fear they might find classic UK dishes a bit bland... well, I'm sure a bit of chili and garlic would work wonders!). We played more cards and felt totally at ease in each other's company, despite Adrian's departure (sad though we were that he had gone). It's so nice when you just click with people and can enjoy their company, even when there is a (major) language barrier to overcome.Oh, yes, and more raw eggs were consumed as forfeits for losing (luckily not by me... although I can't say I'd have been that worried... I eat most things, after all!). The looks on Oscar and Manolo's faces as they consumed said eggs were priceless, though, and will long stay in my memory...<br />
<br />
Well, my time in La Rioja was also running out, so I packed my bags in readiness for tomorrow's departure and tried to get an earlyish night (which was rather difficult with the combination of heat, previous late nights and the fact that it was a Sunday!).<br />
<br />
<b>Monday 27th December 2010</b><br />
<br />
In the end I managed quite a good night's sleep, but it meant getting up later than anticipated. Oscar had said he had wanted to get up early to cook me a farewell meal (which sums up his kindness nicely). Well, instead of cooking, he insisted on going and buying empanadas for lunch, which I happily devoured before getting a taxi to the bus station (La Rioja is the only place so far where the bus station is right on the edge of town). The watermelon was aborted, however, on discovery that it was rotten (once it had released it's putrid juice all over the kitchen... which reminds me: in my increasing catalogue of breaking things, I managed to drop a watermelon earlier in the week! Well, to be precise the handles of the carrier bag broke and it cracked in half! Luckily, the carrier bag captured the wreckage, so there wasn't much that went to waste! Phew).<br />
<br />
It was really sad to say goodbye to Oscar and Andres... and so the bus journey was the most melancholy so far on my trip (sensitive soul that I am!). Luckily the scenery was there to boost my spirits. The pass over the mountains between Catamarca and Tucuman was particularly impressive and highlighted a major climatic difference: Tucuman is much more wet and humid than La Rioja. So, instead of deserty scrub and occasional olive groves/vineyards, there were fields upon fields of sugarcane and other lush green tropical greenery. The contrast was amazing considering that it was only a 6 hour bus ride ("only" 6 hours! See how Argentina affects you!). You could also see it in the weather (great big storm clouds, with patches of blue and occasional showers... including a heavy downpour on my way to the supermarket this evening [which you don't really mind when the temperature is still in the 30s at 9pm!]).<br />
<br />
Well, I arrived in Tucuman a few hours ago and my first impressions are good. The city is much bigger/busier than La Rioja, and as I say, it is much more humid (despite the temperature itself probably being a few degrees cooler). The hostel (Tucuman Hostel) is really nice... in a great old colonial building, with a small swimming pool out the back (and lovely internal/external courtyards - if you know what I mean). Sadly, it is almost deserted, but at least that means I should get a good night's sleep! And luckily, the owner/manager is really friendly (we had a good chat while I ate my dinner) so the atmosphere is totally different to San Luis (where it was similarly quiet). So, basically, that's brought things up-to-date. I will explore the city tomorrow and can give you more detailed impressions then! Now it's time to make the most of the quiet dorm, so I will be bid you goodnight!<br />
<br />
I hope all is well with you and that you have finished digesting any Christmas overindulgence...<br />
<br />
Take care,<br />
Love J xxSidmouthianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01614140676551279937noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7767214.post-40997021857196770572010-12-26T19:04:00.000+00:002010-12-26T19:04:29.108+00:00Boxing Day<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Hello, and happy Boxing Day!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Oscar is cooking and the air-conditioning is off, so I am sweating profusely as I type this. It’s still (insert expletive) hot in La Rioja, oh yes (and the sun has shined just about continuously since I’ve been here [not that I’ve seen that much of it, hiding indoors as we have been]). </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’ve just uploaded my photos, not that there are that many – La Rioja doesn’t have many “sights” as such, it’s more about the feel of the place, and that is difficult to capture on camera (sleepiness and incredible heat are qualities difficult to pictorialise). But, a couple of observations came to mind whilst looking back at my photos on Picasa: a) the second chair-breaking incident was particularly memorable because in falling I managed to knock a glass off the table, which miraculously I somehow reached out and caught during my fall. Talk about reactions! </span></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> b) the can of peanut drink was absolutely disgusting, but it was a very kind gesture because Adrian, Oscar and Andres bought it for me from the Chinese supermarket as a Christmas present, stemming from a joke which started in Cordoba, relating to the pronunciation of peanuts!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Friday 24<sup>th</sup> December 2010</span></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Anyway, back to Christmas Eve, which is where I left you yesterday. Our group of four had been expanded to five with the arrival of Manolo (another Chinese guy studying here in La Rioja). We started the day doing our Christmas shop at Super Vea… people must have thought us strange with all the vegetables in our trolley! We then went to the DIY superstore so that I could buy replacement chairs as Christmas presents for Oscar and Andres. It was in the heat of the day, but perhaps fractionally cooler than previous days, so we managed to survive the experience. After a light salady lunch, I continued with blog-related antics, while Oscar set about preparing the Chinese feast for the evening. And what a feast it was! We started with a cool beer or two to refresh the palate… and then started with the first dish, which was a kind of chicken and mushroom stew (but quite dry and obviously with oriental flavours), with the chicken cooked on the bone, and a variety of vegetables added to the mix. Deslish! Considering they only have one ring in the kitchen, it’s amazing what Oscar can do with a couple of woks and endless imagination (and some internet research too, I believe). This was washed down with a lovely Syrah from Cafayate. The second dish was a kind of fondue, similar to the one we had on a previous evening, again with a selection of meat and vegetables cooked in a spiced broth. The Santa Julia wines were a bit disappointing, but nothing compared to the Cabernet Sauvignon from La Rioja (disappointing considering it cost over 3 pounds), which was virtually undrinkable. We decided to mix it with coke later on, which rendered it just about palatable! The now inevitable Fernet and coke followed, with dancing, singing and much festive merriment. It was a fun evening all round and certainly the most “different” Christmas I have ever spent.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Saturday 25<sup>th</sup> December 2010</span></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">A quiet day was required after all the eating and drinking of the day before, so apart from a lovely chat with Mum and Dad (hope your toothache gets better soon, Mum), we didn’t do much apart from play cards and decide where to eat in the evening. Oh, and eat lots of watermelon and oranges! </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The original plan for the evening was to have an asado (Adrian's last one!), but the 2 asado restaturants were closed, so we had to adopt a plan b instead. We ended up in a rather fancy restaurant, which I guess was apt for Adrian’s last night. The food was a bit pricer than usual for Argentina, but still about half what you would expect to pay in the UK. The filet mignon was lovely and the Tannat (red wine) from La Rioja was the best local red wine so far. Oscar thought his pasta was too creamy (the Chinese palate is totally different from the western one… cheese and cream aren’t really appreciated – which would make for an interesting experiene for a Chinese person in the West Country!) and Andres’ tuna and blue cheese was a rather odd combination, but they were the only complaints, so it was another good evening all round.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I can only say good things about the hospitality I have received. Oscar loves to cook and I love to eat, so we have definitely bonded over food (I think that's why he and Adrian get on so well too... well, that and the fact that they are both thoroughly lovely blokes). And not to forget Andres, who is the quieter of the two, but still warm and funny and kind and welcoming. It's the people that make a place and for that reason I will long remember my Christmas in La Rioja...</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Well, I will leave it there for today. Adrian is leaving in a few hours and when I'm at the bus station I'll see what options are available for onward travel myself. I think I'll probably head towards Tucuman tomorrow. The blog updates might become rather more sporadic again from then on, as I struggle with slow hostel computers and internet-hogging guests and such like. But I will try my best to keep you informed.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I hope you are all enjoying yourselves this holiday season and it would be nice to hear your news if you get the chance.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Best wishes,</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">James xx</span></span></div>Sidmouthianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01614140676551279937noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7767214.post-70185751943710401902010-12-26T00:28:00.000+00:002010-12-26T00:28:15.771+00:00Merry Christmas from Argentina!<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Happy Christmas! It’s time to send season’s greetings to all those of you who celebrate today. Hope you are having/had a good one! You probably won’t be reading this now (well you are reading it NOW, obviously, but I mean that it’s probably already Boxing Day or 2011, or never, as while I type this you’ll all be fast asleep in front of the telly. After all that is the true spirit of Christmas!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Having been in La Rioja for a week, it’s now time to bring this bad boy bang up-to-date. So, a week’s worth in one go. Deep breath, here goes:</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Saturday 18th December 2010</span></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I had the dormitory to myself for my last night in Mendoza, which was rather strange as the hostel had actually been over-occupied for the previous few nights, with people sleeping on mattresses on the floor in some of the dorms. It just happened that there was a big exodus the previous evening and no one arriving to replace them. So, after a good night’s sleep (my back was gradually getting better by this stage), it was up reasonably early to check out and make my way to the bus station.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">After another good breakfast I shared a taxi to the bus station with Signe and Malthe (the lovely Danish couple I had spend quite a bit of time with the previous couple of days, who were on their way to the airport for a flight to Montevideo). They generously insisted on paying (I must give the impression of being a proper travelling scrubber!). The bus was 45 minutes late leaving, but once underway it was another scenic ride through desert and scrub, surrounded by mountains and with condors soaring above. Luckily, given that it was a 9 hour journey, my back was feeling better and I have to say the bus rides through endless nothingness are one of the highlights for me. Just the occasional dusty little town dotted between state capitals. It really gives you a feeling for just how big Argentina is and how the geography influences the way of life over here (people think nothing of a 6 hour drive, which is generally anathema for us Brits).</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The food onboard (included in the price, just like a scheduled flight) also gives an insight into Argentinian culture. Lunch was an anaemic ham and cheese roll and tea was an alfajor (biscuitty thing with the ubiquitous <em>dulce de leche</em> filling) and a cup of tea (of which the bag broke, but I was rather thirsty so drank it nonetheless). Continuing thoughts on Argentinian food: I want fruit and veg!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’d like to say that Adrian was waiting for me at the bus station (a rather nice contemporary affair on the edge of La Rioja), but he was late. Clearly his months in Argentina have washed any Swiss punctuality clean out of his system, and he has returned to his native Spanish habits! I’ve thought before how much he reminds me of Mario and once again the similarities have been emphasized. ;-)</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Anyway, better late than never… we got a taxi back to his house (an interesting conflagration of flats and bedsits, clustered around the owners home and central courtyard/garden). Nicely rustic finishing on the buildings and generally a bit of a third world feel! </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We went to the nearby supermarket to get food, and Adrian cooked chicken curry, washed down with beer. It was getting quite late by this time and so we didn’t even manage the 1am meeting time at the venue for Adrian’s leaving party. We were there by 2am, though, so not <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that</i> late! It was a really nice venue. A kind of mainly outside pub/bar, reminiscent of a beer garden, but much, much hotter. I have to say that La Rioja is absolutely baking! However, 2am until 7am is the perfect time… a balmy 25 degrees or so, without the sun scorching the earth. Here it is totally understandably why people live a mainly nocturnal existence.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The party continued back at Oscar and Andres’ flat, with morning-dancing. Not something that I can imagine happening in Sidmouth. I think bed was a record 9:30am! It was actually a really good night, just the right number of people to chat too, practising a bit more Spanish and allowing some of the locals to practise their English too.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sunday 19<sup>th</sup> December 2010</span></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Naturally, Sunday was a bit late starting! And given the heat, that was probably a good thing. Even the slightest movement outside of the air-conditioned flat during the day brings on a major sweating episode. I know I like it hot, but I have decided that 40 degrees is perhaps a bit too hot, even for me!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So, the day continued slowly, eating cherries and watermelon, until the evening, when we ventured into La Rioja for an Asado in a nice restaurant in the centre. Jeez, talk about meat! We went for the whole hog (excuse the mixed-meat metaphor), which included various different cuts and bits of offal. It was really delicious and more than enough to fill 4 greedy blokes, of decidedly mixed origin (bits of China, the Middle East [Oscar has a quarter Arab in him], Spain, Switzerland and Devon all represented). This was followed by more watermelon back at home (dirt cheap here at this time of year and much sweeter and juicier than anything you can ever find in the UK) and a relatively early night (which means about 3am here).</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Monday 20<sup>th</sup> December 2010</span></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Adrian was keen to get moving on Monday morning (feeling guilty for sleeping most of the previous day!), but foolishly gave me the choice of a lie-in which I gratefully accepted. I don’t think my body will ever fully adjust to all these late nights, so I am happy to get sleep when I can. It’s certainly made me more relaxed about the whole idea of routines. I suppose being on holiday makes it a lot easier, but I do feel more easy-going than when I am back in the UK. Perhaps it’s the heat, which generally makes you feel more lethargic and less prone to over-analysis!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Anyway, I was actually up in the morning (for a change), so was able to do my washing and internet-stuff before lunch. I’m just trying to remember what lunch consisted of, because, as most of you are aware, food is definitely the most important element of the day for me. Here, in La Rioja, it is especially so because Oscar is treating me to an array of different Chinese dishes, which is a nice vegetable-filled counterpart to the more substantial Argentinian MEAT-based cuisine. I seem to recall it was washed down with beer, whatever it was, and I’m sure it was delicious. But, instead of wracking my brains to remember what it was I am just going to let it go. It's good practice for me to try to be slightly less anally-retentive and I know you’re not <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that</i> interested in the contents of my stomach!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Even more deliciousness was to come in the evening, though, so let’s concentrate on that instead. Oscar cooked a special kind of Chinese fondue, where you cook various pieces of meat and vegetables in a savoury soup/stock in the middle of the table (further condimented with a kind of dipping sauce). It was superb, and I was able to dust off my chopstick skills, which went down very well with the Chinese fraternity (shocked that a Westerner could be so adept – heck,<em> I</em> was shocked that I could be so adept!). Anyway, it was lovely to sit all together, eating slowly (we must have been eating for a couple of hours, at least), drinking wine and chatting (in a mixture of English and Spanish). In a symbol of Argentinian-Chinese friendship, a guy we had seen earlier in the Internet shop (internet is state-owned here in La Rioja), came to join us for dinner. He kind of knew Oscar and Andres from before, as he had installed their broadband, but it was a fairly spontaneous move all round. I think part of the motivation was that he spoke English and wanted to practice with a native speaker. As always (paid or not) I was happy to oblige. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Before dinner, in the glorious amber light of evening we went for a wander around the town. It’s a gloriously languorous kind of place (you can’t imagine anything happening very fast here... or even anything happening, full stop) and was nice to sit in the main square, eating ice-cream and watching the world go by. Once again I have been made to feel very much at home (albeit a very different kind of home [away from home]) and am really enjoying not doing very much, just soaking up the feeling of the place and trying to understand what it must be like to be a foreign student studying in La Rioja.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">After dinner, we stayed up drinking homemade Pimms (I think I was the only one who really liked it – doubly so given that the total cost of the ingredients was less than a cheap bottle of wine at home) and chatting, which was punctuated by me falling through the chair, in utterly comic fashion. It was a plastic patio chair and the centre simply gave way so that I was sandwiched in the middle. Much mirth and merriment ensued. Another good (late) night, concluded on the balcony, talking to Oscar and Andres (whose English, like everyone, improves dramatically after a drink or two), while Adrian went progressive shades of white and left us in order to be sick! Maybe the Pimms was a tad too potent.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Tuesday 21<sup>st</sup> December 2010</span></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Another sleep-filled morning (I no longer feel like I’m wasting the day, because, frankly, it’s just too bloody hot here! The books were right, La Rioja is one of the hottest places in the world). Chinese noodle soup for lunch, under the cool draft of the air-conditioner. Yum. An afternoon spent doing mundane tasks like clipping fingernails, flossing teeth, internet banking (no, that’s not a euphemism), that kind of thing. There’s no rush, the rat-race doesn’t exist here.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Then, once the sun was close to setting it was safe to venture outside. We had Lomito for dinner, in a lomiteria (not sure if that’s what it’s called, but it should be), which is a kind of giant sandwich, filled with steak, lettuce, tomato, mayonnaise and a fried egg. A tad too salty, but quite tasty in a dirty, fast-food kind of way. Adrian had a slightly different version, topped with oceans of melted cheese. Count the calories in that! It’s no wonder so many Argentinians are getting fat! It was this time washed down with Quilmes Stout, a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">cerveza negra</i>, somewhat reminiscent of Old Peculiar in it’s sweet fruitiness, if not it’s strength. It’s a mere 4.8%.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">After dinner we went to play pool. Good fun and good people watching too. The mullet is alive and well in Argentina, albeit with a distinctive South American twist. I’ll have to try and get some photographic evidence as it’s too hard to accurately describe in words. There were also quite a lot of piercings in evidence, with the eyebrow being a particularly popular location. In the end, we were all pretty knackered (and it was only 2am), so an early night was required.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Wednesday 22<sup>nd</sup> December 2010</span></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Had a jolly good night’s sleep, so feeling half shot-away today (which is when I started writing this… although I’m not sure I’ll get round to posting it just yet… I think I’m going to drip feed you over the next week so that you don’t get blog fatigue). I think, if indeed it’s possible, it’s hotter than ever today. Anyway, I’m now up-to-date with my washing, so have set about the task of updating the blog. It’s hard going with such a massive backlog, but I shall preserve and won’t leave La Rioja until it’s back on track. I might have to stay here for the rest of my time in Argentina, in that case!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">In food-related news, it was stir-fried green beans (hot and spicy, Chinese-style), sweetcorn and empanadas for lunch, followed by a siesta (for Adrian at least), or a few hours out of the heat, listening to music and taking it easy (if typing like a dervish counts as taking it easy). This was followed by an early evening stroll in the centre (by early evening I mean between 7 and 10pm – it doesn’t get dark here until 9pm), eating Adrian’s ice-cream (I originally didn’t fancy one [not being the world’s biggest ice-cream fan] but I changed my mind once I saw him eating his!), people watching and trying to find a jewellery shop so that Adrian could compare prices for his mother back in Switzerland. It’s always interesting just wandering around, trying to get a feel for the place, especially so when you have to walk at a crawl so as not to break out in a massive sweat. Even the locals appear to suffer from the heat…. It does seem kind of all-consuming at this time of year. One other interesting observation is how the heat and Argentina changes your concept of time. I was looking in restaurant windows, seeing the waiters idly standing round, waiting for customers and I thought, “well, of course it’s empty, it’s far too early to eat”. I looked at my watch and it was 9:15pm!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Other observations on La Rioja: people think nothing of taking the whole family on a scooter (and I mean the whole family... I have seen several groups of four people (all without helmets, naturally), all occupying the same small scooter. It makes Italy seem safety-mad! I often look at them and think it would be rather nice if they went around in the style of a stunt-riding display team (you know, with a kid hanging off each side, maybe doing a handstand occasionally, that kind of think). Oh, yes, and there is "Titi" everywhere you look here. And, no I'm not commenting on the female form (would I be that crude?). No, apparently it is the name of a local politician, who must have lots of supporters (or own a paint shop) because his name is daubed on walls everywhere!</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">After visiting the wine shop (I found an interesting bottle of Sangiovese from Mendoza [not very common here] along with a La Riojan Cabernet Sauvignon and a Syrah from Cafayate) we went to the supermarket. It was such a strange experience. Heaving with people, at almost 11 o’clock at night, the queues for the check-out were about 10 people deep. Therefore we didn’t get back and start cooking until after 11pm! In order to stave off the hunger pangs we assembled a picada of cheese and salami and cracked open the Sangiovese (not bad, but not quite up to the heights achieved from the grape in Italy… still what can you expect for 4 pounds [yes, rather extravagant for me, I know!]). Oscar was treating us to more Chinese fare. This time it was a kind of Chinese stew. Lots of different vegetables, with mushrooms and beef. The dish is finished off by piling chili (lots of) and garlic on top of the meat, on top of the stew and then pouring very hot oil over the whole lot. It makes for excellent theatre and tasted divine! We drank a fruity young Temparanillo will the meal, which worked quite well, despite the heat (I munched through a whole chili at one point, and it reminded me of the Chili’s that Michelle once bought us from the Chinese Supermarket in Poole).</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">You will probably not believe it, but I managed to break a second chair. The La Riojan heat must make the plastic brittle, that’s all I can say. Either that, or the many asados and piles of Chinese food have started to take their toll (I don’t think I feel visibly fatter, but could probably be harbouring an extra couple of kilos somewhere on my body). Anyway, it’s providing good entertainment and has given me a good idea about what to get Oscar and Andres for Christmas!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">After dinner we played cards until the early hours, entertaining ourselves handsomely with food-related forfeits (the loser had to eat, respectively: a bread roll, three runner beans, and (the piece of resistance) a raw egg). Adrian had the honour of that one, and did a sterling job of keeping it down (helped, no dobut, by the fact that we had limited our alcohol intake to two bottles of wine between 4).</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Thursday 23rd December 2010</span></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I think Adrian is starting to get into that limbo phase when you are about to leave one place for another. I understand totally how that can wreak havoc on the emotions. It’s quite a big upheaval at the best of times, but when you’ve formed strong emotional bonds with different people (on the other side of the world, especially) it must be really tough. He’s having trouble sleeping, bless him, but at least he made the most of that restlessness to go to the supermarket (braving 43 degree heat get there!) to buy us <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">facturas</i> for breakfast.. What a sweetheart!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Well, breakfast was once again lunch and lunch was at tea-time and today was so hot that it was almost impossible to know if you were coming or going, or what time it was or what you were supposed to be doing just to try and keep cool. The latter involved staying resolutely indoors, directly positioned under the air-conditioning unit, with additional fan-related support, spraying yourself with a mister, not moving too much, wearing as little as possible, that kind of thing. An interesting challenge, interspersed with cries of “<em>que</em> <em>calor, papa</em>!” (apologies for lack of accents, this keyboard doesn't have any) and nods of agreement from anyone and everyone. I’m not sure any conversation extended beyond talk of how hot it was, which was fine for an Englishman who’s obsessed with the weather. I’m in meteorological heaven (or should it be hell [?], given our representation of hell as an inferno of La Riojan proportions!).</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Thankfully the heat was tempered slightly by a spot or two of rain during the evening, and by about midnight it was safe to venture outside. Adrian, Oscar and me went for a couple of beers and some pizza (funny that it should be so much like an American deep-pan affair, what with all that Italian heritage… hmm… that's cultural imperialism for you). Still, it was nice to be outside in the fresh air (and yes, you could almost even describe it as fresh!). An early night for once – in bed by 4:30am!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Friday 24<sup>th</sup> December 2010 (aka Christmas Eve)</span></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So, the big day had arrived (well, here in Argentina, at least, where the major celebrations occur on Christmas Eve… or actually on Christmas Day if you consider that things don’t really get moving until after midnight). But that's going to have to wait until tomorrow because we are off out for dinner shortly.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Once again, Season's greetings to you all.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Lots of love,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">James xx</span></div>Sidmouthianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01614140676551279937noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7767214.post-64079971541028655622010-12-24T23:55:00.000+00:002010-12-24T23:55:58.272+00:00Blogger is messing me about!Bloody blogger. It won't let me edit posts once they're posted. Something weird is going on there. Once again there are some horrible typos/mistakes and I forgot to mention New Zealand in the Mah Jong playing group. Sorry.<br />
<br />
I also wanted to give some extra kudos to Hostel Lagares, in case anyone is reading this and might head there as a result. To summarise: great place, cheap, clean, fantastic atmosphere, friendly staff, lovely guests (I know you can't account for that, but maybe it just rubs off... people seem to want to share food and drink, cook together, spend time together, get to know each other). And did I mention that it's cheap! That's what travelling should be about, IMHO.<br />
<br />
xSidmouthianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01614140676551279937noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7767214.post-46144706643575308102010-12-24T23:39:00.000+00:002010-12-24T23:39:09.082+00:00Chistmas Eve under a (slightly cooler but still) blazing hot sun...Hello people (et bonjour aux lecteurs francophones)!<br />
<br />
Happy Christmas to those continental types who celebrate today (while us Brits are still working hard!!!). I'm not sure I'll be able to write much today, as the Chinese feast will require some preparation (and some eating too)! So I'll just give you a quick couple of entries from my time in Mendoza, just to give you something to read on those cold winter evenings in Europe (or those long afternoon siestas in Argentina), or just when you're really bored if you live anywhere else.<br />
<br />
So, once again (for the third day on the trot), here goes:<br />
<br />
<strong>Wednesday 15th December 2010</strong><br />
<br />
Today was a rather quiet day, after the fun times of the day before. I have to admit I was feeling a bit rough! Still, I managed the 10am deadline for breakfast (just!) and was grateful for the intake of sugar that came from my daily dose of <em>dulce de leche</em> (and the caffeine from the 3 cups of not-too-bad coffee). I then proceeded to spend the rest of the morning sitting in the hostel kitchen talking to my lovely fellow guests, drinking mate and slowly feeling normal once again! ;-)<br />
<br />
Lunch was left-over Spanish Omelette and salad (a godsend, as I didn't really feel like trudging to the supermarket in the heat of the day) and in the afternoon I went to the park with various others (Australian, Swedish, Irish, Canadian, American - have I missed anyone?) to play Mah Jong. It was fun (sitting under some trees in a relatively refreshing breeze [low 30s, perhaps]), but the rules are a bit complicated, so I'm not sure I took everything in during my first sitting. Still, at least if I play again I'll have some idea of who it works!<br />
<br />
I spent the evening chatting with the 3 Swedes, which was delightful. Oh yes, and the American girls in the hostel were just loving my cute English accent! ;-) Which is funny, as I've always hated my voice, but there you go, I was happy to go along with it (and probably even played up to it... just a little bit!). I was teaching the Swedes the names of kitchen utensils (once a teacher...), and the Americans were laughing at my quaint pronunciation (and some of the words, which clearly don't existing the US).<br />
<br />
I have to say that Hostel Lagares is the best hostel so far. And at 30 pesos a night (including a [good] free breakfast and a free cycle tour of the wineries if you stay for 3 nights), I'm not sure how they can manage to make a profit. Their margins must be miniscule! But thanks to them (and my fellow guests) I had a wonderful time in Mendoza... and it was about to get better...<br />
<br />
<strong>Thursday 16th December 2010</strong><br />
<br />
...because today was the cycle tour of the wineries. Our bikes were courtesy of Mr. Hugo in Maipu (not your poo, or his poo, or her poo, or its poo, or our poo or their poo...) and we got the bus there, arriving at about 11am (a civilised time to start, don't you think?). There were 8 of us in total (US, Ireland, Denmark and The UK all represented) and we made a good group (some great senses of humour always helps). Which is just as well, because the bodegas themselves were a little bit disappointing. Maybe we chose the wrong ones, but they all seemed a bit commercial (even the so-called Boutique Wineries) and sales-pitchy too (especially compared to Australia and New Zealand). You have to pay to visit all of them (3 to 4 pounds) and they don't give you all that much to taste either (boo!). And what was most disappointing for me was that there was no choice regarding which wines you taste. Given that I'm not a huge fan of Malbec, I would have preferred the chance to vary the mix of grapes a bit... I got a bit Malbeced out by the end of day! Anyway, we visited 3 in total, and had lunch in one of them (which was really nice [and with a very large glass of wine included :-)], but not all that cheap). Still it was a thoroughly enjoyable day and Mr. Hugo was a star. Upon returning the bikes, he plied us with free water (much needed!) and wine (plonk... but when it's free, who cares). Oh yes, and we also spent an hour or so in the Maipu Beer Garden prior to that, sampling some slightly-odd artisanal ale and playing cards (it was boiling hot, so it was nice to sit in the shade for a bit).<br />
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We decided to continue the tastings in the evening (we had procured a few nice bottles of different varieties en route). It was nice to cook (home-made burgers and various different salads) and wine-taste together. In total I think I tasted Malbec (naturally), Cabernet Sauvignon (of course), Temperanillo (slightly more leftfield - my choice), Pinot Noir (even more leftfield here - obviously my choice), Torrentes, Chardonnay... of which an oak-aged Cab Sauv was probably the best, although I'm a total sucker for Pinot Noir, so that was good too. Generally speaking a big thumbs up for Argentinian wine!<br />
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Friday 17th December 2010<br />
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The last full day in Mendoza and I wake up in agony, with a bad back (it had sort of been playing up sporadically since San Rafael, but today it had hit with a vengence). Typical! I was walking around like an old man (which was doubly ironic, as a) I had mentioned to one of the Swedes about how comfortable the bed was and b) the Irish girls had taken to calling me Grandad [as I was the oldest member of the group]!). Well, you've got to laugh...<br />
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So, as a result it was a rather relaxing day. E-mail, cards with the Irish girls (thanks for the Ibuprofen, by the way, that really did the trick, it must be said), a spot of light shopping (also with the girls - one of them needed a new memory card), a couple of gentle walks around town taking in the sights for the last time (and including the purchase of my onward bus ticket). The only problem was that with the uneven paving (which abounds here), I kept jarring my back and looking like someone who was having a small fit every few metres! ;-)<br />
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It was also a day of goodbyes, as a lot of people were leaving the hostel. But as you say goodbye to some, others arrive. Just not that many arriving in this case. The hostel had gone from being overbooked to being half-empty, but there was still good company to be had. The lovely Danish couple were still there, and Sally, a psychologist from London arrived at the hostel, and it was interesting to get a spot of psycho-analysis over a glass or two of wine! In fact, it was a lovely evening, the four of us chatting and eating and supping! I was going to be sorry to say goodbye to this hostel...<br />
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Well, that's all for now, folks. I need to have a shower before dinner. I said it was cooler today, but now I'm not so sure. I'm a typing this a bit too far away from the air-conditioning unit and therefore the sweat is dripping off me (nice!).<br />
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So, it just remains to reiterate the seasons greetings and send you a big virtual hug from La Rioja. Eat, drink and get merry (that's exactly what I intend to do!).<br />
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Cheerio,<br />
James xxSidmouthianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01614140676551279937noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7767214.post-47442510344884110342010-12-24T01:49:00.000+00:002010-12-24T01:49:34.077+00:00Odd Blogger anticsHmm... I just tried to edit that last post to put in an ending and a PS, but it doesn't appear when you look at the blog itself. Weird. Anyway, I just wanted to say that I started proof-reading, but exhausted myself after two paragraphs and hope that there aren't too many mistakes as a result. I also hope that the experience isn't quite as tedious for you. I rather imagine it's just the effects of the heat and a long day in front of the computer. But ye gads it's a long and arduous read! ;-)<br />
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Well, I'll leave you there for now. I hope you're all surviving your respective climatic challenges and enjoying the seasonal fare on offer wherever you might be (there you go, my twin passions of weather and food, summarised in one handy sentence). I'm preparing for a hot and meat-filled Christmas, albeit with a Chinese twist. And plenty of wine, no doubt. I don't think I'll be indulging in Christmas pud this year (although I've tasted some nice dessert wines which would go very well with it), as I'm not sure it would really go down all that well in the furnace that is La Rioja. I'll just stick to the dessert wine instead!<br />
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TTFN and take care...<br />
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Lot of love,<br />
James xxSidmouthianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01614140676551279937noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7767214.post-30163830553778118502010-12-24T01:17:00.005+00:002010-12-24T01:37:28.410+00:0043 degrees. Count 'em: 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10,11,12,13,14,15,16,17,18,19,20,21,22,23,24,25,26,27,28,29,30,31,32,33,34,35,36,37,38,39,40,41,42,43!<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Hello there,</span><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">“Back again? So soon?”, I hear you ask. Well, yes. Once again here in La Rioja it’s too hot to leave the air-conditioned comfort of the apartment, so I am making the most of the opportunity to get the blog back to where it should be. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">As the subject and introduction may indeed suggest, it's VERY HOT <strong>INDEED</strong> here in La Rioja today, so I haven't been able to stay outside for more than 5 minutes. I am now sat under the air-conditioning unit, with an additional fan blowing directly at me, and typing is still causing a trickle of sweat to dribble down the small of my back. Washing my shoes and placing them outside to dry (which took approximately 5 minutes), is about the extent of my exertions. Well, that and washing the dishes, which brought me out in a sweat so profusive that it would make a malaria sufferer proud (fear not, it <em>is</em> just the heat - otherwise I feel absolutely fine)! Anyway, as a result of all this, I have been able to spend most of the day sat in a darkened, air-conditioned room, writing up my blog, the results of which will shortly follow.</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"></span><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">So, without further ado, let’s move on from Cordoba (about bloody time) and head off on the next leg of my adventures (which will take you from Cordoba, through Mina Clavero, San Luis and San Rafael, to the start of my fun times in Mendoza). Just a few days to go after that and I'll be jolly well up-to-date! I hope you're sitting comfortably, because (even by my standards) this is a flippin' long one:</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"></div><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Wednesday 8<sup>th</sup> December 2010/12/23</span></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I pottered around the hostel prior to getting the bus, checking the internet to make sure I knew the accommodation options in Mino Clavero (drawing myself a handy-little street map, so I wouldn’t get lost) and generally getting myself into a bit of a last minute panic due to the fact that I had decided not to pre-book! I am clearly not very good at being spontaneous!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The bus journey through the mountains to Mina Clavero was absolutely beautiful (see photos in picasaweb for evidence). I saw a couple of condors (and a condor exhibition in the high-level restaurant where we stopped for a toilet break and accompanying panoramic views) and a lot of interesting granite formations. It was a little bit hazy (I can hear Dad groaning at the thought… especially after days of clear blue skies! At least I had a window seat!), but generally rather lovely. My arrival in Mina Clavero was somewhat ghost-town-like. To call it sleepy is somewhat of an understatement (but, I did arrive during siesta time, so I was expecting it to pick up a bit, which it did [a</span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> bit] – apparently, in high summer (January and February) it is absolutely heaving with people [which was rather hard to imagine, given that it was only about 3 weeks away]).</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I arrived at the hostel to find the owner (I guessed) outside, painting. He seemed quite friendly and showed me inside, handing me over to his (heavily pregnant) wife, to do the checking-in. She spoke to me in Spanish, with me trying to make appropriate noises in reply, and I think I managed to understand just about everything. The understanding isn't the problem, it's the trying to utter a coherent response without breaking into Italian and/or making myself seem like a total idiot that's the problem (foreign language students of the world: I feel your pain!).</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The hostel (Andamundos) seemed really sweet (if at little bit too quiet [no need to worry about it being fully booked] and hippified – just a big change from Cordoba, I suppose). There was also direct access to the river, so that was a major bonus given the increasing heat! Despite being at 900m in altitude it was still in the mid 30s, and bright sunshine.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I dumped my stuff (in the half-empty dorm), grabbed my swimmers and headed up the road to find a place to swim. Well, it wasn’t exactly a swim – more of a lounge in a foot deep stretch of river, but it was nice where the water rushed over the rocks and it was really refreshing (but not at all cold) and the evening sun was just perfect.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Later in the evening I met the other hostel residents (well, guests, they were all there on holiday, like me): 3 Argentinian girls (all travelling separately) and one Argentinian couple. So it was Spanish practice ahoy! After dinner we went out for a drink with the guy who works at the hostel (not the owner who I had met earlier, a different person). He was a bit of a hippy dude, but very friendly and he didn’t speak much English, so that forced me to practice my Spanish a bit more. When we went into the bar Fillmere Jive by Pavement was playing (which is one of my favourite songs ever, so that was a good omen), and it turned out to be a lovely little place (quiet but charming). It wasn’t the early night I had planned (‘twas gone 3am by the time we returned [via some nocturnal sights – nothing dodgy, just the town and river by night, including a rickety iron bridge and some stepping stones across the river] so quite early by Argentinian standards, I suppose).</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Thursday 9<sup>th</sup> December 2010</span></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Breakfast at the hostel was nice (bread, dulce de leche, coffee) and was included in the 6 pound 50 a night cost, which seems to be about the going rate (although prices here in Mina Clavero go up a bit during the peak holiday season).</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">There was a bit of a mix-up in the morning (not helped by the fact that I can’t understand everything with my still-limited Spanish). Basically, the guy at the hostel had said the night before that he would take us in his car to a stretch of river where it is perfect for swimming and diving into the water (I was wondering if I would be able to get my nose to look exactly like Dad’s!). In the end, he was late getting up and so there wasn’t really time, because he had to start his shift at the hostel at 1pm. So me and the girls decided to walk up the river from the hostel to find a suitable beach for swimming/lounging purposes. Walking up the river was fun in itself (some quite deep stretches where trunks were definitely required) and we managed to find a lovely spot, where the water was deep enough for proper swimming and where, later on, so local lads came along to dive from a rock into the river (it wasn’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that</i> deep, I didn’t think!). We ended up spending most of the day swimming or just lounging in the water. The temperature of which was absolutely perfect (especially as it was still in the mid 30s outside).</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">In the late afternoon I went exploring around the town and it was absolutely gorgeous (more Picasa evidence, filed under Mina Clavero). The skies were crystal clear and the evening sun cast a lovely warm glow on everything it touched (the weather has been absolutely fantastic so far).</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">In the evening, as pre-arranged, I had an asado with the other people from the hostel (including a Belgian guy, who had arrived during the day). The meat was great, as was the company. The only disappointment was the wine, which you had to buy from the hostel (at a reasonable price, it must be said), and which was rather, let’s say, “sharp”. We played cards for a while (including a game along the lines of snap, but with a twist. If you have the same card as an opponent you have to make the animal noise which they had pre-selected. They found some of the English noises a touch difficult to master. Cock-a-doodle-doo was an obvious favourite, although some of the more random animals were equally hilarious. Despite all the hilarity and merriment, I think we were all in bed soon after 1am, which must be just about the earliest night yet (and I was quite thankful as all the Spanish-speaking had rather taken it out of me)!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Friday 10<sup>th</sup> December 2010</span></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Another nice breakfast started the day (before 10am, as that was last orders at the breakfast bar). I could easily have stayed an extra couple of days, but wanted to move on in order to get to La Rioja before Adrian leaves for Switzerland. It was another scorching hot day, once again under cloudless skies. The bus ride to San Luis was comfortable and scenic. More mountain scenery, but getting drier as we headed south and west.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">San Luis seemed very sleepy for a provincial capital, but again, I had arrived during siesta time, so first impressions could be wrong (they weren’t – San Luis is an utterly sleepy kind of place, and quite charming as a result).</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">My arrival at the hostel (again, easily located due to my pre-sketched map of the city!) was something of a shock. Not because it was heaving with people… not at all… it seemed totally empty, but because I was “greeted” by perhaps the frostiest woman I have ever met (and believe me, I have met a few frosty women in my time!). Jeez, I was made to feel that the fact that I had disturbed here television-watching was the most inconsiderate things a person could possibly do. And to add insult to injury, I had pre-booked at the previous hostel, thus securing a 50% discount on one of the nights. Shock! Horror! How could a person do such a thing?! She would have to check with the manager as that just didn’t seem right at all…</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">No wonder the hostel seemed empty. I noticed 3 German girls arrive shortly after me (who I had seen on the same bus earlier in the day), but they were promptly scared away so that the lazy bitch wouldn’t have to do any work, like actually check people in or talk to them, or lift her lazy ass off the sofa in front of the TV. It seems that pre-booking is the only possible way that anyone would actually stay there (either that, or desperation) and I was rapidly wishing that I hadn’t pre-booked (and pre-paid) and would therefore have also been able to vote with my feet.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Anyway, despite what some of you might think, I always at least <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">try</i> to remain positive in the face of adversity. And let’s focus on the hostel’s good points for a while. There was lots of space (I could choose any bed I wanted in the 18 bed dorm), it was relatively clean and there was nice large back garden, with a swimming pool (small and dirty, but a swimming pool nonetheless)!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-US">Unfortunately, the attempts at positivity remained somewhat short-lived. After a pleasant couple of hours strolling around the city (perhaps “town” would be a more apt description: Buenos Aires this is not) and procuring provisions from Super Vea, I returned to the hostel to cook. As I sat down, I was beginning to despair. There were now at total of 4 people in the hostel. The charming young receptionist (aka The Ice Queen) was still glued to the telly, but had been joined by a couple of older telly-addicts. I knew they were both Argentinian, but I couldn’t work out the relationship. Were they her parents? They certainly seemed sufficiently miserable for that to be possible. Were they part of some fun new TV appreciation society (at one point I swear I almost heard one of them actually chuckle)</span><span style="font-family: 宋体; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: 宋体; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">?</span><span lang="EN-US">Could be, I suppose. They were all absolutely fixated on the goggle-box. Or were they just fellow guests, trying to fit into the spirit of the hostel by not talking and not making any attempt to acknowledge the presence of another person in the room? Yup, that must be it. They did a wonderful job of allowing me to eat my dinner in private, without even turning their head once to investigate this strangely animated presence in the corner of the room. Hell, I might have even offered them a glass of wine if they could have been bothered to say “buen provecho”, of grunt, or something.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">All of which made my pasta taste slightly bitter (at least I had a decent bottle of Temperanillo for company, but even that was somewhat soured by the atmosphere). I was just beginning to think of possible horror-film scenarios (Psycho, Misery, oh, okay, I’ll admit, I haven’t actually seen many horror films, but I could probably write a few based on the thoughts going through my head), with the 3 stooges silently plotting some kind of gruesome murder, until, that was, a couple of travellers (of approximately my age) walked into the room. As they told me later, my eyes lit up when I saw them! I guess it’s moments like this when people believe there actually is a God!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Anyway, almost immediately after they arrived I heard the smashing of glass. Or was it the breaking of ice? No, definitely glass. The couple had plonked a bottle (of plonk?) down on the side in the kitchen and it had smashed to smithereens. What a waste. I was there like a flash to lick up what remained. I’m just joking (I’m not that much of a lush), but I did go to investigate and offer the remains of my bottle (more out of desperation to speak to some normal people, rather than any deep-seated altruism on my part). Well, it worked, and we were soon comparing notes about misery guts and her fellow square-eyes. Rob and Melanie were an Anglo-Catalan couple (Lancashire and Barcelona respectively, but both living in London for the past 10 years). Anyway, we spent a lovely evening together, sitting outside in the balmy evening air (after a very hot day), chatting about this and that. They were attempting to visit all the National Parks in Argentina, with their tent and a camping stove (so were somewhat more adventurous than me, that’s for sure!). I can’t remember what time we went to bed. It wasn’t that late, and anyway, I figured I should be up in time for breakfast (and room cleaning) so as not to incur the wrath of the milk-curdler.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Saturday 11<sup>th</sup> December 2010</span></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">After a good night’s sleep I woke up to discover half-a-dozen mosquito bites around my ankle, one on my elbow and one behind me ear. So, she had unleashed her secret weapon during the night. I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if she kept a jar of mosquitoes just for that very purpose. Guests come along, haven’t paid the full price, so she sets the mosquitoes on you! Be warned people: she’s dangerous as well as miserable!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Thus far on my trip I had managed to avoid the curse of the mosquito, and so I had been blithely wandering around unprotected. No longer! Henceforward I has be liberally slathering myself in repellent from head to toe (when I remember, at least).</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Breakfast was adequate, but ice-knickers turned the milk sour nonetheless. I didn’t dare ask for any more coffee so made do with the one cup, and vacated the table as quickly as possible. I noticed after breakfast that the icicle was pretending to clean. This amounted to walking around with a broom for 5 minutes, before sitting down in front of the TV once again, to catch up with the latest news from the world of Argentinian soaps.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I decided it was best to clear out of the hostel while cleaning took place! I went for a wander round the town, but found it rather less pleasant in the heat of the day than it was in the balmy golden light of the previous evening. Still, at least I saw all the sights (!), and was back in time for a hearty lunch!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">During lunch, I met a friendly Argentinian dude (thankfully it seems that Jill Frost is the exception that proves the rule: Argentinian people really are exceptionally friendly). He’s a teacher working in Buenos Aires as a teacher of Spanish for Chinese students (in town for some kind of exam board meeting), so we compared notes for a while, before he headed out to explore. I had a lounge be the pool after lunch (the closest I got to a swim was a foot-dangle, as the water looked a touch mucky, to say the least). It was much cooler (i.e. about 27, in comparison to the mid 30s that I had been experiencing), with a refreshing breeze/gale-force wind (depending on where you were sitting!). I got myself slightly toasted (I blame the wind, but an insufficiently high factor was probably the real reason!).</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Went for further wanderings in the evening (the lack of photos under San Luis corresponds to the lack of sights!) and booked my bus ticket for San Rafael. Came back, drank mate, showered and wrote diary prior to cooking. I was quite surprised to see the Anglo-Catalan couple return (I thought they had left for the nearby National Park in the morning). It was funny because I had joked the previous evening that I would pay for them to stay, just so that I had someone to talk to! Well, I didn’t need to because they had discovered the only suitable buses left around 8am and they had missed them all, so would now have to wait until tomorrow.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Anyway, I was glad that they hadn’t gone because we were able to spend the evening together, chatting, drinking wine and neat Fernet (a handy amar[g]o/digestif in the absence of coke). It was actually quite chilly outside (for a change) so there was no al fresco dining on this particular evening (but luckily there was no chill wind inside the building: ice-pants didn’t work the night shift, thank God).</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Sunday 12<sup>th</sup> December 2010</span></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The Anglo-Catalan couple did manage to get away early, so I didn’t see them in the morning (we had said our goodbyes the previous evening). Luckily, it seemed it was the Ice Queen’s day off, so breakfast was an altogether more enjoyable affair, with the manager offering multiple refills and generally being more accommodating (still, he continued to question my half-price night, until I was forced to put on my sad face, at which point he said that it wasn’t a problem and we could forget about it. Quite right too.).</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Apart from trying to squeeze more money out of me, the managed seemed quite a pleasant fellow. Over the course of the next hour or so we (me and the Argentinian guy – who had just returned from his night out in a nearby town, having had to wait from 5am until 8am for the first bus of the day) got his full life story. I think Argentinians are quite into the concept of therapy (and he was seemingly using us as his therapists!). Anyway, it was all quite interesting and good Spanish practice for me. It also gave me a feeling for the people of San Luis (quite slow and lazy, with lots of cumbersome bureaucracy, apparently).</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Talking of people, I must just mention the nutty woman who was staying at the hostel while I was there. She was one of the ones watching TV on the first evening, but became a bit chattier as the weekend progressed. So, here are some case notes on the patient:</span></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 21pt; mso-char-indent-count: 0; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -21pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">l<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span><span lang="EN-US">Had lived in London for 10 years (“Just off The King’s Road” as she repeated told us. I’m not sure if it’s THE King’s Road, or a slightly less salubrious version somewhere in Essex, which would somehow be much more fitting).</span></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 21pt; mso-char-indent-count: 0; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -21pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">l<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span><span lang="EN-US">She had Italian parents (one from Calabria [!], one from the North of Italy somewhere)</span></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 21pt; mso-char-indent-count: 0; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -21pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">l<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span><span lang="EN-US">She was looking for work in San Luis because she couldn’t find a suitable job where she comes from (Buenos Aires!). I think she wanted to be a translator because she could speak various different languages, but didn’t have any certificates to back up her abilities. Actually, her English and Italian did seem quite good.</span></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 21pt; mso-char-indent-count: 0; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -21pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">l<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span><span lang="EN-US">She apparently hated Argentina and it’s people and was desperate to return to the UK, where things were just so much better. The green green grass of home clearly has it’s charms (thanks Tom!)</span></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 21pt; mso-char-indent-count: 0; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -21pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">l<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span><span lang="EN-US">She spend the day sunbathing on Saturday and came out in some kind of facial eruption, which she proceeded to slather in sudocreme (or some kind of white ointment). You know when you shouldn’t look at something, but can’t help being inexorably drawn to it… well, it still makes me chuckle to think of the acres of white cream covering much of her face!</span></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 21pt; mso-char-indent-count: 0; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -21pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">l<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span><span lang="EN-US">Her favourite story (which she told at least once to everyone in the hostel) was how San Luis<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>was just so hot (and at such an altitude – which it’s not!) that she collapsed in the street. In fact, she was always complaining about just about everything (one of those!).</span></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 21pt; mso-char-indent-count: 0; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -21pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">l<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span><span lang="EN-US">She just sat in the hostel all day every day, watching TV mainly. She kept saying that she was going back to Buenos Aires as soon as possible because she just could stand San Luis any longer, despite also saying that she couldn’t stand B.A. because she has been mugged 5 times.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">What a strange lady!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Anyway, back to more mundane matters. I had an easy day, lounging around, waiting for my bus to San Rafael. More gin-clear skies today, and less of a breeze so the temperature was starting to climb again (but the air was still noticeably cooler than it had been earlier in the week).</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The bus journey was once again a scenic ride through mile upon mile of nothingness. Things did get a little be more “developed” closer to San Rafael, where the irrigation channels from the Andes [visible in the distance and quite majestic], allowed the cultivation of various fruit and vegetables, with the first signs of the vineyards, which were one of the main reasons for heading this way. There was a variety of birdlife to observe (more condors) and a trolley service for the first time (tea and alfajors – sickly dulce de leche filled biscuity things).</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I found the hostel without any problems, despite arriving just after dark (about 9:30pm). As I mentioned earlier, I have been drawing my own little maps in my notebook, like a primitive iphone or GPS! In a nod to spontaneity I had decided not to pre-book the hostel. As it turned out there wasn’t much need. Only a handful of people in the hostel and a dormitory to myself, which was bliss, apart from the saggy foam mattress, which gave me backache. I didn’t do much during the evening apart from shower, cook and eat, and observe my fellow guests (a couple of yankee rafters, a group of French lads and a couple of Argentinians). I didn’t engage in much social discourse as I was rather tired and wanted to benefit from my own private room for a change!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Monday 13<sup>th</sup> December 2010</span></span></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Breakfast was rather disappointing (and still with a 10am cut off – it would seem that only the hostel in Cordoba offers an all day affair). The crillojitos were rather stale and the off milk didn’t help the insipid coffee either. Yum. Also disappointing was my first attempt at wine tasting. Despite copious internet research (the day before in San Luis) I ended up at the headquarters, rather than the bodega itself. Hence, no wine tasting in the morning. I consoled myself with the purchase of a bus ticket to Mendoza (4 pounds for a 3 hour journey) and some bits for lunch. That in itself proved a bit of a challenge. I was wandering around for about an hour, in the increasing heat of the day, trying to find a supermarket. In that time I passed about 4 paint shops, but no food outlet at all. In the end I found a corner shop, just about to close for the siesta, but was rewarded with some very cheap apricots and a selection of other goodies.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Then, in the afternoon I proceded with stage two of the wine tasting. The first place was fine (3 nice wines to taste: Malbec, Malbec Rose and Tokaji [a delicious white from a rare Italian grape], but the second one was already closed at 5:10pm, despite saying on the website that they were open until 7:30pm. Bummer! Oh well, never mind... I wasn't able to taste all that well anyway (or communicate all that effectively what with my lack of Spanish and the bloke's lack of English! I could understand almost all that he said but I had to resort to French at times to make myself understood [the owner is French-Swiss, so I imagine that's why the staff also speak French]). Re being unable to taste, either my cold had come back or I've developed an allergy to something because my nose had been playing me up the last couple of days. Bit strange because otherwise I feel fine. Hopefully it will clear up in the next few days... (it did, you'll be pleased to hear!).</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">In the evening, the hostel was still pretty quiet. The Americans were quite pleasant (the chap had had a wasted journey to Mendoza during the day – a 7 hour round trip to collect a package, only to find that collecting international parcels was only possible in the morning – ah the joys of the Argentinian postal service!). There was also a chap from Argentina (B.A. province) who travelled around Argentina inspecting petrol stations. He was really friendly (but spoke no English, so my Spanish got a further work out!) and offered me some of his meat (even for an Argentinian he had bought far too much!!!).</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I had a second night to myself in the dorm, which was nice, but by this stage I was kind of hoping for a few more (interesting) people in the next hostel (and a bed which doesn’t give me back ache)…</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Tuesday 14<sup>th</sup> December 2010</span></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Breakfast was better (at least the milk wasn’t rancid today) and the bus ride to Mendoza was absolutely stunning. There were clear views throughout to the high peaks of the Andes and yet more cloudless skies.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">It was rather hot on arrival (at about 3pm – peak siestia time), but there were still some people about: Mendoza already seemed rather more lively than the sleepy towns that had preceded it! I hadn’t bothered to pre-book my hostel, given how empty the other ones were, but after a sweaty 25 minute walk, I arrived to discover that it was almost full. I was asked to wait while the chap looked to see if there were any free beds, and thankfully there was just one left. My luck was in, and just as well, as the other hostel I had considered was on the opposite side of town!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">There was a lovely atmosphere in the hostel, and I immediately started chatting to a couple of girls in the kitchen (Libby from Wellington, New Zealand (not Somerset) and Kayla from Kansas).</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">After partaking in some mate and grabbing a bite to eat, I headed off to explore the city.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I walked around for about 3 hours, taking in the main sights of the centre (five lovely leafy squares, and beautiful tree-lined streets [beautiful avenues of Plane trees]). There are water channels everywhere, funneling water down from the Andes to provide irrigation in what otherwise would be a virtual desert landscape. I also headed over to Parque San Martin, which was huge and also very green. It was certainly a very good first impression and I was particularly taken with the water channels and plane trees (that’s the landscape architect coming out, I suppose). The city has quite an affluent feel (especially the western parts, out towards the part) and it was lovely to just amble around, getting a feel for the place.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-US">I returned to the hostel via the supermarket (strangely empty at 7:30pm – are people boycotting France for any reason? – it was a Carrefour). Dinner was Spanish Omelette (a challenge in a hostel kitchen – but luckily it turned out quite well, with a bit of careful plate-work and a bit of luck!) and salad, with the inevitable bottle of wine (this time a Tannat from Cafayate). There were lots of lovely people at the hostel. 3 Irish girls (Annie, Margaret and Tracey [alphabetical order so as not to indicate a preference!], 3 Swedes (not the root vegetable, a couple and a friend from just south of Stockholm) and all sorts of other nationalities. A really great mix and everyone very friendly. Some hostels just seem to attract a good crowd and have a wonderful atmosphere as a result. That is certainly the case with Hostel Lagares in Mendoza. As a result, I had a late night drinking and chatting on the terrace (I was trying to convert the masses to the wonders of Fernet and Coke, but with limited success… so probably consumed rather more myself than I should have! Oh well, shit happens!!!). </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></span></span></div><br />
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</div>Sidmouthianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01614140676551279937noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7767214.post-40994579839197143172010-12-22T22:25:00.002+00:002010-12-24T00:56:20.502+00:00Hello from a stinking* hot La Rioja<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Evening folks!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-char-indent-count: 2.0; text-indent: 21pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’m back from the wilderness (metaphorically, at least, because you could probably argue that I’m literally still in the wilderness. La Rioja has a certain wild-west feel to it). And are you in for a treat in the run up to Christmas. Oh yes! It’s going to be blog-tastic. I hope the combined excitement won’t be too much for any of you. Particularly in light of all the snow that some of you have been having. I must say that Dad’s shots of a (very) snowy Sidmouth gave me a few pangs of homesickness and the feeling of “how bloody typical?: a lifetime spent waiting for a Sidmouth whiteout and the year it comes, I’m on the other side of the world, basking under a 40 degree sun”. Oh well, I know I shouldn’t complain, after all it is lovely here, and I know that some of you would give anything to see the sun right now, but, you know what they say: the grass is always greener on the other side, especially when it has been scorched brown by the sun, or covered by a blanket of snow. The nonsense of which means that in this case I should probably say that the snow is always whiter on the other side. Whatever! You know what I mean. Still, despite the small twinges of snow-related jealousy, I am still having a fabulous time and making the most of every opportunity that comes my way (which in these days in La Rioja means eating Chinese food, trying to avoid the scalding heat of the day and experiencing life as a foreign immigrant living in Argentina!) All of which will become clear in a few days time when I get round to pos(i)ting (that was originally a typo, but it still kind of made sense, so I thought I would edit it and draw your attention to it - pedantic Ed.) the La Rioja Chronicles.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Anyway, I’m going to try to post everyday from now on, until such time that you can read my blog in real-time (well, almost), so that’ll be nice (and give you something to do if you happen to be snowed in over Christmas) . First, cast your mind back to Cordoba, in the relative cool of the late Argentine spring, and we’ll begin where I left off, on the date that follows (below): </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong>Sunday 5<sup>th</sup> December 2010</strong></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">A Sunday lie-in was followed by breakfast (for which the hostel staff are most accommodating – the free breakfast could be provided at any hour of the day). It was quite nice too: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">criollitos</i> (a kind of cross between puff-pastry and bread) and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">medialunas</i> (or croissants to speakers of Frenglish), with, yes, you’ve guessed it, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">dulce de leche</i>! And slightly odd tasting coffee. After fortifying ourselves with sugary goodness, we headed out for the day. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">And we actually had quite a productively touristy day, taking in one of the Art Galleries (really rather good for 3 pesos, with a good range of different art works (see www.picasaweb.google.com/sidmouth11/cordoba for some examples) and a nicely converted old belle époque building). A flea market followed (good people watching) and then the nice streets which line the waterway that runs through Cordoba (can’t really call it a river because it makes the Sid look like a raging torrent!). Lunch (or tea, given the timing) was consumed in the park (full of Cordobeses drinking mate), and included the best <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">criollitos</i> and most mediocre sandwiches yet. A sandwich in Argentina is one thing and one thing only. It is the most thinly sliced sliced-white-bread imaginable, filled with one slice of ham and one slice of cheese. To call it bland is to credit it with more flavor than it actually possesses, but it has a certain kind of charm, that perhaps stems from the effort to make something so processed, so neat and so homogenous, as if any deviation from the formula (square and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">very</i> white) would ruin the whole effect. And it fills a hole. Still, if someone could open the minds and markets of Argentina to the near infinite range of fillings available in the UK they could (possibly) make a killing. <span style="mso-tab-count: 4;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 15;"> </span></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 15;"> </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">You’re probably thinking that’s just about enough food-related discourse for one day, but there’s more, I’m afraid. We had dinner in an all-you-can-eat International restaurant. It was huge, and rather like a 3 star hotel buffet, but the range of food was impressive and included a lot of fruit and veg (the reason it was called “international”, perhaps!). Needless to say we were absolutely stuffed come the end, and for 6 quid each, you can’t really argue with that!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">After dinner we played cards back at the hostel, drinking neat Fernet as a (much-needed) digestif. It has been another good day (sunny and warm, of course), in good company and in a lovely city, which seems a very liveable place indeed.<span style="mso-tab-count: 5;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 6;"> </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong>Monday 6<sup>th</sup> December 2010</strong><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 7;"> </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Most of the day was spent deliberating what to do next. There were various options placed on the table, but we all rather wanted to do different things, so in the end it seemed more sensible to go our separate ways. Adrian wanted to go to Iguazu Falls, so him and Oscar were going to head there (back via Buenos Aires and Rosario, i.e. the long way round… for me the thought of 20 hours on a bus was a step too far!). Andres wanted to go straight back to La Rioja to prepare for an exam later in the week, i.e. the direct route. And I wanted to head over the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sierras Cordobeses</i> towards Mendoza, i.e. the intermediate (or lagom, if you’re Swedish) option. Some of my time in Stockholm has clearly rubbed off!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I decided to spend an extra day in Cordoba first as I really like the hostel and the city, and given the length of my stay I didn’t feel in any particular rush.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">After all that deliberation, we needed fortifying, so a massive picnic-style lunch (only eaten indoors, out of the heat) was prepared (with beautiful plate-arrangement courtesy of Adrian). It comprised: bread (quite nice by Argentinian standards, which is to say much better than your average UK loaf, but not as good as continental Europe or Mum’s homemade), cheese (processed crap, not a lot of choice in that department, unfortunately), ham (average), tomatoes (good!), eggs (very good… lovely bright orange yolks). I still gain endless satisfaction from buying and eating food in foreign countries. It just says so much about a place to consider what people eat and drink and the manner in which they do it!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We didn’t bother with wine, as I was feeling a bit coldy, but there’s plenty more time for wine consumption down the road, so happy to have one meal without!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">In the afternoon, I had a new “typical Argentinian experience”. Adrian needed to get some money by Western Union transfer, so that required going to the Post Office. To borrow from Craig Revel Horwood, three letters perfectly describe the experience: OMG! We waited in the queue for an hour and a half, only to discover that the number Adrian had was wrong and they couldn’t give him the money. Bugger. Thankfully, a quick trip to an internet cafe, correcting the wrong digit, a bit of queue jumping (the man who had served us waved us back without needing to wait), and a lot of slow bureaucracy (I haven’t come across such ponderous transacting since my days of local government!) later, Adrian had his money. Hooray for that!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We were then able to go the bus station to get our respective tickets. We subsequently treated ourselves to steak (lomo, which I think is like sirloin) and ratatouille for dinner, washed down with more impressive wine (still in the 2 to 3 pound range and almost always delicious). You could go for a 80p briquette, but I figure that after 10 years of gainful employment I am worth (slightly) more than that! Andres got his bus at about 11pm, so it was down to the 3 of us at this point.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Some thoughts on Hostel Che Salguero so far: great place, nice area of Cordoba, lovely staff, and some slightly odd guests (aren’t there always!). To summarise the people watching highlights of the last few days: 2 hard-partying Irish guys, almost impossible to understand; one Canadian girl who just wouldn’t shut up (I know, I can talk!), but generally quite annoying; 3 arrogant Oz “dudes” who didn’t speak to anyone else; one English couple who probably couldn’t look like they were having a worse time if they tried (think there must have been a few “marital difficulties” there); and a random assortment of other nationalities: Germans, Americans, Columbians, etc. Quite a cosmopolitan place, overall. And the major bonus of having Adrian, Oscar and Andres for company. It’s fun travelling alone and meeting new people, but it’s even more fun when you can dissect your fellow travellers and laugh about the bizarre goings on that are part and parcel of hostel life.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong>Tuesday 7<sup>th</sup> December 2010</strong></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">In the morning I went to see Adrian and Oscar off at the bus station and afterwards walked up to the viewpoint over the city (more disappointing than it sounds). I then went to the modern art gallery only to discover it was closed for refurbishment. Bummer. I headed back for lunch and checking of e-mails (not that anybody had sent me any: gone and already forgotten!). I then proceeded to try my luck with another art gallery. At least this one was open (and free), but a bit disappointing (especially as it was raved about in Lonely Planet). There were no Lucio Fontana works, as promised, either. Still, the building was interesting and there were some okayish modern installations to ponder! </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">After my shot of culture I had a final wander around the city, which has been uniformly sunny and lovely. Oh, yes, there was also this weird thing with approximately 100 police cars (arranged in 4 rows of 25). I had noticed this on the way to the art gallery and thought “what on earth?” Well, it must have been some kind of ceremony to inaugurate the purchase of 100 new police cars for Cordoba’s police force. There was a brass band and a master of ceremonies, and everything, as well as 100 police officers each standing next to their new cars. Weird!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">In the evening I had nice chats with two French guys (studying in Santiago) who complimented me on my French and thus endeared themselves to me instantly, two German girls (who had both studied in the UK and therefore had excellent English), a couple of Argentinians and a Basque (someone from that part of the United States of “Spain”, that is, and not a item of underwear). You certainly meet more people when travelling alone, but whether or not this a good thing is a matter of mood and interpersonal dynamics. On this occasion it was good, but I was still sorry that I had had to say goodbye to Adrian, Oscar and Andres. Oh well, I would see them again in a couple of weeks (which I am doing as I type this)…</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Well, I think that is enough for today. The heat should just about have subsided sufficiently to venture outside (i.e. dipped below 35 for the first time since about 10am). I’ll be back with more tomorrow, so until then I will say goodbye.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’ve uploaded my photos to </span><a href="http://www.picasaweb.google.com/sidmouth11"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Calibri;">www.picasaweb.google.com/sidmouth11</span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> and 12, some of which relate to what I’ve written, some of which will make more sense in the days to come...</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Enjoy the snow (or sun, or rain, or whatever the sky is throwing at you).</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Best wishes,</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Love J xx</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><br />
*also refers to Adrian's bedroom!Sidmouthianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01614140676551279937noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7767214.post-36726312984378167132010-12-13T18:42:00.002+00:002010-12-13T18:46:11.497+00:00A (wine) taster from San RafaelHola Chicos!<br />
<br />
I've just got time for a very brief update from San Rafael, making the most of siesta time here, while I await the opening of the bodegas for wine tasting. This morning's outing ended in abject failure, as I walked about 15 blocks, only to find one wine company's headquarters (not the vineyard) without a tasting room in sight. Boo. So, it was then another (almost) fruitless search for a supermarket (walking around in ever-decreasing circles), before I stumbled (literally - these flip-flops aren't the most secure walking devices: the French would be shocked by the inappropriate nature of my footwear) upon a corner shop where I was able to procure items for lunch. Suitably sated, I am now able to write this. Since it's been almost a fortnight since my last entry, I am going to head back (virtually) to Buenos Aires, and recommence my day-by-day analysis of proceedings thus far. In the 30 minutes I've got left, I might even get as far as Córdoba (if you're lucky). So, once again, here goes:<br />
<br />
<strong>Thursday 2nd December 2010</strong><br />
<br />
Having managed to obtain a suitable bus ticket the night before (leaving from close to where Cami lives), I was able to sleep soundly (unusually for me) in the knowledge that the following night would be spent riding across the flat plains of Argentina, trying (in vain) to keep my eyes closed while the bus bumped and heaved it´s way to the middle of the country.<br />
<br />
Morning brought a breakfast date with Fernanda, Lourdes and Carolina (<em>cafe con leche y medialunas</em>) in a nice (but empty) cafe in the middle of Monte Grande, which was followed by assorted bag-preparation, the eating of a ton of rice salad for lunch (thanks Cami), the drinking of <em>yerba mate</em> and eating of <em>pan dulce</em> (about 10 slices of!) in the garden. I could probably survive the entire trip on my fat reserves alone, such was the generosity I experienced staying in M.G.<br />
<br />
So, that was nearly it. The time for "real" (i.e. unaccompanied) travel was nigh. Martín came to say goodbye (which was nice) and I was packed off with a load of food for the journey and the whole family came with me in the car to say goodbye (including Brisa, the adorable spannel* [sic.]).<br />
<br />
I must say the bus was very comfortable (almost like a Business Class airline seat) and not at all expensive (28 pounds for a 12 hour journey). However, being in possession of Dad's travel-sleep genes, I didn't manage to sleep much. There were also some rather abrupt changes in temperature, which did wonders for my cold. Not. It started off freezing cold (air-con on max) so I put on my fleece. Then they turned the air-con off, so I got really hot. This process duly continued until my throat was nice and sore and my nose was running like Paula Radcliffe (i.e. a lot, not stopping running half-way for a shit).<br />
<br />
*this is a Wood family joke, for anyone puzzled by the deliberate misspelling<br />
<br />
<br />
<strong>Friday 3rd December 2010</strong><br />
<br />
We arrived into Córdoba more or less on time (well, about 30 mins late, but I'm feeling generous - and anyway, I was too zonked to really care). Adrián, Oscar and Andres were waiting for me at the bus station, which was nice. The day passed in something of a sleep-deprived blur, so I will record the events of the day in the form of a bullet-pointed list (reflecting the effort required to complete the most simple of tasks [and the resulting satifaction from getting them done without falling asleep]):<br />
<br />
<ul><li>Went to hostel (which I had rigourously researched) to dump bags (check-in wasn't until 12 noon)Looked around city (good first impressions - a more manageable size than B.A.) and stopped in a cafe to have breakfast.</li>
<li>Bought empanadas and wine for lunch.</li>
<li>Drank wine.</li>
<li>Had siesta.</li>
<li>Went to park. Skimmed stones in a fetid and filthy lake (sorry Córdoba, but it was). Otherwise it was a pleasant park (sort of green and park-like, but not parky because it must have been about 28 degrees).</li>
<li>Ate asado at the hostel and drank more wine.</li>
<li>Drank Fernet and coke (and could develop a serious liking for it, I fear).</li>
<li>Went to Studio Teatro nightclub, which played good music and was (as the name might suggest) in a nice old theatre.</li>
<li>Danced the night away (literally)</li>
<li>Went to bed at about 7am (thus meaning I should now be writing this in the following day's entry, which I shall duly jump to).</li>
</ul><br />
<strong>Saturday 4th December 2010</strong><br />
<br />
We all had a good long lie-in (the whole sleep pretty much being a lie-in if you consider that my normal get-up time is about 7:15am), with meals now operating on a time-delay system. Thus, breakfast is at lunchtime (on this occasion actually a late lunch), lunch is at dinnertime and dinner is in the middle of the night (a midnight snack, if you like, only 10 times the size*!)<br />
<br />
Once again the weather was just about perfect, and we engaged in further city-rambling. This time we went as far as the river at the northern limit of the centre (not that exctiting, but the whole city is a very pleasant place to stroll - I like Córdoba a lot). The undoubted highlight of the walk was Adrián desperately needing a poo (recallying memories of Dad's infamous stay on the Italian Riviera), and being unable to find a toilet anywhere (much hilarity came from the discovery of a toilet shop, though!). Eventually he found a toilet in a petrol station, but he was so long we thought he was needing to wash himself down, after finding the toilet "just a few seconds too late". This provided ample opportunity to bond with Oscar and Andres (Adrián's Chinese housemates), as we used toilet humour to bridge the linguistic gap!<br />
<br />
I cooked pasta for dinner. More wine was consumed and we went to a nice bar in the evening (well, more middle-of-the-night if you are reading this in northern Europe or in another colder clime). It was a more relaxed evening than the previous one but equally enjoyable and still later than your typical Sidmouth night out.<br />
<br />
Well, that's all I've got time for, for now. The rest of Córdoba, Mina Clavero, San Luis and now San Rafael will just have to wait. Don't worry, I've been having a good time wherever I've been. This time next week I'll be staying with Adrián in La Rioja, so I should hopefully have better computer access from there, and thus be able to get this blog back on track. Until then, I will wish you all a happy and healthy run-up to Christmas and I'll try sending some of the Argentinian sun to anyone out there suffering from S.A.D. (the weather continues to be glorious here, it must be said, which will no doubt leave you all with a sour taste in your mouth, as those of you back home [or nearby] freeze your collective bits off).<br />
<br />
Time for wine-tasting now (sorry, I'm not deliberately trying to make you jealous**)...<br />
<br />
Hasta luego,<br />
Love J xx<br />
<br />
*eat you heart out Nigella!<br />
**not much! ;-)Sidmouthianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01614140676551279937noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7767214.post-90635601099289366332010-12-01T19:58:00.000+00:002010-12-01T19:58:26.700+00:00The last few days in Monte GrandeAs promised earlier, I'm back with a day by day update of the last four days.<br />
<br />
<b>Sunday 28th November</b><br />
<br />
Sunday started early (at about 12:30am) because Saturday never really finished! Carolina and Fernanda came to pick Camila and me up from her house, from where we went to Monte Grande's very own Irish Pub. I felt it only right that I should drink a <i>cerveza negra</i>, although it was a local variety, which more resembled a fizzy, sweet black lager than the velvety black meal-in-a-glass that is Guinness, but still, it was actually quite nice. Axel then came to meet us, but stayed in the pub (for political reasons) while we went to the Rugby Club for the social event of the <s>year month week</s> evening.<br />
<br />
The most notable aspect of the evening was the drop in temperature (mentioned in my previous post), and generally speaking it wasn't quite as much fun as the previous evening. The crowd was bigger and younger, the music more repetitive and I was rather more tired. By 5am I was falling asleep and as the sun started to rise (with beautiful colours in the sky) it was time to hit the sack.<br />
<br />
I managed to sleep until almost lunchtime (and so was quite impressed with myself!), and upon arising, went downstairs to discover an asado being prepared in the back garden. This time it was chicken rather than beef, with plenty of different salads (I was starting to crave vegetables, so they were much appreciated), and it was washed down with a nice bottle of Torrontés from Cafayate in the north west of Argentina (where I hope to go to later in my trip).<br />
<br />
In the afternoon we went round to Fernanda's house (one of Camila's friends whose graduation party I had been to on Friday night), for <i>mate </i>and <i>facturas </i>in the garden. We stayed there chatting for most of the evening (eating <i>emanadas </i>for dinner later on) before going to Cream & Cream (Monte Grande's prime <i>Heladeria</i>) for a late night ice-cream. All in all a very pleasant and relaxing day, mostly spent eating! :-)<br />
<br />
<b>Monday 29th November</b><br />
<br />
After the exertions of the weekend (we're talking late-night-style exertions rather than anything truely taxing: I'm on holiday, after all), Monday began very slowly. So slowly that I can't really remember what I did for most of the day. It probably involved lounging around, eating (naturally), speaking with various different people, checking e-mails and generally getting my energy back. The temperature was on the rise again, I remember that much, and the sun was shining. :-)<br />
<br />
In the late afternoon/evening, Martín, Camila and I went into Palermo SoHo (that's a district of Buenos Aires) for <i>picadas </i>(nibbles) and beer. It's a really nice area of the city, but a bit of a pain to get there (a combination of train and bus, which took about 2.5 hours door to door). Still, at least with good company the time goes quickly. I can't imagine having to commute like that every day though, which probably suggests that big city living isn't really for me!<br />
<br />
<b>Tuesday 30th November</b><br />
<br />
Sightseeing was back on the agenda today, although I woke up with a bit of a sore throat and felt a bit lethargic as a result. I must also have been rendered (even) more clumsy than usual because I managed to snap my old (spare) glasses while trying to reshape them! They broke clean in the middle (where the bridge joins the frame). Whoops. I just have to hope now that my main glasses remain intact for the whole trip (although I suppose it would be possible to get replacements if not).<br />
<br />
Anyway, despite feeling under-par I managed to make it into Buenos Aires (all alone this time). I spent the day wandering around La Boca, which is a mixture of slightly rough working-class <i>barrio </i>and tourist trap tat. Still, it was an interesting place and the PROA museum/gallery was beautiful and a nice air-conditioned refuge from the heat of the midday sun. After La Boca, I walked back up to the very centre of the city, perusing further streets in San Telmo and Monserrat, and taking plenty of photos:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/sidmouth11/BuenosAiresPartII">http://picasaweb.google.com/sidmouth11/BuenosAiresPartII</a> (in case you haven't already seen Part I, they are here: <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/sidmouth10/BuenosAires#">http://picasaweb.google.com/sidmouth10/BuenosAires</a><br />
<br />
The train journey back was less packed than usual and I managed to get a seat for once. This proved to be a potential curse (as well as a blessing), because I fell asleep (most unlike me - I must be ill!) and wondered where I was when I woke up. As it happened I was about 2 minutes away from Monte Grande. Luckily, I saw the sign just in time (still wondering if I was dreaming or not) and managed to leap out of my seat and off the train. Phew. That was a close shave (although there are only 2 stops after Monte Grande, so it wouldn't exactly have been a disaster, even if I had missed the stop and had to get the train back - especially as it only costs about 20p a journey).<br />
<br />
After a quick freshen up (desperately needed after trekking around in the heat), we went to Fernanda's birthday gathering (stopping to buy a present en route). It was a classic "birthday tea party", with cute little sandwiches, rolls and cakes (and the obligatory fizzy drinks, of course!). The tea party sort of rolled into the evening, with hot dogs and lemon-meringue-pie-birthday-cake (with candles). And it ended with Carla dropping her phone down the back of the armchair, which got completely stuck. It was rather funny, because you could hear it ringing, but there was no way of retrieving it. I don't know if they managed in the end because our taxi had arrived and we had to leave. If I receive any updates about the fate of the phone, I'll be sure to let you know!<br />
<br />
<b>Wednesday 1st December</b><br />
<br />
Well, here we are. It's now today and my cold has got a little bit worse (oh, the irony - in England it's minus a lot and here it's summer and I've gone and got myself a sore throat and a runny nose... go on, laugh why don't you!!!). This, combined with rising heat levels, has meant that I've stayed at (Cami's*) home so far today. I was chatting with Adrián earlier, and it now seems that we're going to meet up in Córdoba on Friday. This will entail getting the overnight bus from here on Thursday evening (it's about 10 hours), which will be an experience in itself. In a little while we are going to the travel agents to try and sort out the ticket (hopefully getting picked up from as close to here as possible, because the main bus station is rather a schlep).<br />
<br />
Right, that's it for now. Updates might get more sporadic and fragmented from now on. I'm not sure when I'll have decent computer access, but I'll do my best to keep you informed. For those of you in cooler climes: wrap up warm and enjoy the snow (if you've got any, that is - which is unlikely in Sidmouth, I guess).<br />
<br />
Best wishes to you all,<br />
Love James xx<br />
<br />
*I put this in afterwards because I realised that saying "home" made it sound like I'd got my feet well and truly under the table (but obviously it was just a subconcious way of saying how much I've been made to feel at home while I've been staying here). :-)Sidmouthianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01614140676551279937noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7767214.post-52806815791717284792010-12-01T15:40:00.000+00:002010-12-01T15:40:08.465+00:00Reflections on life in Argentina (after one week)...Cripes! Time flies when you're idle... It's already December. Happy month everyone! I hear Europe (the northern part, at least) is in the grip of a cold spell. Therefore it would be inconsiderate of me to brag about the fantastic weather we are having here at the moment. No-one likes a smug, self-centred so and so, do they? But, I can't resist... the weather has been gorgeous! The only time I felt the slightest bit chilly was at about 5 am on Sunday morning, when a southerly wind picked up and reduced the temperature to about 8 degrees. For anyone as meterologically nerdy as me you can have a look here and chart the weather's progress throughout my trip (I'm guessing that, Dad, you'll probably be the only one taking me up on this kind offer): <a href="http://www.weatheronline.co.uk/weather/maps/city?LANG=en&PLZ=_____&PLZN=_____&WMO=87576&ART=MIN&CONT=samk&R=0&LEVEL=150&REGION=0016&LAND=AG&MM=11&YY=2010&WEEK=2&NOREGION=1&MOD=&TMX=&TMN=&SON=&PRE=&MONAT=&OFFS=&SORT=">http://www.weatheronline.co.uk/weather/maps/city?LANG=en&PLZ=_____&PLZN=_____&WMO=87576&ART=MIN&CONT=samk&R=0&LEVEL=150&REGION=0016&LAND=AG&MM=11&YY=2010&WEEK=2&NOREGION=1&MOD=&TMX=&TMN=&SON=&PRE=&MONAT=&OFFS=&SORT=</a><br />
<br />
Moving on from the weather, I thought it was time for a few observations about life in Argentina. First impressions, if you like:<br />
<br />
<ul><li>Actually, I'll move on from the weather in a minute, because first I have one last nugget of infomation that I want to share (I can almost hear the yawns from here!). What's been most interesting thing weather-wise, so far (for me), is that there was a sudden (and quite dramatic) drop in temperature between Friday and Saturday, of about 20 degrees (if you're Italian this will explain why I've now got a bit of cold, if you're not then you can blame a slightly weakened immune system brought on by a change of environment, some late nights and a host of new, exotic viruses, waiting to attack me). Anyway, this type of temperature change is quite normal here, apparently. It happens when the wind changes direction - we're not so far from Antarctica, after all):</li>
<li>People here seem to have a major aversion to fruit and vegetables. I don't think I've seen a single person consume a piece of fruit since I've arrived. Oh, actually, we did eat some strawberries once, but they had to be doused in sugar to render them palatable! ;-)</li>
<li>The tea party is alive and well in Argentina! Fancy little sandwiches, cakes (<i>facturas</i>) and (instead of tea) oceans of <i>gaseosas </i>(fizzy pop). I guess Argentina must be the biggest consumer of fizzy drinks in the world. It's no wonder that Coca-Cola is such a successful company. They must make billions out of Argentina alone. ;-)</li>
<li>And talking of sweet things, they just love sugar in general. <i>Dulce de leche</i> is quite possibly the sweetest substance known to mankind and they use it in/on just about everything. That's not to say I don't like it, just that you can.</li>
<li>Lots of people here drink <i>mate </i>(not you, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: grey; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><a class="" data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/user.php?id=1230861937" href="http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1230861937" style="color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: underline;">Máté</a></span>). It's a kind of bitter infusion (from a relative of the holly bush). I don't think it's narcotic (at least I haven't noticed any effects), but it's quite a good digestive (no, not a biscuit) and I rather like the whole ceremony attached to it. One person is the <i>cebador </i>(i.e. the person who serves the <i>mate</i>). They pour hot (but not boiling) water onto the dried leaves (which are traditionally contained in a gourd), and the tea is drunk through a metal straw, which mustn't be (re)moved until the session is finished. Each person drinks the mate until the liquid has gone, and then the <i>cerbador </i>refills it and passes it to the next person. You need to change the <i>mate</i> once it starts floating to the surface. Oh, and you don't say <i>gracias </i>until you've had enough, which for a polite Englishman is an exercise in restraint.</li>
<li>Everyone warns me about how potentially dangerous things are (and I'm not saying it's not, but rather that I haven't felt in immediate danger so far). They must consider the risk of crime to be quite high, though, because everyone has bars on their windows and avoids walking around at night. But I'm not sure its much worse than parts of England. I wonder if it's mainly because Argentinians consider Europe to be virtually crime-free, and worry that we are a bit wet-behind-the-ears as a result. As someone who has experienced 3 burglaries and 2 black-eyes, survived 2 weeks travelling with a con-artist (<a href="http://sidmouthian.blogspot.com/2007/01/asylum-diaries-aka-ryan-saga.html">http://sidmouthian.blogspot.com/2007/01/asylum-diaries-aka-ryan-saga.html</a>) and foiled a potential bag-snatch in Marseille, I hope I am reasonably vigilent and not too naive a traveller. Obviously I don't wish to tempt fate (and will remain suspicious [not to say paranoid] at all times) but as a naturally worrier, I don't really need people to make me even more anxious than I already am (but I do appreciate their concern and efforts to make me safe and happy)!</li>
<li>People are very friendly and curious to meet and talk to "<i>el inglés</i>". Which is nice.</li>
<li>Lots of things remind me of southern Italy: eating very late (never before 9pm), not going out until well after midnight, going to bed at 7am, going out for an ice-cream at midnight, not drinking as much as the British (but drinking more than the average Italian), going to the beach for a month in the summer (everything stopping for the whole of January). </li>
<li>However, it's like a slightly Americanised version of Italy (the grid-system, more convenience food, fewer long-standing traditions, a corrupted version of the language ;-), reliance on the motor car [oh, that's the same as both Italy and America!]...) </li>
<li>People drink wine with ice and/or sparkling water! </li>
<li>At birthday parties people play a strange game involving dropping a mobile phone down the back of an armchair and then attempting to get it back out again. This game can last for at least an hour, and is a bit like a Krypton Factor mental agility challenge.</li>
<li>Everyone's mother owns a school.</li>
<li>Lots of people seem to both work and study, which I suppose is a reality of the modern world and makes me realise how easy I had it when I was at university.</li>
</ul><div>Well, that's enough for now. It hopefully gives you a taste of life here, at least. I'll be back later with the more prosaic details of the last few days...</div><div><br />
</div><div>J xx</div>Sidmouthianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01614140676551279937noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7767214.post-71286784339285855202010-11-28T00:19:00.001+00:002010-11-28T01:54:03.033+00:00Getting the blog back on trackHello again. I've decided to get the blog up-to-date whatever happens today, even if it means writing a haiku or a one-word summary of the last few days. It'll probably start with a flourish and end with a whimper, but at least I'll be able to go out this evening relaxed in the knowledge that I've done as much as I can to keep you posted.<br />
<br />
Right, Tuesday is probably going to be more detailed, because it was the last day I actually wrote an entry in my diary, so let's start with that (I can just copy it word for word!):<br />
<br />
<b>Tuseday 23rd November 2010</b><br />
<br />
After a good night's sleep I woke up to an empty house, well almost empty, because Amalia, the cleaner, was downstairs. I had been warned about this the night before, plus the fact that I would need my best Spanish to communicate, so it didn't come as a total shock. Well, I managed to understand when she asked if I was having breakfast inside or out (outside, obviously!) and from there our conversation progressed onto the good old stand-by topic of the weather.<br />
<br />
After breakfast (Italian style) I went to meet Axel at the hotel where he works. It's a lovely boutiquey place only a few blocks from where Camila lives (I'm having to get used to everything being in blocks here, much like in the USA). We then went to the bank (successful extraction of Pesos) before heading back to Camila's for lunch. After lunch I spent a while catching up on internetty stuff (wow, this is informative stuff... I'm even boring myself here!) before Martín and Juliette came proferring cakes. OMG, what an abundance of goodness! I managed 3 with a cup of tea (thus allowing this little rhyme). Martín ate eight! Yes, you read that right. It is one more than seven.<br />
<br />
I had previously agreed with Axel to go out with him, Carolina and Lourdes for an aperitif. So, no sooner had I licked my lips clean of sugar, than I was sat in a pavement cafe in Los Lomitas, drinking an artisanal beer (a lovely caramel/honey-tasting fruity affair) and consuming "picada" (a vast board of meats and cheeses + olives, crisps, peanuts and aubergine [not a whole, raw aubergine (obviously), but pieces, cooked and marinated in oil and vinegar, and a bit too much salt!]).<br />
<br />
Then, just in case I wasn't already full enough, it was back to Camila's in time for dinner. If I carry on eating at this rate, I will exceed the rate of weight gain that I achieved in Italy (which in itself was a staggering 3kg in 2 weeks). If I keep going at this rate, that equates to at least 2 stone(s) over the course of my trip. Instead of writing this diary entry, I felt I should have gone for a long walk instead, but lethargy overcame me and I decided to go for a calorie-burning 9-hour sleep instead. Tomorrow: el Capital!<br />
<br />
<b>Wednesday 24th November</b><br />
<br />
After a glorious uninterrupted sleep (I have slept so well in Cami's room, it has been wonderful, for which I owe her a massive debt of gratitude - Thank you!), I went with Martín (who had kindly offered to accompany me) to get the train into the centre. I had been warned about how dirty, congested and generally unpleasant it was, but I have to say it was no worse than the London Underground. And, of course, there is the added benefit of it being a cultural insight into the place that I am visiting (Cumbia music and ambulant sellers being prime examples)!<br />
<br />
After saying goodbye to Martín - he had to go and sit an exam, I walked up Av. 9 July (otherwise known as "My Birthday Avenue" - which also happens to be Independence Day in Argentina) to the obelisk and then back down to Cami's university to meet her after her exam (exam season is in full swing in Argentina at the moment, as it is approaching the end of the academic year). As befits the widest avenue in the world, it was very wide indeed. And very busy too! My first impressions were of a hectic modern city, teeming with life.<br />
<br />
After we met up, we walked north, via Plaza Libertad, The Palace of Justice and Teatro Colon, to Plaza San Martín. Here, Cami said goodbye (to go to work at her mother's school - every mother owns a school in Monte Grande - or, from the people I have met, so it seems!). I then proceeded to explore the centre, Puerto Madero and San Telmo, before getting the train back (all by myself - which everyone was terribly impressed by, given my apparent naiviety and innocence abroad!!!). I was probably most impressed with Puerto Madero (modern expansiveness, with some beautiful new parks), and San Telmo (historic quaintness with Tango Dancers in the central square). But I also really like Plaza San Martín, which boasts (god, that sounds like a brochure!) a very large tree in the centre and the glorious blue flames of Jacaranda trees all around. Naturally, the lack of public toilets of course causes me a few problems (god, that sounds like I've got bona fide prostate problems!), but I'm managing, through a mixture of enforced dehydration and making the most of any opportunity that arises!<br />
<br />
For a bit more colour and detail re the above, I can let the photos do the talking: <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/sidmouth10/BuenosAires#">http://picasaweb.google.com/sidmouth10/BuenosAires#</a><br />
<br />
I was pretty tired in the evening, so I am assuming that after dinner (al fresco - <i>que lindo!</i>) we didn't do very much (apart from sit around and chat). However, when it is so balmy (and the air fragrant with jasmine), sitting around chatting is a lovely thing to do...<br />
<br />
<b>Thursday 25th November</b><br />
<br />
Thursday was a virtual repeat of Wednesday, albeit in a different area of the city and with the company of Martín for more of the day. Again, we got the train into the centre together (this time it was free [because they didn't have any change!] instead of the extortionate sum of 1.35 pesos [about 20p]). This time I had the added adventure of getting the underground [1.10 pesos] and took in the sights of Retiro, Recoleta and Palermo (the highlights of which were the cemetery and the botanical gardens). However, I enjoyed the relative opulence of Recoleta and Palermo, where the tree-lined avenues reminded me of Paris and Rome (the newer bits) respectively. Oh, and the underground was also free on the way back (this time because the electronic gates weren't working). I'm doing well from the already well-state-subsidised public transport system.<br />
<br />
Cami's Milanesas in the evening were a culinary triumph, and I once again went to bed full and tired after a busy but fulfilling day. Oh, yes, and I also went to visit Amelia's English school before dinner (Amelia is the lady who organises the Argentinian trip to S.I.S.). Much like when I was in Locorotondo, I was invited to play an active role in a lesson, speaking to the students and getting an interesting insight into what life is like in an overseas language school (as it happens it reminded me a lot of Italy, which Argentina is managing to do in many ways!)<br />
<br />
<b>Friday 26th November</b><br />
<br />
Nursing still-sore feet from the previous two days, I decided to take it easy on Friday and spend the day in Monte Grande (at least during the day). In the afternoon I went to Carolina's mother's school, where I spoke to some of the teachers and students. It was a nice afternoon (very hot too - the temperature has been on the increase since I arrived, along with a lot of sunshine [I burnt my nose and neck walking around the city] - reaching 32 degrees on Friday). There seem to be a lot of small private schools in Monte Grande, but I think it's just a co-incidence that I've met 3 people whose mothers own 3 different schools!<br />
<br />
After a mid-afternoon ice-cream stop (dulce de leche and walnut and bitter chocolate - yum!), in the evening we went round to one of Cami's friend's houses (Tincho), for pizza and drinks (Fernet Branca and coke, an Argentinian classic!), prior to going to another friend's graduation party in a bar/nightclub in Palermo. In true Argentinian style we didn't get to the club until 2am and I managed to stay the distance until 6am (sweating buckets in the process... I don't think the temperature dropped much from the peak it had reached during the day). Still, despite being rather a late night for me (according to the others it was early - they don't usually get back until 8am!), it was a lot of fun. The club and the company were both great, so I didn't mind losing a few hours sleep in the process!<br />
<br />
<b>Saturday 27th November</b><br />
<br />
Saturday started slowly after such a late night (early morning), but soon picked up pace when we went out for lunch. We had asado (number 2!), which comprised the following:<br />
<br />
Matambre (a special cut of beef, stuffed with a filling, rather like your stuffed breast of lamb, Mum!)<br />
Vacío (another cut of beef)<br />
Chinculines (chitterlings - your favourite, Dad, and Cami's dad's favourite too!)<br />
Morcilla (black pudding)<br />
Chorizo (I hope you all know what that is - although it's a little bit different from it's Spanish cousin)<br />
Molleja (sweetbreads - which aren't testicles [a common misapprehension] but a gland found in the neck of a cow, I believe - although I'm happy to stand corrected by any butchery expects out there)<br />
Red peppers (for a token veg content!)<br />
<br />
It was all delicious and accompanied by a couple of different salads and red wine (of course). We then visited some elderly relatives of Cami's family, which was interesting as they were former grocers and still had the old-fashioned grocery shop (sadly now closed) attached. It was like a walk down memory lane (meat-slicers and scales bringing back assorted childhood memories)...<br />
<br />
I'm now writing this prior to another late night (this time a party/gathering at Monte Grande Rugby Club). But before that I'm going to make dinner and have something to drink...<br />
<br />
I hope all is well with you.<br />
<br />
Best wishes,<br />
James xxSidmouthianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01614140676551279937noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7767214.post-90734317649660777542010-11-26T21:02:00.003+00:002010-11-27T23:00:41.079+00:00Actually telling you something about Argentina (maybe)Afternoon folks.<br />
<br />
I've got precisely 30 minutes before going out for an ice-cream (to help bridge the gap between lunch and the late Argentinian dinner). You'll be pleased to hear that "<i>operation weight-gain</i>" is proceeding nicely! So, as I sit here, laying down fat into my adipose tissue, I'm going to start telling you about what's happened since I left you last time (on the way to the airport). Without further ado, here goes:<br />
<br />
<b>Sunday 21st November 2010 (continued)</b><br />
<br />
...it was a bit of a long wait at the aiport (4 hours of trying not to fall asleep and miss my flight), but I must say that I felt at home in Terminal 1 (after what must be more than 30 or 40 Saturdays over the last couple of years, already idled away there). I did the obligatory perfume-testing, loitered around in case of whisky tasting (there was none) and generally mooched around to kill the time.<br />
<br />
The flight left more or less on time and was okay but no more (Qatar and Singapore's respective airlines have clearly spoilt me). 3 stars, at a push. The meal/drink service was cursory to say the least, but I did manage to procure a red wine and a (large) whisky, so that helped to knock me out. I even managed a solid 3-hour stretch of kip at one point, which must surely be some kind of record for a male member of the Wood family.<br />
<br />
The flight was generally uneventful (not even that much turbulence to get excited about), but I was sat next to an interesting character. He is what I can only describe as a Brazilian boxer/cage-fighter, which I am obviously guessing at (we had no formal communication), but judging by his rude manner ("oi, more coke" to the flight attendant), buldging biceps and the fact that he punched me a couple of times while I was sleeping would seem to hint in this direction. But, (in the words of the passenger arriving back home from Lanzarote last December) I survived!<br />
<br />
<b>Monday 22nd November 2010</b><br />
<br />
I arrived at Sao Paulo airport about 2 hours ahead of schedule, which meant a rather long wait for my connecting flight. The airport didn't provide much of an insight into Brazil, although there were some fantastically atmospheric views of the surrounding favelas on the way out. And OMG, the city is HUGE. It goes on forever. Wow.<br />
<br />
Unforunately, despite having an optimally-located window seat (no wing to obscure the view - well, obviously the plane had a wing - two of them, in fact - but I was sat near the back) it was cloudy most of the way down to B.A. It did break up a bit over the River Plate, so I could see the beast of a (brown) river making its mighty way out to sea (also brown, albeit slightly less so). And then B.A. was sprawled out below, seemingly as vast as S.P. We landed slightly ahead of schedule and I have to say the flight was a vast improvement on the first leg. There was even a choice of food this time (chicken or meat). I assumed the meat was some kind of Brazilian bush-meat/road-kill (or at least, something without a name), so I went for the chicken instead. Accompanied by red wine (obtained after a lengthy exchange - me: "red wine, please", hostess: "water?", me: "no, red wine, please", hostess: eh?, me: "RED WINE", hostess "quizzicle expression", me: *points to bottle*...). We got there in the end, and it was rather a nice Argentinian Malbec at that.<br />
<br />
So, we land and wait on the tarmac for what seems like an eternity (obviously getting a bit excited at this point). And then, after worrying about being stopped by immigration and customs (for no particular reason - just officialdom-inspired paranoia), I found myself in the arrivals hall before I knew it.<br />
<br />
Carina was the first person I saw, swiftly followed by Axel, Camila and Lourdes (in alphabetical order, so as not to discriminate). Needless to say I was very happy to see them on my first (ever) day in South America. They dropped me off at Camila's house in Monte Grande (not far from the airport), where I had a quick shower (and sit down) before we headed over to Camila's Aunt's house for her birthday party. It's quite different from Monte Grande (which is a proper town, albeit attached to Buenos Aires). It was a nice modern house on a gated compound, with lovely wooded grounds. We were a bit late for lunch (it was my second of the day - having had the first one on the plane at about 10am). It was a typical Argentinian asado (BBQ) - gorgeous meat washed down with a very nice bottle of Patagonian Cabernet Sauvignon/Merlot (not the whole bottle - I'm not that bad - at least, not on the first day). So, just over 2 hours in the country and I had already experienced my first asado/red wine combination. And the hospitality extended to me was amazing. Everyone was so welcoming, I cannot describe how well they managed to put me at ease (my first few hours on the continent and I already felt at home).<br />
<br />
After eating we went for a walk around the complex, admiring the trees and plants (which looked lovely in their late spring glory - this reminds me of the "don't the trees look beautiful at this time of year" taxi incident in Durham!). It seemed strange leaving in late autumn and arriving in late spring. But, obviously a very good kind of strange. The weather was bright and warm (low 20s I would guess). A nice gentle introduction, indeed. After birthday cake and bubbly we drove back to Camila's house, at which point we had a light shower, just so that I didn't feel too homesick!<br />
<br />
Dinner was empanadas (Argentinian pasties) and I stuck it out until 10:30pm before collasping into bed. In summary, after a long and tiring journey I found a fanstastic welcome waiting for me at the other end. Things bode very well indeed....<br />
<br />
Well, it's ice-cream time! I'm going to have to be more concise with future updates, because I'm already 4 days behind schedule! Whoops (that's whoops as is "oh dear", rather than whoops as in "makes sound like an American expressing mild interest"). So much for good intentions!<br />
<br />
I hope all is well with you in a cold and snowy England (sorry... I feel a bit guilty, but I only escaped the winter, I didn't create it!).<br />
<br />
Best wishes,<br />
Love J xxSidmouthianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01614140676551279937noreply@blogger.com0