BA Baracus

There has been an on going joke for the last 6 weeks, each time we've had a bad meal, a crap hostel, a horrible journey, that Buenos Aries will be the promised land. We had high hopes for the capital of Argentina, so much so we allotted 8 nights to BA. For me personally it was nice to get back in to the city after so long in the car and stopping in ghost towns. We'd enjoyed the natural beauty of Argentina and now it was time for some urban sprawl.

Caz had been most excited out of us all to get here. Her infamous WGSN report on the city had got her worked in to a social nirvana. She knew where all the best bars and restaurants where. One district in particular had caught her attention.

Palermo... It didn't take longer than an hour to realize how awesome Palermo was. The old colonial buildings blended elegantly with the street art (not graffiti), a plethora of street cafes and funky boutique shops. It was shaping into everything we had hoped for.

Then the bubble burst. Our first hostel had been way down the ratings list on hostel bookers but because of demand, all the top hostels were fully booked. We assumed this was just due to it being a capital city and getting closer to the southern hemisphere's summer time. We'd managed to get 7 nights sorted in two nice hostels but our very first night was in Hostel +1. -10 would be more appropriate. They informed us that hostel bookers had not sent any reservations through to them. Of course our confirmation email from hostel bookers carried no weight if they didn't receive anything and our argument fell on deaf ears.
We believe that they gave our booking away to a stranded previous occupant.

Whilst Nikki and Rich scoured the area for alternative cheap accommodation and I got back on my beloved iPad. Both of us were unsuccessful in finding anywhere with vacancies. Nikki had come across an unassuming boutique hotel but the mentioned price was way out of our price league so we continued searching. It got to 5pm and it wasnt looking good. In our pending homeless crises we thought it was time for a drink. We found a bar and united in our injustice managed to enjoy a cold beer and strawberry Daquires in the searing heat of the afternoon while
the -10 manager tried to find us an alternative.

Maybe it was the heat or perhaps the alcohol but we contemplated the expensive abode that Nikki had found earlier, but to our surprise upon returning to +1 we now had an alternative hostel. We checked the hostels professional pictures against trip advisors travelers pictures. The new hostel was disgusting, even the hapless manager acknowledge how bad it was. We thanked him for nothing and decided to indulge ourselves.

"Just when we thought we were out...." Herman the hotel manager greeted us in to Francis Ford Coppolas Buenos Aires house. That's right! The unassuming boutique hotel turned out to be the Godfather directors' BA retreat. The appeal to stay here was heightened immeasueably - $285 per night ... Yeah no problem. We actually managed to get him down to $200 per couple per night as I think Herman took quite a shine to us. There was just the small matter of divvying up the rooms. Although both exceptionally nice, one was larger than the other. The coin gods shone in our favor so Caz and I happily moved in to large room with the balcony.

The rooms oozed class. The cotton sheets were nicer than anything I've had before never mind compared to the past 8 weeks of hosteling. TV could have been a bit bigger and flatter but we weren't there to watch Spanish soap operas. We unanimously decided it would be a shame to not take advantage of luxury so after a very nice Thai meal and frozen yoghurt desert, we retired to our repective rooms and crashed..the best night sleep yet!

No man can resist a pan au chocolat however masculine they may posture and especially if for the past 6 weeks you have made do with Dolce de Leche (basically caramel spread) on bread every morning. But wait, what about strawberry, kiwi, mango and apple fruit salad. Perhaps some ham and cheese which was waiting for us. Cereal perhaps instead? We were in breakfast heaven. Hands down the best breakfast in months. As we scoffed and consumed lots of coffee (and finally tea again for Caz) Herman got his map out and told us the parts of the city to see.

He may have started to regret his hospitality when we encamped in the spanish styled courtyard sipping coffee and skyping home well into the afternoon. But we eventually said our good byes and checked in to Che Lulu which was also in the Palermo district. It was Sunday and we had been told of the San Telmo market that wasn't to be missed. It was packed not only with people and tango dancers but also with vintage tat. Swords, pocket watches, monocles anything you could think of. It was an endless shopping trip and it DID count as girly shopping time, yet it was Rich who ended up buying anything.

The next morning we felt that a run would benefit us all. Rich and Nikki had the full running regallier on where as Caz and I had to make do with our Converse trainers. Big mistake blisters soon set in. We ventured out that afternoon and went our separate ways (shock horror). Nikki needed to get her Swatch watch fixed so went off on the hunt for a Swatch store, while Caz was desperate to do some shopping in Palermo.

A few weeks before in Salta, Damien our friend from hostel Prisamata told me in broken English about an orchestra were the conductor used finger signals to direct the percussion band. Over lunch Caz and I looked up the name online and found they were playing that night. The write up got us very excited and we sought out tickets immediately. When Nikki and Rich caught up with us that night we told the, of the plans and had half and hour to drink some beers and head out the Konex building in San Telmo.

What a night.. The place was packed and on stage was a 17 piece percussion band. Bongos, bass drums, miraccas, shakers all fused together with the rise and fall of the conductors pinkey. Well a little more than that but the Africa/samba rhythms got hold of us and we were soon sipping litre glasses of beer and sex on the beach for Nikki in the outdoor venue. We really felt part of something special and yet it was a typical Monday night for the BA faithful. We noticed there was a special 5 year anniversary gig the coming Saturday. We knew were we'd be! This night wasn't over though and we headed to the after show party at a nearby club with some new friends Luckas and Esquel...

The next morning wasn't particularly productive but we managed a walk around the shops in Palermo. You'd have thought we hadn't seen a clothing shop in years. Later in the afternoon we had to move to our new home which was America del Sur in San Telmo district. This hostel was rated the best in BA and top three in South America. We were still completely shattered from the previous night so we decided we'd go to the local cinema.

On Thursday we went on a city tour with our hostel guide who set off around San Telmo pointing out the old colonial houses, national cartoon figures and then gave us our first taste of not only the busses but the infamous Boca district. Boca catered for tourists but only in a very specific area. Literally two blocks was the area we were permitted to venture safely. But what a great two blocks. Such colorful houses. A little touristy but we were really glad we got to see it with a guide. However we suspect this was were Caroline's second bubble burst. Feeling adventurous we thought we'd try some cows instine off a BBQ. The initial taste was scrumptious. But then a few crunches in to the mouthful and out oozed something from within it. We weren't sure if this was left over filling or purposely stuffed instine. We suspect the former and Caz had most of the scarcely eaten dish.

Our hostel offered many tours and one that caught Rich's eye was a graffetti tour around our beloved Palermo district. It should be distinguished that what we saw wasn't really graffetti but street art. We learnt about all the political influence behind most of what we just thought was cool looking graphics. One scuber diver that we saw everywhere was based an old anti government character from the 50's and 60's and even though the fictional tales involved extra terrestrials, it was widely known that this was a euphemism for the oppressive dictatorship in power during this time. What was even more interesting was that a favored president from the 80's amongst Argentinians had his face replace the original characters face in an ironic twist of the graphic.

Our tour guide was obviously passionate about the street art we saw and a few hours in to the trip she chanced a studio stop at a major BA artist called Ever. Not only was he here creating a new canvas but we were permitted to go in and talk to some of the other artists all milling around the studio. We felt very privileged to get so close to the artists and be allowed in to their private domains after seeing there street works. The tour ended at a funky floor to ceiling graffiti art bar where we stayed for the rest of the night.

The next day Caroline was struck down. I won't go in to details but she couldn't be more than 10 meters from a bathroom and she wasn't being sick. Nikki and Rich ventured out for another city tour where as I stayed with Caz at the hostel and watched really girly rom coms.. Urgh! That's all I can really contribute about that day but it was a very frustrating one at that.

We wondered if she could brave a walk the next day but having made it to street corner she turned and ran right back. It really wasn't nice to see her get upset. She had been so excited about Buenos Aires and now she was confinded to the hostel tv room (and bathrooms). I was told not to waste my day again and so I went with Rich and Nikki to see the really old subway carriages still in use on the A line. We passed an Italian day festival which celebrated the large Italian community that arrived in then 20's similar but not as well known as the mass influx to NYC during the same period. Apparently there was a pink palace in my clear view but some how managed to completely miss it to Nikki's amazement later that night.

We had a mission to get Saturday's La Bomba de Tiempo tickets too so we headed back to the Konex via another subway line. We were optimistic the Caz would be able to come so we bought her one in case she improved enough in her condition. Having managed to get in contact with her we arranged to meet up with Caz at the Recoleta cemetery were Evita was buried. The graveyard was rammed full of massive morseliums each more impressive than the last. Evita's was rather subdued compared to some in there. Rich and Nikki then went back to Boca to go to a gallery where Ever and other street artists were displaying their new work including what we saw him creating the day before.

We shared our opptimism with Caz about the state of her health but her mind had been made up. She wasnt right still and she had a date with the Vampires at the cinema. Tonight's la bomba started at 12am and went on to 6am so we caught a power nap before heading back to the Konex. Tonight's show had been moved in to the old warehouse were as last time it had been outdoors. We assumed it would be to appease the neighbors since tonight's show was going on to the early hours. The show was spilt on to three parts with three different conductors. This added a new element to the show. The 2nd conductor was much more upbeat and involved the crowd with call and response rythms between the band and ourselves. They also introduced new artists such as a female singer and then a keyboard player and lastly a bass player. It was somehow even better this the first time. This was partly due to being moved indoors as opposed to the sounds escaping in to the open air. Before we knew it, it was 5:30am so we got in a cab and scuttled back to the hostel and crashed.

The next morning was a complete write off. I didn't get up until gone 1pm and so the day wasn't particularly eventful... Yet -- The whole time we had been in BA we had wanted to get tickets to the notorious Boca Juniors game (football). We had earmarked the day and even extended our stay to accommodate their next home game. But the game had so much importance on it, for one it was against neighbors Racing but if Boca won or drew then they effectively won the championship. Due to hooliganism and safety concerns, tickets had been withdrawn from the general public and only opened to Boca members only. So we contemplated watching it in a bar if only to absorb the intensity surrounding the game.

As I entered the lift in the hostel to go back upstairs, a hand stopped the closing door and the receptionist, whom had tried to get us tickets earlier in the week, asked me if we still wanted to go but they only had two tickets available and we would be picked up in 10 minutes. I agreed immediately and soon Rich and I were bundled on to a gringo bus by an energetic female Boca tour guide who didn't speak hardly any English. As the bus cut through the busy traffic around then stadium and we listen to the cautious does and don'ts of attending this game, we felt like we were being briefed on combat and heading to the front line with the other new recruits. We gathered we'd be sitting with the Racing fans and we were not to sing any Boca songs. Don't celebrate if Boca score, no makeup, deoderant or alcohol allowed in the stadium and ciggrette lighters should be stuffed in your socks ... and generally don't look anyone in the eye.

We were not sure what to expect and to be fair, we were bricking it. If the Boca ultras ambushed us with the Racing fans, would we be spared as tourists or get an extra kicking for being a gringo?! As it happens, security was tight outside the stadium. After a speedy few beers in a bar with police presence outside we were herded through the Boca neighborhood we had seen the other day and after 2 police check points with random alcohol breath testing we got to the stadium. We were an hour and a half early and the reserves were playing to a quarter full stadium. We managed to squeeze past some locals and found some "seats" or concrete blocks, since it was all terraces in most of the stadium. Seats would have been rather useless anyhow since nobody was seated throughout the entire match.

Before long the stadium was packed and the Racing fans were trading pleasantries with the nearest Boca fans through the iron fence and across the police divide. It didnt take long to realize that the word Puta wasn't a friendly "good evening" to your neighbor gesture. Another strange gesture with the thumb slapping the opposite palm didn't look friendly either never mind the 50+ old man energetically poking his index in and out of his circled thumb and index. How juvenile!

Then the noise really started. The Racing fans were in full voice first. Presumably since they had been shepherded in to the ground first. The chants were ferocious and coupled with the pounding bass drum it felt like a medieval battle was about to ensue. The Boca fans across the opposite section was where they housed their crazy fans went. It was emmense to see the sea of people jump and make a human ripple effect. It ws living up to the must see BA attraction. By now our view had been impaired by the Racing youth who in a desperate attempt for a better view had scaled the iron fences and taken a rather uncomfortable position hanging from the sides for the whole game. We could still see 3/4 of the pitch though and neither Rich nor I were in any mood to ask them to get down.

The game was really tight with not many chances on goal. There were plenty of cries of injustice to the referee who I felt was actually a little bias to Boca. Time for the flares. I hope the Boca fan beneath us in the stadium were wearing hats because the Racing fans began throwing them over the edge still lit and the netting did little to prevent it. At times I hoped the old stadium had regular structural analysis testing because I didn't know concrete could sway that much without cracking. We rocked back and forth for most of the match under the weight of the ecstatic fans. A goal might have sent us over the edge. Unfortunately there wasn't a goal to witness any extra carnage but we were still enthralled with the atmosphere. Hands down the most passionately attended event I have ever seen.

The next morning was time to say goodbye to Argentina which had hosted us for nearly a month. BA had been a true highlight stop for everyone except poor Caz who was feeling a little better but still not ready for food. We boarded the ferry to Colonia in Uruguay and soon the city disappeared beyond the horizon.

Ciao for now...

-Mike et al

Uruguay

After being hostel bound for the last few days I was happy to leave the promised land. I promise to return to BA one day but for now I was happy to board the ferry to Uruguay..destination Punta Del Este. One confiscated penknife later we were all abroad and setting sail. We docked in Colonia..and old town we'd been told was beautiful and a must see. Seen as it was on route anyway we stayed one night to have a look. We met an english couple in their late fifties from Nottingham who were backpacking too. Walking around town was quiet. It was an old town that had a small lighthouse which was the number 2 top thing to go see. That kind of sums up Colonia really! I ate my first meal for a few days of boiled rice and soy which made me feel perkier and mike had the worlds weirdest salad combination ever, but things started to look up when we had drinks in 'The Drug Store' bar (and the first place that had pepper on the table) before heading back to freshen up at the hostel where things plummeted again when we met Jesus. A Texan freak who preached at Rich and I about him getting messages from god for a good 40mins. We escaped our for tea at 10pm finally getting in the swing of South Americas eating habits, to find just one restaurant still open.

The next day we bus to the capital Montevideo. Our funkiest hostel right on the central high street decorated with retro furniture and huge murals on the giant walls. We wander out for some food and to look round the old town, grabbing a bite to eat in the main square first. This was also the day i found my ring. We hadn't looked anywhere and had briefly said we'd buy in New York when we got back, but as we sat in the square I went for a quick wander while the food came. It spotted a jewellers - the first jewellers I've looked at or even noticed this trip, then before I knew it i was pressing the bell to go inside, asking to look at their rings. A lady brought out a tray and I instantly spotted it. Next thing I know I'm going back to the square and telling mike I'd seen a ring. I could tell from the three faces looking back at me their thinking 'here we go' but they humour me anyway to come see. (I think I was too giddy for their curiosity) Mike and I went off followed shorty by Nik and Rich for a quick peek. In we go to the lovely little jewellers, the lady and I were both giddy awaiting Mikes reaction. He loved it too and was grinning from ear to ear. It felt a bit spontaneous to buy the first ring I saw but it seemed to pick me instead of the other way round. It needed resizing so we arranged to pick it up later that day while the technician got to work. Nikki and Rich returned from a wander just as we left the store. Pleased as punch we headed for the old town.

It was a lovely city with a long pier we had a wander down. Nikki got herself into a mood (she still doesn't know what it was about) so we split up again for her to have a leg and armpit waxing session that actually doubled up as therapy to snap her back to earth. Mike and I went to collect my beautiful little piece of bling, and all was good again.

That night we went for a steak house recommended by our 50+ Colonia friends and ended the night in a roudy Irish bar next to our hostel with a brilliant live double act blaring out some golden oldies. (Drewski you would have been proud!) A great end to an ace day!

Next we headed to our main destination in Uruguay. Championed by me I was hoping it would live up to the reputation id given it. We took an overpriced taxi to our hostel and meet Rodrigo, the long blonde surf dude with an attitude, and his lovely chilled wife Alejandro. It was basically their house with a anex in their garden with 5/6 rooms they rented out. Nikki and Rich paid a bit more for the luxury double with a balcony and TV, Mike and I in the cheap twin. Mike and Rodders off to a bad start when he told him he had the same mouth as John Travolta (which was a spot on observation) so we quickly left and headed straight to the beach which was our best so far. The boys keen to get surfing this was the first thing we did the next morning with Rodders taking them on a lesson. Rod picking Rich as his pupil, while Mike was given to Rods mate to be taught the ropes. Mike managed to get up first time and Rich followed a few waves later. They both managed a few more stand ups before they were washed up on the beach exhausted. Mike feeling sick from the sea salt and Nikkis burnt legs meant a few hrs later it was time to head back to our guest house (don't call it a hostel or you'll upset Rodrigo) and opted in for the BBQ Rodders was cooking. It turned out to be the best meat they had eaten so far this trip, making me who opted out due to delicate tummy still feel food envy. The next day was a similar pattern but this time we rented bikes to a further secluded beach followed by a second night of Rodders BBQ which this time I opted in for. It didn't disappoint, though despite Mikes many olive branch him and Rod still didn't bond.

We left with a pack up each of fruit for our next big bus journey to Brazil. Punta del Este didn't disappoint and our tans are now well underway.

Lots of love to all at home!!
C xxx

Road Trippin

Having had a taste of Argentina's lake district we decided to head further down south to Patagonia. After picking up the car (an impressive Chevrolet Corsa 1.4L, 5 door, 0-60 in at least 7.5 minutes) our first stop was the hippy town of El Bolson (or El Bonson as we seemed determined to call it) 2 hours south of Bariloche.

Mike, the nominated sole driver (to save the pennies and at least attempt to stick to the traveller's budget), got us on the way on the much lauded route 44, South America's answer to Route 66. It definitely lived up to this as we followed crystal clear lakes, in green forests with a backdrop of snow capped mountains. We arrived in El Bolson impressed, after sunset and were promptly chased down the dirt track to the hostel by a pack of stray dogs. Risking our lives was definitely worth it as we were rewarded with nice rooms and an open fire all to ourselves to enjoy some well earned drinks.

The next morning we had a look round the gardens of the hostel which had a stream running through them and the obligatory massive BBQ. Our first wrong turn of the trip (definitely no fault of the navigator) meant we missed a planned stop off to walk to one of the summits and view points. To make amends we decided to take the scenic route through Parque Nacional Los Alerces despite the warnings about unfinished roads and banditos (the tourist information guys clearly did not appreciate the Corsa or our driving/navigating abilities). The pretentious name was definitely justified as the road wound through the park and past blue and emerald lakes and lovely views. We tried to get down to the lake but couldn't because there were so many trees (made a note to feed this back to the park rangers that they should chop some trees down so we could get a decent view). Finally found a place to scramble/fall with style down the scree to the lake side and enjoy the sun and amazing view of the lakes and mountains. Nikki managed to get caught in the landslide and take another slight nick to her shin, although was very brave and barely mentioned it to any of us! Spurred on by the adrenaline 3/4's of the group braved the icy cold water and managed to destroy the serenity of the park making sure everyone knew just how cold it was in a 50km radius! After warming up in the sun we scrambled back up to the car and carried on through the park and onto the unfinished road, which meant a few hundred kilometres of gravel road with plenty of kamikaze wildlife trying to become our first road kill. We made it to our stop for the night with no blood on the bumpers, but not entirely sure where we were. Found the local accommodation Betty Jays (which was as ropey as the name suggests; think Psycho motel) and settled in for a very over priced night. Keen to get some sleep before another long day of navigating, I drew short straw with the stabby bed next to the door and the whole debacle was finished off by having to watch some rom-com on tv!

Next day we said our goodbyes to Betty Jays pleased to have both our respective kidneys intact and set of for Los Antiguous and the marble caves. Won't go on about the scenery but it continued to be amazing (see pics from the camera club). At one point we managed to come across a couple of wild ostriches in the road, one deciding to run off into the wilderness the other deciding to try and outrun the Corsa straight down the road in our direction. Cue 87 bhp of Chevrolet brute force and a few ruffled ostrich feathers, he managed a good few hundred metres and up to about 45 km/hr before following suite of his more intelligent mate and scarpering into the wilderness and again leaving us without a prized road kill scalp! Made it to Los Antiguous and found an amazing hotel with lake side views, sauna massage and tennis courts only to find it fully booked. Fearing another Betty Jays we went into the town and despite being tempted to sleep in what appeared to be a novelly converted mini-potakabin resembling a morgue we found a little Sound of Music-esqe cabin. Managed some late lunch in the sun before retiring for the night.

The next morning we were all excited to be heading over the border into Chile in search of the marble caves (caves you guessed it; made out of marble). This was a big pre trip favourite and something of a big dog in the South American attractions for us. We managed to get a bus over the border (another stamp on the passport) and into the imaginatively named Chile Chico to find a ghost town and to cut a long story short (which involved being in the 'chintziest' caravan ever, speaking to some wide boy american from Miami, ringing and pleading with the car rental company and knocking on random house doors trying to find another car to rent) no chance of getting to the marble caves. We decided to cut our losses and head back to Argentina, console ourselves with another passport stamp and then promptly set off to completely cross Argentina for our first view of the Atlantic in Comodoria Rivadavia. This was no mean feat and Mike was probably starting to regret being the driver although presumably this job was made much easier with flawless navigating. We made it to Comodorio and despite not having booked anywhere managed to find a hostel not before Caz managed to lock out a guy at another hostel after he had got out of bed to let her in (probably didn't help the travel karma). Despite again getting stabby bed I was content to watch American football and drink beer in bed after another long day, I had seriously underestimated this navigating lark! Gutted about not seeing the caves (bet they would have been rubbish anyway) but next stop whale and penguin land!

We seemed to have woken up on national get-money-out-the-bank-day so couldn't get any cash out but set off regardless after coffees and pastries to Puerto Madrin, the penguin and whale capital of the world (not strictly true but need to keep you interested). Broke up the tiresome navigating by playing the old road trip favourite petrol-roulette. For those unfamiliar with this mainstay of road trip amusement it involves driving hundreds of kilometres (preferable on unfamiliar roads) without knowing where the next petrol station (or gas station for our American readers) whilst slowly watching the petrol gauge go down. Our travelling karma was obviously paying off though and we found an ice cream selling petrol (gas) station and a cash machine before reaching the penguins, not before the driver shafted the navigator by getting him to drive the 'last bit' (2 hours on awful roads) while he ate his ice cream! Nevertheless we made it in one piece and got to see all the penguins in the reserve, very cool as we got to walk in and amongst them and see all their nests and eggs and, true to form Nikki got told off by one of the rangers for walking off the path. Last drive for the day took us to Puerto Madrin and a lovely hostel where we promptly headed out for tea and our first real seafood. Cold scallops tested our fish tolerance but the paella and wine eased us in after that. Keen for a few more we headed on to the recommended Margarita bar and in true Brit style managed a good play on the swings and monkey bars in the childrens play area on the way.
Drove onto the peninsula from Puerto Madryn the next day in search of whales. Lots of companies to choose from but all seemed to offer the same thing so settled on one and headed out accompanied by a middle aged Argentinian stag party (cue singing, cigars, man with broken foot and hammered bloke we saw slumped in the bar last night). The tour was a definite highlight though, as we managed to get in the middle of four or five mother and baby pairings of Right Whales and close enough to get splashed by them. Even the stag do was impressed and we stayed out longer than planned as the guide and driver were that engrossed. All the hours in the car and missing the caves were forgotten as we made our way back to shore with grins on our faces, good pictures for the camera club and definitely a little humbled after our whale experience.

The next day we decided to have a stroll around PM before doing the marathon return leg to Bariloche in one stint so we could explore a little further with our last day of the car the next day. Highlights of the day being finding Malibu to keep Nikki happy and driving through volcanic ash clouds, low point being on the road for nearly 11 hours straight.

Next stop Buenos Aires.

Love Rich x

Barriloche

The 20 hour bus journey went much quicker than anticipated- helped by snacks, monopoly, good scenery and no snoring men! We arrived in Bariloche, at 5:30pm and were greeted by the blazing sun. This place still had its ski resort vibe despite it being the summer time of the southern hemisphere, with it's surrounding snow capped mountains, wooden chalet buildings and abundance of chocolate, cafes and ski wear shops. Periko hostel was very pretty with the cleanest kitchen and a sparkling oven and best of all we had double rooms. Having been in 4 bedded dorms often with bunk beds for nearly two weeks this was a luxury. We headed out armed with two for one beer vouchers provided by Marco (works in the hostel and apparently learnt his fluent English from you tube!) To celebrate Halloween we dressed in typical English style- as ourselves we headed to Antares bar. The boys drunk a few pints of home made Kelsh beer, Caz two halves of honey beer and myself...Sticking to what I know- A bottle of white wine. Not only was the quantity I drunk a lot more but we have recently found out that wine produced at high altitude, has a higher alcohol percentage and also is Argentian wine is often higher than it states on the bottle to avoid paying the next level of tax! we ended up eating at this bar, (good job for me) then stubbled upon the lost Vikings pub. Caz and I overly excited to find Malibu on the shelve! We met a couple of 30 year old englishmen walking for cancer research all over south America, averaging 15miles per day with their rucksacks, and camping gear on their backs for an entire year. Puts our "travelling" to shame. Now well oiled, we eventually found our way home - rich running back to give the guys 100 pesos. Telling them that even if they ended up spending it on beers they deserved it!

Our second day we awoke to find people walking the streets with face masks on when we looked out our windows. A volcano nearby had erupted in july and was still going the recent wind change had caused the ash to become much worse. Until we stepped outside we didn't realise just how dusty and painful the ash (which felt more like sand) whipping around us was, not to mention it preventing the warmth of the sun either. It did not take long before we took cover in a cafe shop, an excuse to eat again. A chilled out evening at the hostel ready for our next excursion- rafting!


mike and Caz debated with rafting, saying it would be too cold but decided to go ahead with it as not wanting to miss out. Thet were not disappointed! We were picked up and headed up into the mountains, stopping for our second free breafast of the day in a little cabin on the river. Mike was gutted as he was hoping for some eggs but once again it was bread, jam and dulce de Leche. Into our wrestler looking wet suits, making rich's legs looking skinner then ever, and my boobs popping out either side. A few body slams' a safety talk and we were in our raft, the boys at the front, Caz and I at the back. We had 10 rapids ahead of us. I was nearly was thrown out the boat down 'deep throat' and the whole boat nearly flipped down rapid 'relax'. About 1.5 hrs later we had numb feet from the splashes into the boat and only one rapid left to survive. Our guide advised us all to sit at the back of the raft while we were in calm waters. Doing some sneaky bouncing action and pulling a rope that was attached to the front he caused the entire boat to fall into the freezing water apart from Caz and I -wahooo!!! The boys were pulled back into the raft teeth chattering. We then breezed the last rapid and had a BBQ lunch back at the cabin and headed home buzzing.

The next morning we got up early and decided to rent a car for a week to explore the rest of Argentina. We booked it for 6pm that evening. So go fill our day we decided to catch a bus to Puerto Panoelos (about 45m out of town). This proved slightly difficult we first of all didnt realuse we needed a ticket before we got on then could find where to purchase it from! Eventually we got there though and took ourselves for a walk through a 'petrified' forest which seemed to be attacking us. Branches grabbing mike's hair and I managed to lodge a rather large piece of wood into my shin (no sympathy from rich). We found a beautiful clear lake, but only brave enough to paddle up to our knees as the water was sooo cold. On the way back we stopped off a a view point. Having got confidence in ourselves from walking all those steps in salta we stuck our noses up a the stair lift and decided to walk, I mean climb it! Error. Very hot and sweaty and Caz not impressed she chose to wear her Birkenstocks that day. As ways it was worth it though for the view. A noodle take away and we began our first leg of our road trip- first stop el bonson.