Useless men pt. 692

Saturday. My headache returns with an anger I feel is usually reserved for the likes of Osama Bin Laden or George Bush - or both in the same room. I hear a knock on the door - it`s the cleaning lady asking if I need to check out - NO I DON`T, in fact I am about to vomit from this headache thanks to you - I try to speak Spanish and it hurts even more - I want to die. Die. DIE.

I will myself back to sleep... trying to forget about the rage inside my head... it`s a war I was not going to win. Eventually, at about 2pm, I manage to get up and crawl to the pharmacy across the road for some relief. By this stage, it has eased up a little and I manage a lazy walk around town with L before he starts work.

The guy from my room has already left for a day doing something that started early which I couldn`t quite understand when he explained yesterday in Spanish. So this left me free do little else but wallow in my own self pity for a while. Soon enuf, I bounced back and - headache gone - started thinking about what I would drink that night. I didn`t have any plans for the next day at that stage, and the tour to Cafayate I had scored at a discount from L had been booked for Monday, it beginning at 7 in the morning n all...

At some stage, I got talking to a Dutch girl who was promoting a horseriding company nearby, and well you don`t really have to do much of a sell-job to me about horseriding... the only problem was price, and she said that if I couldn`t afford the half day with asado dealio, I could just come by bus in the arvo for a few hours for cheaper. Done!

Then L came in and said he wanted to come, and we actually started getting a whole bunch of people interested... I was bummed I couldn`t join the half day thing because of cash, but somehow L managed to get it for me at over half the price. It was ridiculously cheap. Yay!!

We had another pre-party at the hostel, dancing around to super gay music programmed by L and drinking drinks definitely NOT bought at the hostel. Nice. This place rocks.

I had actually heard back from my useless friend from here, and he told me when n where he would be out tonight. And that he would call me. Well, he didn`t. But anyway, I had about 15 people coming with me so it wasn`t like I needed the company... We got to the place he mentioned but, ahem, 2 hours later and of course he wasn´t there so we moved along and went dancing to another place.

Then something really strange happened. The whole club area closed at 6am and a row of police literally moved on the ENTIRE lot of people out on a Saturday night - drunks n all - to the other areas of the city. Not sure how far they pushed us out but it was a really funny thing to witness - I wish I had my camera. They weren`t violent about it, everyone just accepted that was how it worked, and danced merrily along down the street... So weird. But I guess that´s the way they control after-hours problems here.

The hot guy from my room was again really wasted but this time he actually came out - I couldn`t stop him without using excessive force - and I literally had to RUN away from him in the end to make sure he wasn`t ANYWHERE near to me. Especially since I didn`t know if I was going to end up seeing that guy again. But fucking prick, not any effort more than a couple of replies to my messages. That was it. Last time I try.

We got back at 7am, I arranged my things for horseriding the next day - sorry, in 2 hours - and I slept soundly until L came to wake me at 9am. Shudder.

Salta: From "Good Air" to good energy

So it seems I have successfully transplanted myself from the city named for its "Good Air" (Buenos Aires) to a city underappreciated for its good energy. Salta, the next stop on my route towards Bolivia, unexpectedly hit me in the face with a rush of good vibes when I arrived Friday morning con mochila enorme.

The city itself is quite small and really there isn`t much to do once you`ve seen the few landmarks, as I expected, but for some reason - and maybe it was because I knew I was heading to an exciting, new and (possibly most importantly) CHEAP country soon, and that I was out of Buenos Aires for good - I just loved this city as soon as I got here.

It was noticeably more north of Argentina. The people were becoming darker once again, just like in Iguazu, and I found myself checking each one out once again, just like Iguazu. So I had high hopes for the clubs later that night.

The hostel I chose was obviously one of the cheapest on offer online and the reviews were far and between, so I was taking a stab in the dark with my choice. Turned out to be a super fun place to be, and even in low season as we are, we managed to turn Friday and Saturday night into a party before we headed out at the ridiculously late hours I have become accustomed to partying in in South America.

I befriended the receptionist L, a gay Argentinian who doesn`t speak a lick of English but loves a good party and a good photo shoot, and he probably single-handedly helped me enjoy Salta about 10x more on the budget I am on.

At first, I was annoyed that the beautiful man I hooked up with during my stay in Iguazu was not making my effort to meet me (despite being excited about me coming for weeks, apparently), BUT L again saved the day but filling my then-vacant 6-bed dorm with just one occupant - a hot guy from Buenos Aires - and refusing everyone else). Muchas gracias, my little gay friend.

So needless to say, on the first night, a Friday, I corked my supermarket-bought vino and got stuck into some fine smoke before heading out, then after a bit of a boogie, arrived back at the hostel to wake my little friend to continue the party sans disco lights. Ba ba ba baaaam. He hadn`t come out because he got too wasted before, and it was a good thing because he was tooooo wasted and I would not have wanted to deal with it in public.

Instead, I used the opportunity to try and stalk out all the hot guys I had seen in the street - who had largely been quite positively responsive to my walking past. Well, it seems these guys don`t go to the club I went to, and so I was therefore stuck with straining to see whether those that surrounded me were in fact of legal age. Or in the least bit attractive.

I found 2 good-looking guys. The first, an almost-too-good-a-dancer-to-be-straight guy, was in my good books until he started sweating impulsively. Eww, no thank you, I am not a towel. The next guy turned out to be Israeli, not Argentinian (first bummer) and then after quite some time flexing my best flirting muscles, he tells me he has a gf. I literally almost blistered my heels turning away from him.

My disappointment in the local talent was shortlived, however, soon replaced by disappointment with the talent of the country`s capital... or maybe I am just being too picky. But what´s the deal with guys lacking downstairs here??? Urgh. He was so pretty...

Day 2 and the headache persists

Today was FINALLY leaving day in the Sierras, not that I want to sound like I am complaining or anything... there are definitely worse places in the world to be "stuck". We ordered a cab for way earlier than the bus we wanted to catch - luckily, since it took almost 2 hours to do the journey back to La Falda (the same journey that was 1 hour or so with the owner). During the ride, we were offered sweets, cigarettes and persistent observations about our surroundings ("que linda, si??" "ahh muy bien" "oohh hermosa, si?") since he was a new driver. We thought we had taken a wrong turn but in the end, we got there.

And then came the price. We were told, again by the owner, that it would be 70 - it was 85. I tried to reason with the cabbie with my bad Spanish but he wouldn`t budge. I was pissed. But then we reasoned ourselves out of our annoyance with the fact we didn`t get charged for the transfer there with the owner (which we were told was 50), and also the fact the gaucho didn`t charge us for the last night or the asado. I gave him a good tip.

My headache was still lingering, and I had to take a siesta before the cab had arrived to try and shake it. The bumpy ride in the cab would have been super fun, had C not supplied me with some drugs to ease the pain. Bless her. So I just tried to drink and drink and drink water. So I was always looking forward to the next bathroom stop.

The view out the window of the bus kept me entertained, with the romanticism of Tom Vernon`s writings still lingering in my head... the houses with their stucco peeling; the dogs roaming casually around the streets or, more commonly, sleeping in a random but central walkway; the wire holding bins for rubbish raised high out of the way of the prying dogs; the beautiful dam opening out to fingers of tourism greedily grabbing at travellers´ pockets... We drove through villages, wound around mountains, passed waterways, the scenery was everchanging.

Once back in Cordoba, the sun had disappeared and we headed to E`s house via the internet cafe where I tried to organise just a little bit of my life. The day extra had thrown a little spanner in the works so I had to reorientate myself with what I was actually doing. I knew I had several options for buses to Salta that evening, as I asked when we got to bus terminal, and all I had to do was repack my bag at E`s house. Mi actividade favorito :(

Still, I somehow managed to still have to RUN to the ticket window with 5 mins to spare before my bus, and had to go up, down, up, down, up while everyone told me different things, all the while straining my back against my backpack... it was a stressful time. Eventually, things worked out for the best and I boarded the bus with 2 mins to spare, sweating a storm but glad I was moving on. Cordoba had been nice but it really wasn`t for me... I could hear Salta calling...

Gaucho life: maggots n all

Just before I went to bed on my "final" night in the Sierras, I was informed via text message via the gaucho that there was to be no services between La Falda and Cordoba - where the rest of my backpack still was - tomorrow because it is the national holiday, May 25 (Argentina´s independence day). Grr.

So we woke with muddled heads... do we stay another night and get charged by this wretched woman who was still away, OR do we go to ugly La Falda and hope to find some festivities celebrating May 25, OR do we stay to give the gaucho another night of company and get an asado out of it at the same time, OR do we go into town and try to find cheaper accommodation... I was torn. D suggested messaging the owner, asking if we could stay a night free if we helped out about the place - she never responded so we just ended up staying, having waited that long anyway for her response.

C and I took another stroll to the river, this time going a little further down the track to see the now fully sunny mountains open up in all their bountiful glory, me trying to shake the specks of stress curling into my mind... then finally resting on the fact that if we stayed we would most likely not pay much more because the gaucho preferred our company than giving the woman more cash for basically doing nothing. I would have preferred paying full and giving it all to the gaucho instead.

After the walk, and lunch, and a siesta, we joined D in the carelle with the cattle so he could teach us to lasso. Well, his version of teaching... which was to demonstrate just how easy it was by getting the calves a couple of times first go, then thrusting the rope into our hands and pointing at one of the poor little creatures shivering behind their mamas. I gotta say, I was pretty shite, BUT managed to get one around the head 3rd try. After that, I was back to shit. But hey, it was a bit of fun.

Then we stood watch as the gaucho caught the youngest of the calves, just 4 days old, and proceeded to clean out a nasty infection it had gotten from birth I think... which included pushing a pile of maggots out of the hole. I almost vomited. Just when I think I am becoming a little gaucho, a big, cold slab of reality slaps me right in the face. Que grosero. But such is the gaucho`s life.

I was also pissed I couldn´t afford to ride again, and didn`t want to ask in case he said yes and then charged me when we checked out. Eventually, though, I thought fuck it, and the next time he was about to swing his leg over (the horse), I asked if I could join him. Turned out to be a good decision, as we had to circle the property checking the fence for breaks as well as taking the cattle back out, and it was a stunning day to do so. It was nice riding, pretty easygoing and slower than the day before, especially cos I was on a slower horse (no more owner`s favourite for me)... but all in all, a nice ending to the day.

As the sun faded, bringing with it a luminous umbrella of pinks, purples and blues across the sky, we sat on the patio and I kept reading my book about a fat man in Argentina. Funnily enuf, his observations were largely similar to mine, and it reinvigorated the sense of romance in my own writings. So I apologise if these last few posts flowed a little too poetically. But dammit, a girl can dream.

Having resigned ourselves to the fact we were indeed stuck in the Sierras for another night, we enjoyed a national holiday asado with the gaucho - traditional meats, salted to the 9th degree and roasted over hot coals for some time, even blood sausage which I thought was strictly Scottish - and it was nice. The blood sausage remained on the plate, though. The dogs had a particularly nice meal that night. Which is good, since food at that time for the animals was scarce. Apparently none was left, another thing left for the gaucho to organise in the owner´s absence. At first, I was bummed I hadn´t come here early enuf to be a WOOFer - now I was glad.

From a lack of water during the day, or whatever else, I had the onset of a raging headache so I took myself to bed early. Guacho´s face dripped with disappointment. I left the better Spanish speaker with him. And I slept. In my saggy bed. Or tried to.

Cattle, cacti and Colorado

I was super excited to wake up at the estancia hostel (the saggy bed turning out to be really comfortable), having organised a horseride the day before with the offputting (but now pleasantly non-existant) owner. The only problem was the weather... grey clouds at times threatening rain but mostly just protecting the sun from really giving us the view we desired. On a good day, we were to learn, the mountains bore a blue haze reminiscent of the Blue Mountains of NSW, before a blazing afternoon sun gave them a rich autumn glow (for indeed it is autumn now here) before fading with the constraints of time. Not before providing a beautiful backdrop for the sunset itself... but that is for another blog.

We were orignally going to ride sometime in the morning, but it being Argentina, eventually got on our mounts sometime around lunch. We were to help D with gathering some steeds from the wilderness around the hostel - mostly filled with desert-dwelling and decidedly scary plants - and so set out on our gaucho saddles equipped with what is best described as a frame, at the front draped with cow hide where the legs should go, to protect them as we forged through the vegetation. Poor horses, they must be scratched to blazes half the time or have an exceedingly tough chest by now.

It was super fun riding out with the cattle, a totally new experience to the mustering I am used to in Australia or anywhere else for that matter. One moment you are cantering through sparse cacti and thornly bushes, jumping the odd one here n there, the next you are scrambling through bushes so dense you lose the cattle you are trying to herd and with so many rocks underfoot it is impossible to go any faster than a brisk walk. Thankfully, after all my talk of previous experience with horses, I was given the owner`s ride, most probably the best of the bunch, and was duly rewarded with a great ride. Colorado was a pleasure, easy on the legs and rein, and went wherever I asked him to without complaint.

We ended up going out three times to get more cattle, it being that hard to gather them all at once, stopping in between for lunch and a siesta... mostly for D, I stayed awake and started to read a book I had found on the coffee table by an English traveller in Argentina (turned out to be a really entertaining read). I started to get more adventurous with the kitchen, sneaking bits of ingreditents here n there and moving my food to the fridge now the owner had left. Fuck it, if she was gonna go back on her word of a free room, I will do as a damn well please in her absence. What kind of hostel leaves its only guests - yes, only - to the gaucho??

After several times out into the bush, I was well pleased - the price we paid was for just 2 hours but we got much more - and poor C was already in pain, having not ridden a horse since she was a bub. But well she did as me and the gaucho bolted around haplessly after cheeky bacas. So much fun!!

That night, D got out a bottle of vino from somewhere in the depths of "free of charge" and we didn`t complain. Had some more pasta (woot) and rested ourselves after the day`s activities. C went to bed before me and I got a little uneasy at being alone with the gaucho, especially with the disappointed look he gave me when I said I was going to bed while he was going to his room to listen to music, so I gladly bailed for the comfort of my saggy bed and tea towel towel. He must get lonely out here but really... it ain`t gonna happen.

This night, our second, was to be our last at the hostel and it was well filled. I just wish the weather had been brighter. But, as it turns out, we had more time than we knew to wait for it to clear...

The bumpy rd to the Sierras...in more ways than one

It was a reasonably early rise for this little chicken on the day I was set for the Sierras of Cordoba, famous mountain ranges that spring up alongside the province of Cordoba that are home to estancias, little nuggets of tourist towns and as I found out, one estancia hostel part of the chain I worked for in Iguau and Buenos Aires. Bueno. I contacted the owner prior to leaving BA and she said, in Spanish only, that it would be OK to stay for free for a couple of days as staff of HI, but beyond that there was no room. I was to find several things wrong with that statement later on.

I got the bus to La Falda, the town easiest to get to for the hostel but still at least another hour drive on dirt roads to the estancia. The owner, V, was a brisk but formally polite woman that drove me and the French girl also staying there, but only after waiting for the mechanics to fix their check-up of her car, get some gas and buy a new card for the internet. Whatever, it all happens eventually in Argentina.

We jiggled and jaggled along the dirt camino to the hostel, me straining to hear the Spanish conversation taking place ahead against the clanging of stones against the 4-wheel drive, harder still since the owner took no concession at my lack of Spanish knowledge. Still, I held my own, dammit, I held my own. The French girl, C, was really nice and spoke a little English but for the duration of the time at the hostel, we just spoke in Spanish. Which was good practice for me!

Finally, after what seemed like endless turns and twists, and an increasingly stunning landscape of mountain ranges, cacti and the random cow, we got through several gates and eventually landed on one that belonged to the estancia. I saw a few, almost poorly looking horses scrounging around near the feed shed and wondered if they were what I would ride the next day... they were.

The situation in our room did not get any better: the sink taps refused to give out more than an exasperated trickle (cold only), so we had to use the shower head instead; the beds sagged in the middle; we weren`t allowed to mix our food with the hostel`s so nothing could be refrigerated; I forgot my towel - I was given a tea towel ("Is this OK?" Uh yeah, sure); and in the end, the owner did not give me the rooms for free. I was going to ask but soon after she drew up the bill, she packed her bags and jumped in the car. The solo gaucho, D, that worked there told us she was off to her boyfriend`s house until the weekend. OK then...

Things got a little better after she left, when the gaucho breathed a little easier and relaxed into the fact he was now alone on the estancia with 2 young girls and not a helluva lot more. I know it sounds sinister, but he was actually really lovely - bless him - and I much preferred his company than that of the owner. I just got a untrustworthy, cold feeling from her. Maybe if I knew her for more than an hour that would change...

So we walked to the little river near the house, beautifully displaced by large, smooth, grey rocks and disturbed occasionally only by a lone horse grazing on the sandy bank or the Golden Retriever of the house paddling away and trying to catch the water with his mouth. It always escaped him. Such was the serenity of this place. We prayed for a sunny day in the morning.

After our first pasta meal sans the expensive tag of the hostel menu, we shared a bottle of red and headed to bed at a reasonable hour. I therefore rose at a reasonable hour, and the sun had certainly not heard our pleas.

Riverside fun with my bitches in Cordoba

Funky Cordoba

Cordoba: Good for girls, bad for boys

E and I planned an asado for Saturday night, and so we should have - asados (the Argentine word for BBQ) are an integral part of the Argentinian diet and if done right, are extremely, extremely tasty. We headed out to the supermarket, stocking up all meats of all varieties and bits n pieces to tantalise the tastebuds - at the end of it all, I came away spending my entire day`s budget but hey, sometimes you just gotta splurge. And considering my entire day`s budget is $25, it was not really much of a splurge.

Next, we took E`s 2 dogs - big, black Dobermans - for a spritely walk to the nearby river. I say spritely because with one of these dogs in hand (the female, no less), I was almost pulled across several lanes of traffic and into ditches as she bounded ahead of me, muscles rippling under my poorly grasp. I managed not to succumb under the pressure, though, and am still alive to tell the tale. I gotta say, however, that walking down the street with a Doberman certainly clears the path. Much better than pepper spray down a dark alley.

We played frisbee with the dogs, one being almost blind he ran full pelt into me and almost winded me, but still had fun. Bless him. It was the first time I played with Dobermans, and it was actually really fun. They are lovely dogs. Just need to keep a firm hold of them when any other dog traipses by. Not a good combination.

After that, we headed back and had a bite to eat. Then we went into the centre, which I still hadn`t seen, and E took me to the weekend feria (markets). Yay! My love/hate relationship with markets endured, with me wanting everything but having no space in my bag nor money to purchase with. Ho hum. But the markets were great and we found a little bar with awesome decoration down a funky little alley to have a beer at.

Then it was asado time! We got the coals burning bright on the backyard BBQ, with the dogs running around us sniffing the air, and heaped on the meat. MEAT RRROOOOOOOOAAARRRRRR!!!! Haha... tucked into that, it was amazing - I love how salty they do the meat, definitely taking that back to Oz. We ate way too much, of course, and E taught me how to drink red wine properly (actually much better when you have a good wine like we did!!) and then I got myself ready for a night on the clubs.

E is an architect and he took me to a club he designed, so we were able to actually get in - it was almost 3am by that stage so there was little chance of getting in otherwise. The place, as expected, was teeming with uni students all wearing belts as skirts and everything tight tight tight as a toiger. Not a bad thing, and I am not complaining, just a mild observation. The chicks here are HOT, shame about the guys though.

It was quite entertaining viewing for me, though, being virtually a fly on the wall because I wasn`t stick-thin and also dancing with E all night. I got to watch all the guys eyeing the girls (aka their prey), go in for the kill, usually get barred, and try for the next girl in the line. Haha... ahh, post-teen lust. It made me feel about 50 years old.


I called it a night about 5am, a bit over the music and kinda wanted to sleep anyway. It had been a big day. And I had to stop spending money. This is the most expensive part of my trip so far I reckon! And I wanted to get back to the markets the next day. Speaking of, the time is nigh!! Feather earring here I come!

Getting shots...of the non-alcohol variety :(

I arrived in Cordoba late morning, having spoken to my CS friend and arranged everything. So it was sorted. I was in Cordoba, not in Buenos Aires (already my day was getting better), I had had SOME sleep in the bus but also managed to see some of the beautiful countryside out my window... and I had a bed to sleep on that night. A free bed. I always like the sound of that.

I got to E`s house and he was instantly welcoming... the oldest CSing host I have had but kinda refreshing that he has his shit sorted. Taking in 20-something backpackers from around the world, though, an interesting choice of company for a 40-year-old... Anyway, who am I to judge, you are what you feel. Regardless, he is a very inviting host and had lunch ready for me when I got there. Lucky, I was starving and those overpriced sandwiches had barely touched the sides. Nothing like the full-surface get-up I got from Iguazu to Bs As. Ho hum.

His house was nice, except a bit odd as the kitchen/eating area was connected to the bedroom/loft area with a bathroom. First time I have seen a bathroom with 3 doors. Well, I guess it`s good his bathroom isn`t in his room or something!!

I felt a little tired but staved off the exhaustion in order to get some shit done. First on my list: Yellow Fever Vaccination. Well, wasn`t that a mission. Had to go from one unknown hospital to another, using my basic Spanish skills to get myself there in a taxi and then home on a bus. But I did it, and got the vac for free - apparently it`s a campaign they have in Argentina to prevent the spread of the illness. I am usually a little more flippant with these kinds of life-threatening situations, but having just experienced 1 night of food poisoning and being told YF is like a 2-3 week version of that, I am getting the shot.

So now I have the certificate and even my entry form for coming back to Argentina from Uruguay - I am so organised!! Usually I just play dumb when I go into countries, I have no idea what forms they need... so far I have not been charged any extra fees. For this, I consider myself a darn sight blessed.

That night, we had a nice dinner at the local Mexican restaurant - as you do in Argentina - and waddled into town (actually, drove, which was a nice change) to find a park and have a drink in amongst the students. I wasn`t really feeling it, to be honest, and was soooo tired so after just one cocktail I called it a night. Felt bad but E said he was also tired. Bless him for wanting to show me the town anyway.

I wasn`t super looking forward to another night amongst almost pre-pubescent youngsters but I put it down to just being tired. Which makes me cranky at the best of times. And where the hell were all the big-boobed chicks I was told about in Cordobabababababa???? And damn my super hot friend from here for being so useless and no replying to my message. I want to see your beautiful face... just one last time. Damn you and your perfection.

My melodramatic exit from Bs As

So I've always liked to be one to go out in style, and my exit from dirty Buenos Aires certainly carried on with that tradition. I did the pizza party one last time for the hostels, needing to do SOMETHING for the free accomm I had just taken from them the last few nights. Thankfully, it did NOT include the fucking pub quiz this time, and the manager from the other hostel was gone by the time I came with my group, so it was pretty smooth sailing.

I sat with my new English friends for a while, after dancing around and flirting with the barman I last saw for his birthday drinks, and was feeling pretty confident that tonight was going to be a fitting farewell for me and this town. Sadly, I was mistaken.

One French guy who wanted to party stuck around with me until the bar closed, the English people having gone back to the hostel, and when I was in the toilet the barman LEFT without saying goodbye. I thought he was just out the back so I waited for him, since he said he wanted to party, but then found out he was gone. The French guy went back to the hostel when I said I would wait, and so I was sat with the boring Brazilian and Columbian guys who worked at the hostel.

On top of this, the cute receptionist from the other hostel - little R - didn`t show, nor did my Brazilian friend OR Fantasma from Iguazu. All of which promised to come out with me. And the cute tattoo artist didn`t call, which I expected. So you can imagine, after a few freebie beers at the pizza party, how pissed off I was when I stormed home at about 12:30am. Well, you don`t storm unless you`re angry, really, do you.

First stop, Facebook. I was in a mood and had to tell the world, as you do. Found the tattooist online, who tried to get me to go to his house. Yes, thanks for that, I don`t really feel like a booty call at all. How about no, you fuckstick, I am not getting public transport ALONE at this time of night on a Saturday to your dodgy neighbourhood without even the guarantee that you will meet me at the station, be awake or even be at your house. Or that your fucking girlfriend doesn`t come home. Oh, sorry, not your gf, just the girl who thought she was pregnant with your baby yesterday. Next!

My cute Argo friend who I had drinks with the night before was online, but she had said she wasn`t going out cos of work, so I crossed her off the list. To be honest, by that stage there wasn`t really a list anymore and I just wanted OUT! Bs As had shown its true colours tonight and I was sick of using that palette.

So I spoke to the receptionist, she looked up times for buses to Cordoba and I packed my shit, and left. Well, momentarily, until I realised my wallet and new camera were still under my pillow for safe-guarding. Jeez, if I lost my camera AGAIN I would literally walk in front of my bus instead of onto it. Got on the 24hr bus to the bus terminal at about 2am, a highly productive thing to do on a Saturday night with a ridiculously heavy backpack and all my worldly possessions in my flimsy canvas handbag. Found the ticket venders easily enuf, and got to the gate with 10 mins to spare, no stress.

My resolve to leave this town was firm, so I was actually in a happy mood. Didn`t even mind paying exorberant prices for a shitty little sandwich that would serve me well later in the 11-hour bus ride. And also asked a hot guy waiting near me if he was heading to Cordoba. Hey, ever the opportunist. Sadly, he wasn`t. "Que pena" I said (that`s a shame)... he agreed. Boom.

Then I settled into my 2:30am bus and slept. Oh, how I slept. Nothing like a tantrum to drain your energy.

Come on Cordoba!!

Definitely wearing thin of this city. Itching to get out, and today, knowing that I am leaving tomorrow, I feel ready to go. One final night out, hopefully with my amigos de Buenos Aires, and it should be a fitting farewell. I will miss them, but such is the nature of the gypsy.

Yesterday I got an email from a freelance contact in the UK, asking if I wanted to cover the Ibiza Dance Music Summit - free flights, accomm, food, everything, of COURSE when I don't live in London anymore. Ho hum. But I am advancing my talks with the other job offer in the Caribbean, which is sounding more promising by the day and which I believe I have a good chance of getting... now just to figure out how to break the news to my family that I would only be home for 2 months...

The guy from work who was stand-in manager while the other manager was away is being a bit of an ass to me, making sure I speak to the proper manager now she's back and saying I need to work out with her whether I need to pay some money for my room etc. I told him I still didn't know my plans and that I would speak with her... fuck getting spoken to like that by someone who ain't even in charge anymore. I will deal with the manager, as I have been doing already all on my ownsie - she is much nicer than him, anyway!

Yesterday, I was feeling fine - although had a little trouble bending down quickly without a light head - and went to see the manager at the Ritz, the lady I worked with in Iguazu. Also had to say goodbye to my friends at their hostel, they had woken up after the previous night's efforts in a frenzy wanting to organise a quick trip to Igauzu. $1000 later (seriously, that is my budget for almost 2 months!!) and they had flights, accomm, falls activities etc etc... and were in a mad rush. Chao chao, amigos, hasta luego :)

The manager at the Ritz, just a few weeks into her new gig, was already looking frazzled and stressed. Reports passing my way were saying no one liked her there and while I do feel a bit sorry for her because of that, I also remember my one night working side by side with her for the pizza party. Man, that was intense.

Anyway, she said the pizza party was still running on Thursdays and now Tuesdays but only on Tuesdays did they do the Pub Quiz as well. Thank god, NO MAS PUB QUIZ PARA MI!!! I hated that! But at least I am doing something for the hostel, and people can't think I am just bludging around. There still is definitely an element of bludging being done on my behalf but at least now I feel I am earning my keep.

Started my research for Bolivia... I think I will try to get into Tupiza somehow to see the red canyons there. Really, I have NO idea about anything with Bolivia, all I know is that it is CHEAP CHEAP CHEAP and that, to me, sounds mighty good. My budget is going well, though, considering I am still within it, even after factoring in a tattoo, new camera and all my travel. And also that I was in Brazil for a couple of weeks, and possibly the other most expensive parts of Argentina. Now just to take care of Chile...

Tossing up whether I want to do Cordoba by train or bus tomorrow. With the train, it is MUCH cheaper but I hear bad things about kids vomiting and people throwing stuf at the train through the journey in cattle class, and also it leaves at night, virtually robbing me of a night out in Cordoba (the whole reason I wanted to go on a weekend). And it takes 5 hours longer than the bus.

On the other hand, the buses leave regularly - god knows how they have the foot traffic for that many services - and are complete with meals and drinks, which I for one am all in for. The bus ride from Iguazu here was pretty lush so I might just opt for that in the end. To my Argentinian friend I had drinks with last night, 50-odd American dollars was super expensive but to me, not so much.

Speaking of last night, it was a bit of a stunted mission. I went with Y, a former guest at Iguazu that I still speak to, to the tattoo artist's hood who did my tattoo in Iguazu. She was poised to get a new tat, but when we got to his dodgy little part of town, he was nowhere to be seen and wasn't answering his phone. We found an internet cafe and saw on FB that he messaged her today saying the girl he was seeing may be pregnant and he needed to go to the hospital with her. Dramas dramas dramas. Anyway, he failed to see the point of messaging her phone as well, so we had made the journey for nothing. Good call, mate.

We went back into town and had some beers at a really cute little bar that she has been going to for years, with an old, black-haired lady roaming around that had themed the place "dark" with vampiric, magic-themed pictures adorning the walls and a fat, black cat sitting in the corner. It was rather cool, I say, rather cool.

Afterwards, I just went back to the hostel, not wanting any more beer because my stomach was already straining from the weight of too much pasta for dinner and wheaty drink, and I was knackered from the night before... and just starting to feel it. Tonight is the night for bang bang baaaaang party time. Woooooooooooooooooooooooooooot. One last time in this wretched city - let's see what you got for me.

Random police busts

The drinking began in the hostel, as it usually does for this little traveling tightass. I was getting cheaper drinks, not totally staff because someone else was manning the bar, but still a great deal cheaper than the bars outside.

I befriended 2 couples of English people, they were traveling in a group and were really nice. After a few really strong drinks and intermittent checking of my FB for communication with my Aussie friends in town, I made the snap decision to go to Palermo solo and meet them there. We had a drunken convo on the phone which led me to a random restaurant, and from there we started the party.

Things get a little blurry at this point, but I remember we walked to the place everyone was headed that night (basically there is a good party each night of the week that gets rammed and this night it was Tuesday, hip-hop night), but when we got to the front of the line we decided we weren`t really feeling it and bailed. I had less money on me anyway cos I had thrown a 50 into my bra in the dark instead of a 100. So it would`ve been my mates covering the door charge and that ain`t cool.

So we went walking and ended up at probably one of the more touristy places to go, sitting outside cos inside was rammed. We made friends with these random French guys that could speak some English but preferred to just ramble in Spanish and French even though they knew my mates weren`t really understanding... typical. I got a beer and we were sitting there chilling when S came out in a rush, grabbed N and started walking briskly towards the cab stand. Then I saw them get into a cab and I was like WTF, so I stared at them and saw S motion to me to come quickly. So I bailed, ran over and jumped in the cab. And we were outta there.

"What the fuck was that all about??" I asked S... apparently he was in the toilet about to do some lines and these men lean over the toilet wall with a searchlight, flashing some badges and saying they were police. Well, this is what he heard in Spanish... anyway, whatever they said, it scared the bejeezers outta him and so he was out of there in a flash. Weirdly, though, they took his coke and then handed it back to him, telling him to get out of there. Now.

So he did. And we along with him. Almost back at the hostel, we stopped the cab and jumped out at good ol' Red Door. By this stage, we were all well trashed so of course we struck up some conversation with randoms from Bs As. I ended up with some hot blonde chick, and was trying to get her to come back to my now empty hostel room, but she said she couldn`t leave her friend so he had to come too. One look at said friend and it was a firm NO. Then she went to the bar with the friend, and when her other mate went to the toilet, I BAILED. Couldn`t be fucked to deal with it. Back at the hostel, I made myself pasta and it was GOOD. Also went on the computer, probably not the best idea in my state but it was entertaining to read the next day.

I woke up all foggy about the night before, but with flashes of memory coming back...all of which made me giggle. Was an awesome night, thoroughly random but hey, aren`t they always the best kind??

Buenos Aires = "Good" Air??? Uff

So I am back in Buenos Aires. The familiar stench of exhaust fumes welcomes me with open arms. The rubbish collectors have (again) delayed their pickup just for my return. The men have saved up their best, most deliciously polite comments for me to walk by. Ahh, to be home.

I am counting the days til I leave.

Now having committed myself to yet another pizza party (urgh), I am obliged to stay until Thursday but that kinda works anyway cos I would like a weekend in Cordoba. Apparently it's a small version of Buenos Aires - I'm hoping that means it's a bit cleaner too.

The first night I spent back I had a kip but woke myself to go meet my Australian friend N and her boyfriend, who are here for a short time before heading elsewhere in South America and whom I haven't seen for god knows how long. It was really good to catch up, we were just in the bar around the corner, so it was easy to get to and easy to get home.

I drank nothing, not a drop, because my stomach was still too sensitive for it. And I knew if I took it easy that night I could double my efforts the next night. Which I did. Boom.

I had planned a sleep-in for the next day, but as I went to sleep sober, my body believed it had had enuf sleep at about 10am and I was up n at'em. Ufffff.... Armed with a camera (woot woot), I walked to the main bus terminal to compare prices for buses to Cordoba and took some pics of the cool graffiti about town. There really is some sweet art around here. It gives me a whole new appreciation of the city. Maybe it ain't that bad.

After an afternoon siesta, I was ready to party. But that is a whole other story...a whole other blog. Check in again soon.

The buffet from hell

So it seems that buffet was the cheapest option for a reason. Although, technically, I did get to taste it twice so that could be perceived as good value for money.

I felt nothing on the bus ride back to Montevideo, but as I chilled at R's pad - bless him for staying awake to let me in - the uneasiness in my stomach grew and grew. I made cup after cup of special herb tea with the dried marcella I bought back from Cabo Polonio, but nothing seemed to help. The discomfort continued to swell and so I stayed up, organising things on the internet.

Eventually, about 3:30am I took myself to bed...only to be woken a few hours later covered in a cold sweat, shivering my ass off in the bed that had been so warm and comfortable last time I stayed there. I had the overwhelming urge to vomit but I kept myself lying down, clutching my stomach and willing the urge to pass. It didn't.

What a hideous night/morning. That fucking buffet.

It took all my strength the next day to get up and organise my things to go back to Buenos Aires. I had to keep lying back down, drinking water, dashing to the bathroom for false alarms... que horible!! But somehow I got myself to a semi-normal state again and to the bus terminal, only to have to wait for almost 3 hours on the fucking plastic chairs for my bus to leave. Grr... internet times WRONG! Cunts.

But I got back to Buenos Aires... finally. A nice old Uruguian man befriended me on the bus ride to Colonia and then bought me coffee (hideous, I pretended to drink it and threw it out when he turned his back - what part of NO ME GUSTA CAFE did he not understand) and sweet croissants (those I ate), and sat next to me on the ferry ride across to BA. Gave me all his details and asked for my number, which was a bit weird, but I told him I didn't have one. No way I am getting into THAT kind of situation. Could hardly understand him anyway.

Got back to BA about 10 in the evening and proceeded to walk - WALK - with my horrendously heavy backpack "just 3 more blocks, just 3 more blocks" as everyone I asked kept telling me. Well, it WASN'T 3 more blocks. It was about 20. But by the time I realised this, I had walked the entire way and was back at my hostel. Once inside, I was told "the best price I can give you is 50 pesos per night". I'm sorry... price?? I don't DO price. Hmm, how about if I work the pizza party again on Thursday?? Ahh, the things I have to do to survive in this crazy world.

Beauty and the Beast: Cabo Polonio to Chuy

Ahh, drunk posts. Gotta love them. So...winding back the clock again to the posts I have not yet done...

We`re still in Cabo Polonio, but it`s the final day. I have decided to leave with the rest of Grupo del Mundo, because F has a car and it worked out to go with them on a short road trip up the coast and end up in Chuy, a cheap place to buy cameras. And lord knows I need another one to lose. Boom.

On our last night, as the sun set, we went up the lighthouse for the princely sum of $1, and it was the same time the lighthouse man put on the light. That was cool, when I flicked the switch. The contraption is still original, made of crystal panels and with such a small light in the middle it`s hard to believe it throws off such a beam. It is pretty much the only light in the town after dark, it really is weird having NO street lights and no lights on inside most of the houses. Lucky there has been a good, bright moon to light our way back - even though we still manage to get lost amongst the reeds most of the time haha...

So the next day we piled back into the monster truck for our farewell out of Cabo Polonio, sad times but it`s gotta be done. Said goodbye to the dead little penguins on the beach (never actually got to see a live one) and rotting corpse of a sea lion (tasty), the random baby whale bones and the little hippy shacks all boarded up for the low season. Ahh, yes, this place is special.

The monster truck journey seemed longer and way less fun on the way out - funny that - and once we got back to the bus stop, it dawned on us that the last few days were over. Never again. But we all agreed it was best to leave on a high note. Speaking of high, dammit we had no weed. Ho hum.

Piled into another vehicle, except this time it was a mild sight smaller and packed with our bags (well, mostly mine to be honest, the behemoth of a thing). It was so much fun, all 4 of us powering down the highway in the little Fiat, F at the wheel, Stones on the CD player... I certainly can get satisfaction!! Hey hey HEY!

First, we stopped off at Valeses (spelling??) next door, which was cute also but a ghost town as everywhere else was, then we went to Santa Teresa national park which had more beautiful beaches - SO similar to Australia, though, geez I am spoilt - and then to Punta del Diablo. The day was windy but I could tell it would have been a nice place to chill - A was keen to do some surfing, which I guess was the only option now since nothing else was happening. I was torn whether to bail with A and just stay there a couple of days, considering I was...well...there...but I forged on to Chuy.

Hideous town. Bordering Brazil, it was basically a one-stop shop for all things duty free, and people went there just before crossing over to things more beautiful and bronzed... and so I became one of the rest of them, scooting through shop after shop looking for the best deal. At least it was better than the hellhole known as Cuidad del Este in Paraguay. But only just. Shudder.

R and F hung around for a bite to eat - we chose a random buffet cos it was the cheapest option in this overpriced shithole - and as they were about to vamos, we ran into 3 Aussie guys who had been at Cabo Polonio at the same time as us. They were headed to Porto Alegre in Brazil as well, and before long they had refunded their tickets and squashed 3 in the back into the Fiat with R and F. Ha! Random life stories.

I bought a new camera - woot woot - the same as last time, for a little bit more money but all is good, I will get it back from insurance (hopefully) but I am just glad I have a camera again. Now just to keep it. I swear this is the sacred camera, it is NOT going out with me and alcohol, only to be handled by sober hands. So, last night it did not go out.

The drunk meaning of life

OK so i am a liiiiiitle behind on ye old posts but I thought any avid readers would appreciate how drunk I am and how possibly inappropriate I am. Man, that was hard to spell. So yeah, I just basically ran away from a hot chick. Why?? Well, who knows. I often ponder this moment, not really realising it until, well, never... and now I get a chance to live it.

So the reason I left this chick tonight was that she was keen but sai dshe lived too far away and couldnt leave her friend too far behind. Baaaah. Wrong button. I dont do friends, not unless I was explexetly in love with them as well as the original friend I mentioned.

So that was out. And I was just waiting for an excuse. N and her boyf had vamosed... esp after his hair-raising experience of getting everything confiscated in the bathroom then handed back, asking him to just leave RANDOM - yeah.... so how do you respond to that?? Umm.. so yeah random hot Argentinian...

Anyway, so I don't want to ruin the moment of having a hot Argo on your back but....yes go them, go everyone who ever has the chance of having an amazing family on your family. Wow. Got them.

Boom. Well I guess my deeo-seeded issues with love transcend towards multi-lingual barriers... and now I am sober enuf - having spent some time waiting for my pasta to boil - then I guess all I have is to bid u all good night. Boom. Another mystery gone unsolved. Such is life.

Life's a beach...and I`m gonna ride it (again)

Saturday. Horseriding day. Except that when we woke, it was TEAMING with rain. And I mean belting it. Really going for it. I had heard it start to tap on the corrugated iron roof earlier in the morning, having tossed n turned after not much sleep (kinda hooked up with the Brazilian but not for long, after I realised the group dynamic should stay as it is) and spent a few hours kinda willing it to stop.

Ahh, to no avail. None of us woke by 10am, assuming the relaxed nature of Cabo Polonio would mean the horse guy would not have bothered trekking along the beach with 6 horses in tow in the pouring rain. We were right. When we finally made it to the hostel we were meant to meet him at, he said he had gone fishing instead. In the rain. Go figure. He also said that now, for some reason, it had become twice the price we were quoted yesterday and he only had 3 horses, not 6.

Hmm. Interesting. We spoke to the boys and they weren`t really that bothered, so it ended up just being me and the Swede. We arranged a ride for that afternoon, since it had cleared up nicely, and luckily the man who actually organised it was the hottest guy on the cape, Juan. Not speaking a lick of English, he rabbited on about god knows what the whole time while me and R just nodded and inserted ohhh and hahaha when appropriate (or I assume so).

When we jumped on, I was told my horse wasn`t a tourist horse, probably just some random neighbour`s horse they lent for a bit of extra cash, but she had a 5 month (but HUGE) foal running alongside her which was cute. She was also not a stubborn mule like R`s was at times, and she was really responsive with leg which I much prefer to pulling on the mouth.

The view atop my steed was just beautiful, definitely up there with the best horseriding views ever for me. We started on the beach, I had some canters, and then we crossed some sand dunes to the forest where J took us for a random little walk through some of what he called the mountain, but which looked distinctly like forest undergrowth for me... Anyway, neither of us still understood him so whatever. It was cute the way he was showing us all these things.

After the ride, his cuteness faded a little when he tried to tell us we`d been gone for 2.5 hours instead of 2 and that he should also be paid cos he was riding and working too. Well, I had only suggested he come along because I wanted to flirt, I didn`t know he wanted to charge us for the opportunity. In Australia, it costs LESS to have a guide. Go figure.

Needless to say, we didn`t pay. Most tightass tourists ever. I don`t know, I ain`t made of money. J said he would play flamenco guitar for us (me) that night, but I wasn`t so interested after the little payment episode so we never made it there. Instead, we popped into the supermarket again and got our supplies for another night of candlelit cooking and bonfire chilling. Ahh, gotta love it...

The little yellow house

With plans aplenty for the next day - including finding a new house for all 4 of us to live together in - I woke to a blazing sun and the sounds of waves crashing softly, entirely before everyone else in what I like to call El Grupo del Mundo. So I used the opportunity to walk the "town" a bit, get a handle on everything in this weird little part of the world. Got a quote for a casa for 4, and by the time I came back, I was still stoned from my breakfast spliff and nice n calm from my walk... ready to tackle the day.

We could have walked the dunes to the next town - 2 hours in total - or maybe tried to find the whale bones apparently on the other beach. Or gone up the lighthouse. Or seen the sea lion pack. Instead, we chose to chill. The easy road in a place like this. But, after the hecticness of BA, I felt I deserved some relaxation. And I know I wasn't the only one.

Me and A, the American, checked ourselves out of the hostel at the lazy hour of midday and went looking for a new house from "the lady with the blue doors". Such are the directions of a place with no streets. The other 2 caught us up and we checked out a new pad, deciding to take a bigger one with 2 bedrooms and a small lounge area, then me and A went walking in search of the whale bones (to no avail). On the way back, we ran into the other 2, who told us they preferred to stay in their small house because it was cheaper and R was worried about money because she had forgotten to withdraw before coming to the cape. F was concerned about the room, but she wanted to try and fit all of us in there. So we vamosed and gave it a go.

Until now, we hadn't actually seen their casita but as we trekked to the other end of the cape's dwellings, we saw a cute little yellow building come into view... one look at the gnome-sized door and I was hooked. The tall American, not so much, but he warmed to it once we got inside and felt the energy. Ahh, the energy. This 2-room cubbyhole had such a positive vibe, a really family atmosphere... the fact we would be sardining it in the evening-time didn't really bother us. So that was that. New house sorted. And for a particularly good price, might I add (Thailand styles).

One of the men I was talking to by the fire last night was a local who said he could get horses to ride the next day, and so we managed to locate him once again (not hard when you can virtually scan the whole town from any semi-high or semi-clear vantage point) and organise for a bunch of us (including some random guests from our former hostel) to go the next day. Nothing was a problem for the horse guy - sure, how many horses you need? What time? How much? Whatever you want... seemed to good to be true, and it kinda was. Once the next day arrived.

A Swede, a Brazilian and an American

I rose instinctly a few minutes before my alarm this day, Friday, because I knew I had to get to the bus terminal for my bus to Cabo Polonio. And for this I was excited. I had heard much about this cape... no electricity, no street lights, just 80 residents (about 50 this time of year), rocks teaming with sea lions, animals roaming free... I could not wait.

People also said that it could suck you in, day by day making you wanting to stay, and for this reason I didn't know if I was packing light or packing heavy. In the end, I took a few things out I didn't think I would need, and STILL my backpack was full... but at least I could throw it onto my back without stressing my vertebrae.

At the bus station in Montevideo, I got talking to a Swedish girl who turned out was traveling alone. So we ended up seating ourselves together and chatting during the 5-hour ride... she seemed young but informed, and had a good grasp of Spanish (as well as English of course) because she had just spent a while studying it in Peru. Wish I had the cash to do that!!

Waiting for the next step in our journey to Cabo Polonio - a monster 4x4 that careers across 15km of sand to the lonely cape - we struck up a conversation with the only other person waiting for the pick-up, an American guy also traveling solo. We all got on from the instant we started talking and as we clambered atop this monster truck and headed for the dunes, I knew it was the beginning of a good crew.

Let me explain a little what this part of the journey was like... we are sitting on top - I mean on the TOP - of the frame of this truck, not knowing what lay ahead of us, as the shrubs turned from plentiful to sparse and the land opened up to an empty beach and gentle waves lapping the shore. The sun was on its way down by this stage, having done a full day of travel, and we looked in wonderment at the scene unfolding before us.

On the beach lay 1, 2, possibly 3 pequins - dead, unfortunately - and scattered along the coastline little shacks mostly boarded up since the end of summer. Ahead of us, Cabo Polonio sat in its windy corner with a smattering of quasi-Greek style stucco villas (though a kinda hippy version) and rasta-themed one-bedders, and of course the lighthouse keeping watch at the edge of the outcrop. Below, the sea lions played mischievously on the rocks... it was a beautiful scene.

In "town" - a circular turning point for the only vehicles that regularly passed through (the monster trucks), and home to a few touristy shops, also mostly closed after summer - we met R's Brazilian friend F, who had been waiting a while for the Swede after she failed to get on the right bus the day before. He had rented a house for them both but said it was too small for us extra 2, and so we got talking to the guy who had arrived from a hostel and headed that way instead.

"Hostel" in Cabo Polonio means a slightly larger shack painted different colours to attract tourists (like honey to a bee), and look "hippy"... but if you didn't see the HOSTEL sign, you'd be hard-pressed to know that was actually what it was. Luckily, we were given the grand view room, with 4 beds but only 2 of us occupying it. The hostel was right on the beach, the view couldn't be better and the kitchen was big enuf for the group of 4, so we opted for a cheaper, supermarket-bought meal and got cookin'.

R being virtually vegan, we sacrificed meat for the night (but just a night) and cooked up a feast of pasta and salsa which turned out surprisingly good. Cracked open several bottles of wine and enjoyed the beachside view with some happy tobacky. God, life can be good sometimes.

Montevideo...inside and out

So where was I... oh yeah, back in the first stop-off of Montevideo in Uruguay... I woke up after another restless sleep in a new bed, but full of happiness because I had had a lovely night with my new Couchsurfing host. He had cooked me dinner, bought some wine and we smoked a spliff together while the still-warm autumn night air breezed through the 9-storey apartment balcony door.

As well as this, he is a travel agent so he organised a city tour for me completely gratis so I had that to look forward to. At his suggestion, I took a shorter-than-expected stroll around the costline of Montevideo... I know this city is smaller but it still takes me by surprise when I look at a map and then actually walk the distance. So small! Apparently there is just 3m people in this country, over half of which live in this city. Crazy!

Before the city tour, I went to R's work and met him for lunch. It was a beautiful day, so we went to a small park nearby and had NOT EMPANADAS. I have put myself on a short-term ban from those little packets of fatty goodness. Oh, how I crave one now!! But now. Must resist...

The city tour was, uh, interesting... not sure how many of you have been on a city tour through a city that doesn't really have that much to offer, but if you can imagine this, you understand why I fell asleep on the little bus more than once. I was sitting next to an American-born man who lives in Australia, and he was also kinda annoying, so I guess that lulled me into sleep quicker than bus rides usually do for me. Nevertheless, it was on a bus - hence no walking - and it was free, so I remained happy.

I had called another CS guy - the one I originally was meant to stay with but didn't due to miscommunication - to meet up for a coffee since we failed to meet through my couchsurfing at his, and he eventually called back and organised to meet me after the tour. He was nice, but a little eager to please, and so I called it a night after (he paid for) dinner, knowing that R and his friend were back at his watching the big football (soccer) match for the local team, and I would much prefer his company.

Back at the ranch, I walked in on the guys screaming at the TV and quietly retired to the corner to play with the computer and steal glances at the game. They were nice enuf to chat with me, though, mostly in Spanish when I could understand them but to be honest, they are as bad as Buenos Aires when they talk. Urgh, almost impossible to decipher sometimes!! What happened to your vowels, people?? Pronounciation?? Anything ringing bells here??

After the game - a winner for them, by the way - we were in high spirits and kept drinking, and of course I ended up being YouTube DJ again, showing them some of Australia's good'uns (some of which they already loved... Architecture in Helsinki, Cut Copy.. que al azar!!)...then R popped off to bed and it was just me and his friend.

I had already spotted the big wallpaper pic of his friend's girlfriend on his computer, so I thought he wouldn't try anything but... then we were sitting by the computer looking at YouTube - which I had slowed to Pink Floyd so I wouldn't have to dance too close with him anymore - and he took that opportunity to start stroking my leg. Hmmm. Yawn...suddenly I am TIRED, would you believe?! Buenas noches! See you LATER.

Life´s a beach,,,,and I wanna ride it!!

I woke on Tuesday with a rapping on my door, and the hostel owner M telling me I had 1 hour before Me came to pick me up and take me riding on the beach with her horses. Nothing like a bit of movitation to get me moving in the morning! I was up and at'em in no time, and before I knew it I was rustling down a dirt road with the beach rising before me.

Me, from Holland, has been living in Uruguay for about 12 years and has 2 horses of the same Criollo breed as M at El Galope. She hardly ever gets a chance to ride with people and so the horses aren´t out as a couple often. So she was more than happy, after a glowing review from M, to let me come along on her spritely little mare Luna. Same general look and temperament, except a little fatter, than M´s horses and I was again on the goey one. Man, did she want to run!!

We wound down a little beach path to the water - distinctly Australian might I add, it could have been Pearl Beach for all I knew! - and before long the sand expanded out in front of us to a flat ocean (well, technically a river but whose checking??) and a low tide, affording us some pretty decent areas to gallop across.

Me was on the slower of the 2, slightly sore in the leg and also less competitive, so I charged on ahead - again - and was waiting for her to catch up most of the time. But what a feeling... one arm on the reins, one arm out feeling the wind rush through, sun blazing above and the horse going like the clappers underneath me with no encouragement needed at all. Which is good, since I was using all my strength to actually grip the saddle, a tiny thing that provided absolutely no support for a girl on a racing steed. Especially when she decided to shy at tiny bits of seaweed underneath her. That was a special little treat.

It has been so long since I rode on a beach, and it certainly did not disappoint. I was extremely grateful for Me for giving me the time to ride, it was an unforgettable experience. Especially with 3 dogs running around me and into the water. And to M for organising it on my behalf... and to the horse for not throwing me. Everyone - BIG HUGS!!!!

After that, I cooked a late lunch for myself and M back at the hostel before gathering my things, and copying some of the pics M took of me riding onto my Facebook. Yay, photos!! Then we raced to the bus stop and arrived about 20 seconds before the bus - phew! And onto Montevideo for me... ahh, sleep time...

After a kinda restless sleep in my new bed in Colonia Suiza, Uruguay, I woke late morning to all the other girls checking out and heading towards Montevideo. Glad to have just the animals and M as company, I bid them farewell and tucked into the 2nd anti-contamination stab at my hair. I would like to think it´s working but who knows...

Nestling down with my Dan Brown book, I was interrupted almost immediately by a curious cat and dog, who clambered all over my line of sight and nudged me incessantly until I gave in and patted them. Well, it didn´t take long, they were so damned cute. Ahh, I miss animals...

So the only thing on my agenda, now I had washed my hair, was to go riding with M on his Criollo horses - a typical breed for Argentina that are not too tall, sturdy, stocky and good for endurance, similar to Icelandic ponies I guess. I was explained about each one...now this is the calm one, this is the good one but she is a bit lame atm, and this one here, she´s crazy. Do you want to ride the crazy one?

I guess all my talk about my experience on horseback had led him to believe I could handle anything, and I suppose by this stage I like to think that is mostly true. At least I no longer let myself refuse a ride, even if it is a bit bonkers. So after a quick jot around the paddock bareback on the partially lame one to test her foot, then another quick lap with the crazy one (they all had hard Indian names I can´t remember) that was anything but quiet, and I made the snap decision, fuck it let´s take this one out on the open road. Haha...oh dear.

So the horse liked to run. No problem. After our first gallop, I was exhilerated, and M outstounded. He started gabbering on about how good a rider I was, and I was slightly miffed about why he thought I was so good... until he told me I ride like a gaucho, lounging deep into the saddle at full gallop - and this horse GALLOPED like all hell had broken loose. Wow. I love it.

Next gallop was a little less successful...after seeing the main highway looming ahead, I was pulling her back and we came across some bumpy land, I lost a stirrup and therefore my sense of balance, and meanwhile she saw some friends across the dirt road we were on and broke to the right straight into the fence. It was at this point I chose to sacrifice myself, breaking my fall on the fence before sliding into the grass and rolling away from the massive beast about to descend on me from above. Gracefully, the horse also saw me and veered away, avoiding me with her hooves. Like all good horses should.

M was understandably concerned, not knowing what the hell had gone on in the 5 mins since he was proclaiming my brilliance as a rider. I got up quickly and walked over, ensuring him I was totally fine and by this time in my life I am an expert faller, and we sat for a bit in the countryside next to the oldest cheese-makers in the town. It is so beautiful there, quite similar to Australia in landscape (except greener), with hardly any cars and such beautiful weather.

After the ride, which was longer than anticipated, we relaxed with dinner, a bottle of red and eventually, a joint, which was unexpected but nice. I was the only guest there that night so I guess he felt a little more at ease. Funnily, one of the girls staying earlier had asked me if I had any so obviously the same courtesy had not extended to her during her stay. I guess this little rasta woman has that effect on some people...

All in all, a fantastic day with fantastic company...despite my niggling feeling of uneasiness sitting by the fire drinking wine stoned with a really nice (and not that old) Uruguian man... maybe my female paranoia getting the best of me... who knows. But he was nice and didn´t do anything wrong, really, so I shouldn´t be feeling that. He told me I was a nice girl and the best rider he´d had in the year they´d been operating, so that is a good thing at least!

Loca + loca = saladamente loca

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Emiliano Lucero

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Emiliano Lucero

Clear window · Report

May 2

Report · 22:03

hey did you see this yet? see who viewed your profile, my results were like what the heck! http://goo.gl/vFd4C whoops sorry meant to send that to someone else :P

Report · 22:03

ha! sounds like spam

Report · 22:06

hahahah

wtf was that all about

not even i knew what i did

lmao

Report · 22:07

did you spam me??

cunt

Report · 22:07

hahahha

i was doing some stupid thing

and something bigger happend

hahah

crazy shit!

Report · 22:07

ok i am off to drink

speak soon my lovely xx

May 3

Report · 21:41

hooollllla

May 4

Report · 16:44

mucho trabajar??

Report · 16:45

hola chikita

no, no tanto.

Report · 16:46

por que para mi esperes volver?

Today

Report · 20:29

hola hermoso

te extraño TODAVIA

:P

Report · 20:30

hello jennifer!!!!

how you doing!!!!!

i miss you 2!ª!!!!

Report · 20:35

of course u do :P

Report · 20:35

hahaha

Report · 20:35

how is iguazu?

muerto?

Report · 20:35

yeah

Report · 20:36

awww pobresito

so...can u get holidays anytime soon??

Report · 20:38

i dont think so...

Report · 20:39

BOO

Report · 20:39

yeah ik...

ur in uruguay right?

Report · 20:42

yup

montevideo as we speak

u know, in montevideo i didn´t have sex with one man

i was there for 2.5 wks can u believe

Report · 20:44

hahahaha

loka loka loka...

Report · 20:45

but the girls...

THEY are loca loca loca in BsAs

Report · 20:45

hahaha...

Report · 20:45

i had plenty of them ;)

Report · 20:45

wow u really are crazy

lmfao!

brb ima go eat.

Emiliano is offline. Your messages will be sent to his inbox.

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South America...al fine!!!

By J Sophie Wilson (Albums) · Updated at about 3 weeks ago · Taken at Brazil (Rio), Argentina (Iguazu)... · Edit album

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In this album: 9

• Jeremy Wastall
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Loca + loca = saladamente loca jajajajajajajaja...

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Me and little miss loca riding high in Uruguay countryside...gotta love a horse with spirit. Shortly after this, I fell off.