Bariloche

Patagonia's largest city is an "ideal place to shop and run errands"....Bariloche didn't really sound too appealling in our travel guide. The same guidebook bible, whose name I need not mention, then led us to a hostel that was closed for the season. Normally after a 21hr bus this may try your patience a little.

And then, with a huge stroke of luck, we stumbled upon what would be one of our favorite hostels in the world so far, the Bariloche Hostel Inn. We entered a warm, cozy and modern chalet that felt like home immediately. Perched up on the hill, it has plenty of balconies that overlook the lake and mountains. The living rooms have a flat screen and wood fired stove. The bedrooms and bathrooms even had heated floors.

We later found the Swiss had left behind a rich number of choclate shops, our favorite being the mint, pistachio and raspberry varieties at Mamoushka.

We dropped our bags and decided to have a quick look for ourselves at this city built up by Swiss and German immigrants. You couldn't help but feel like you were in a French alpine village or even Lausanne as we approached the lake. There are wooden chalets everywhere and Steph was already eying chocolate shops galore. My first impressions of our gateway to Patagonia were much more inspiring than what we were led to believe. I think when you can find a perfectly comfortable home away from home, this can make all the difference in these kind of towns.

We soon realized the full benefit of the 7eur to stay there was not just the free breakfast, where a little lady toasts your bread, it was the free dinner at the bar the sister hostel a few doors down. This basically paid for all our food too.

The meal was a mystery every night but the benches were packed with traveller's from both hostels. We met other travellers who had made the long detour, and one who was crossing Argentina on his bike! How could we complain about long bus rides?

The staff at Hostel Inn always called us by first name, even in such a large hostel.

The Bad News > I asked Marco at reception how exactly we could get down to El Calafate and unfortunately the only real option was a bus that would detour to the coast and pretty much around the whole southern half of the country, taking 28 hours. And so we struggled again to lock down a future plan and ways we could get to southern Patagonia. Large stretches of the famous Ruta 40 that we arrived on were closed further south. The off-season uncertainty and lack of a solid plan had us a little demorilized. We needed to remember that these last few months were to be enjoyed before returning to real life. After a few days of moping and feeling a little homesick, Steph and I got our acts together and now have a solid and very exciting plan which is all booked and ready to go!

The Good News > We have booked ourselves onto a cargo ship, the Evangelista, which will take us through fjords and to glaciers and to (almost) the southern tip of the world! This will be a three night/four day adventure and we will be sleeping in bunks in a 42 bed cabin below decks... let´s put it this way, we´d better not hit an iceberg!!

We are very excited about this slow lane travel. The boat only leaves once a week and we obviously missed yesterday´s so we´re now going to stay put here this week - luckily there is enough to keep us busy here. Public buses run all the way out to the foot of trails, lakes and mountains. I must say I just enjoyed putting our feet up with all the comforts of hot chocolate and books to read. What's more, we now had plenty of time to make excursions further into the lake district. I think a road trip is on the cards... our new friend and roomate, Abdel, is keen to do the famous seven lakes drive.

21 hours to go...

Backpacker Monica couldn't stay forever and it was a sad sad day when we waved goodbye to her after our Uruguayan adventure together. She had certainly injected some fun and life into mine and Chris' now somewhat subdues attitude to travel.

Once again, we were alone. Just like in Sydney, Chris and I dragged ourselves away from the Marriott and found a significantly cheaper place to stay for the night without any of the comforts we'd been used to for the last few weeks. After a cheap street snack (empanada) for dinner, we sat down to decide which direction our travel was going to take. With only three months to go, we are both really feeling the effects of being away from home, family and routine for so long. It feels like we are at the very end, even though three months is still an incredibly long time for adventures and travel. Nevertheless, homesickness was seriously beginning to sink in, especially for me.

Our last night with Monica was a chilled one - we had all intended to go on a big night out in Buenos Aires as a final goodbye. This never happened however since Lis and Jim had treated us to one last night at the Marriott; we just couldn't bare to leave the comforts (and free food) it provided.

Bariloche was to be our next destination, being the gateway to Patagonia. The thing about Argentina is, everything is so far apart. And... so bloody expensive to get from one place to another... We hadn't expected this of South America and our wallets put up some protests.

Nevertheless, we set off on our 21 hour journey to Bariloche. The bus was incredible with an sirline style lunch plus a hot dinner of ravioli and even breakfast! It certainly was impressive (though, it should be for the price!) and I even watched a film, airline style, while on board!

Colonia de Sacramento, Uruguay

As Chris has no doubt already mentioned, Uruguay is significantly quieter than Buenos Aires - this can be at least said for the towns we visited. Having said that, it is South America´s smallest Spanish-speaking country with only 3.5 million people.

After our 3 hour bus between Montevideo and Colonia de Sacremento, we set off to scope out a hostel which was deemed suitable for our needs. We eventually found a great place where Monica was encouraged to stay in her very first dorm room - albeit, there was no-one else in the room with us but still, it was a step up (or down?!) from the private rooms we had indulged in in Montevideo. She was on her way to becoming a fully-fledged backpacker! Good job, Monica! It was a cool place to stay actually as it was filled with families who had brought their children to compete in the National Chess Championships next door.. was a lovely atmosphere, especially at night time when the kids were all playing table football in the cute little courtyard outside the rooms.

After our accommodation had been found and judged adequate enough, we set off immediately to see the sights this town had to offer...

Colonia has an interesting 17th century history as a Portugese smuggling port - the intent being to disrupt Spanish control in Buenos Aires. While Colonia de Sacramento may be Uruguay´s oldest town (since European settlement, that is) we found the old town itself to be rather small. Clearly we are spoiled brats who have enjoyed growing up in Europe where antiquity abounds and perhaps we were being unfair - this town did gain UNESCO World heritage status in 1995 after all.

It is home to the oldest church in Uruguay, set amongst quaint cobbled streets where colonial buildings from the 19th century interest its visitors. And to be honest, there is a certain romance in the air as you walk around alongside the rest of the tourists (of Argentine origin - this is so close to Buenos Aires, it must be a hot-spot for Porteño weekends away). Having said this, twenty minutes after we´d arrived in the old town (so 25 minutes after we´d left our hostel in the ´new town´- this town is so tiny, seriously) we found ourselves repeating our tracks already.

As luck would have it, there happened to be a vintage car rally out in full force as we wandered around the tiny 17th century dwellings. Chris´ excitement can only be imagined. Monica and I left him running around to take photos while we explored the cool little artsy shops, browsing at the knick'knacks for tourists.

We spent our two days here wandering around the old town and enjoying hostel life. Monica commented on the weirdness of a few aspects of being a backpacker which I can completely understand... It is quite normal to see travellers of all ages in hostels, for example. In Colonia we chatted for a while with two English men who, it seemed, were travelling solo: one in his mid 30s and one in his 60s. It is often strange to think why people might be travelling on their own, yet I´d say the larger majority of people we´ve met are.

Secondly, it is also quite normal to find backpackers staying in hostels for hours on end, watching DVDs or the TV or purely sitting down to read for hour after hour. Monica commented on this and wondered why people weren´t out and about and enjoying the new experiences a completely different town and culture may bring. Chris and I also took a while to get used to this, however now... we can be placed inside this group of travellers ourselves! At first, when in China, India and South East Asia, the travel bug was still very new to us and there was so much to see and do. We rarely spent any time in our hostels other than to sleep. New experiences and crazy cultural experiences seemed to abound. Yet, when you´ve been travelling for a long time, you tend to slow down quite a lot as we did by the time we reached Australia. This was our explanation as to why, on more than one occasion, Monica had witnessed whole groups of travellers lazing around watching DVDs instead of seeing what´s out there (which is what you´d expect them to do since they´ve paid a lot of money to get to a place: why would they just sit and watch tv all day?!).

We had a few really good meals in this town, similar to those we´d enjoyed in Buenos Aires (though poor Monica is getting quite sick of the ´Sandwich con queso´ option forced upon her as a vegetarian! You did well, Mooonooo!). We also sampled a few new Alfajores varieties which is always a treat... Apart from this, Colonia was purely a place to wander, reflect and chill. We kind of ran out of things to do by the end of our two days and decided to take a bus the long way around town to find the old, now unused, bull ring which we´d read about. After some confusion about which bus to take, the old man who ran our hostel told us he´d take us in his car. And so it was that the three of us had our most local experience yet in our backpacking adventure to Uruguay. The man told us in slow Spanish all about the history of the bull ring and how it was never used for bull fights any more due to animal rights (this surprised me as it´s still ongoing in Spain as far as I know??). He told us about his grandfather who had owned a hotel in the area back in the 20s and showed us the street named after him. We were shown how the town used to be and where the ferry from Buenos Aires used to drop people off before they were taken by train to his grandfather´s hotel. This was such a special experience for us, not least because the whole exchange was done in Spanish and between the three of us we had managed to translate much of what this lovely man had said while replying with a few measly phrases: ¨Aw, muy bien, muy interessante¨ etc.

A Top Montevideo Day

Cosmopolitan Montevideo is experiencing a renaissance of energy while holding on strong to it's time-warp of traditions. Tango music runs deep into the local culture and the streets erupt in a frenzy of drumming every February during the month-long Carnaval. Yet Uruguay as a whole remains a low-key, hospitable place where in just a weekend you can easily melt into the background and experience the local life that is so magically stuck in time.

Let's assume for a minute that you are not on business visiting the "zonamerica" near the airport. Let's assume instead you are here to enjoy Montevideo for a day or a weekend - a very feasable and enjoyable task. Here is my ideal stint in Montevideo.

Chances are the tourist traveler arrives in Montevideo at the port on the ferry from Buenos Aires across the River Plate estuary. My favorite place to stay is a new little boutique hostel just up the hill from the port. The Boulevard Sarandi hostel is more of an inn with tons of colonial charm and is perfectly located which allows a little bit extra time for a lie-in and coffee before hitting the cobbled streets for a wander. The huge, huge rooms have soaring ceilings, rustic furniture and balconies onto the street. Awaking to the click-clacks of horse drawn carriages over cobblestone streets, I imagined it to be an old Uruguayan aristocrat with his monocle and top hat. Montevideo is somewhat frozen in time from the way people dress to the 1950s cars, yous see. Instead the horse buggies that make this amazing sound are usually the bin men collecting valuable paper they can collect for recycling money. Nevertheless its time to get up for a good cup of coffee that is a rare find at a free hostel breakfast.

The town hall building on Plaza Independencia. With no more than 3.5 million people, Uruguay is wedged between Argentina and Brazil . It may be better known for beaches. What you can come to Uruguay for is a truly safe and local south american experience. It has many of the assets of its neighbors with half the fuss and none of the swagger. People are so stereotypically humble, I read that even President Tabaré Vázquez, a doctor, still makes time to see his patients.

The Teatro Solis is probably the one thing I can say you you should not miss here in Old Montevideo. This restored national theatre has an excellent English tour that you should pre-book. Or better yet, score tickets to dance, music and theater year-round at astonishingly affordable prices.

Around the corner from the theater is Plaza Fabini with it's antique stalls and recently restored fountain-filled square. It is perfect for soaking in late afternoon rays. It's also the best place to be in town at lunch time. Now, Uruguay has gained world fame for it's beach resorts and winning the first World Cup in 1930. But Uruguayan food has not exactly gained great acclaim. The best street snack is the civito that we'll get to later. If today you are just in need of casual snack, ignore McDonalds for the uruguayan beer and greasy spoon chain which also has outdoor cafe chairs. La Pasiva is famous for its “panchos,” hot dogs (90 cents).

However I wouldn't follow a craving so fast. As much as I love street food, I would head to one of the grandest restaurants in town. La Corte on the south side of the square is where US president George Bush once ate here on his official visit to the capital. This is not the reason you or I would come to one of the most upscale restaurants. But Montevideo is one of those places where paying a little extra gets you a whole lot more. For about 10 dollars you can order the "Executive" lunch menu and enjoy the full splendor of this institution (during weekdays). Order a glass of Tannat which is the country's most famous wine whose history can be traced back to European ancestors.

The Menu Ejecutivo on Plaza Fabini – Uruguay is small, safe, and shielded in banking secrecy. How much more Swiss could a country get? Business dealings are straightforward and above the table like in Europe.

To walk off a memorable lunch I would make my way down the cobbled walking streets to the Saturday flea market by the port for a few souveniers. After a browse, it's time to go for a drink so head across the road to the corner of Piedras and Yacaré, where you will find the Mercado del Puerto. Saturday afternoons take on a vibrant tone at this atmospheric 19th-century port market. Grilled meat will fill your nose under the cast iron roof. Now to serious matters. You can't leave Montevideo without trying to things: A medio-y-medio and a chivito. Saddle up to one of the market's many bars for the medio-y-medio first, a sweet mix of sparkling and (dry) wine that is strangely tasty.

After a nap back at the hotel (just up the street from the market) your hunger might be back. It's time for that chivito - the Uruguayan national sandwich - loaded with steak, lettuce, tomato, egg and cheese. The best place to scarf one down is across town at Papoñita (18 de Julio), an old diner filled with locals from all demographics. Wash a chivito down with Uruguay's famous grapefruit soda, Paso de los Toros. The soda got it's name from the nearby town (now produced by Pepsico) and was the original brand name synonymous with tonic water before the flavored variety gained popularity.

If you want something both closer and more upscale for dinner, head over to a splendid Italian dinner at Duente, Either way one thing is for certain. My perfect day in Montevideo will end with an intimate tango concert at Bar Fun Fun. The owner will serve you the sweet Uvita drink that the bar created somewhere in it's long, storied existence in the tango history books. Uruguayans of all ages pack into the small space that really doesn't look like anything special on the outside. (Ciudadela 1229) The photos that line the wall boast a random array of visitors that have even included Michelle Bachelet, the ex-president of Chile.

TOMORROW

Go local and go to the beach. There's no need to travel as far up the coast as Punte del Este and the bling of the riviera. Montevideo has it's very own white sand beach along the 22k “Rambla”. The promenada is busy with residents, joggers, and dog walkers. You could even go surfing or fishing.

GETTING AROUND

>> Taxis cost about 100 pesos (€4) for a 20-minute trip and buses are cheap.

Monica Zimmerman becomes a Backpacker!

The New Member of the Crew

I must say never thought I'd see the day. My sister, as well travelled and well cultured as she is, is not exactly the next candidate for Survivor or The Amazing Race (thank god for that). Neither is she high maintenance. She's more of an Aprentice-winning girl. And my sis has simply never came across the chance to eurorail or backpack her way distances long and far, on tight budgets and with questionable amenities (and cleanliness).

Monica was a solid new member to our tired two-man team. First of all she surprised everyone with a proficiency in Spanish we could only dream of. She is also gung ho for adventure. Finally to Mono's credit, she injected a bit of party spirit that our domesticated travel routine sorely needed. We didn't dare propose staying in one night to watch the next episode of 24 on the old netbook, for example.

It was dark when we disembarked from the Bouquebus ferry from Buenos Aires (pronounced bookey boose). The port was as dark and seedy as you would expect. We cabbed it over to a last minute choice of hostel right on the main square. Che Lagarto hostel was in an old historic building that happened to have been the first judicial court in Uruguay. I took a nap to catch up on sleep or lack therof from the infection. The girls shared a few beers and I think Mono quickly began to see the benefits of hostel living. Rooms can be quite charming (especially if you pay a little extra) and the atmosphere is usually very warm with young people hanging out together. Unfortunately, Che Lagarto in Montevideo was not a good example of this and I think Steph and I will try harder to find a fun place to stay.

Che Lagarto - Monica noted the shame that such an interesting building lacked any effort in decoration. However they'd dedicated an entire area “Chill Out Zone”. By this stage, it was clear she had already taken to backpacking in stride. She was both excited to be travelling by boat and bus, and keen to see the advantages of hostel life with other young travellers.

Napped and ready to go - That night we were in for a cold change from Buenos Aires. The air was colder and more windy. The streets outside our hostel on the plaza major were completely barron. We were a bit creeped out on the way to a restaurant that there was not a soul in sight in this town centre at 10pm at night.

The Italian dinner was impressive. The group of men next to us must have had a lot of Tannat wine. One of them echoed an English word in our conversation as he left, exclaiming "Change....Hahahaha!" This was a little odd...but made us laugh till we dashed home.

On the swift walk back, a man in a red car was stopped at the traffic light. He swiviled his head toward us, rolled down the window, and pulled his lower eyelid down with his finger. He sturnly murmured “Peligrosso” (danger). This was not to scare us but to warn us - The truth is that Montevideo is ranked as the safest city in South America (kidnappings are unheard of). Although trash was the only thing in the streets at this hour, that's what the guide book assured us (but perhaps not after 9pm in these parts...).

A market filled day followed. We toured three of the city's markets of crafts, vegetables and meat. The latter was the old mercado near the port. Moonoo, a brave vegetarian, was again in grilled meat territory with lots of parilla restaurants. Unfortunately her travel diet here was restricted to melted cheese sandwiches and fries.

We picnicked by the sea while fishermen scooped up plastic bags of fish who seemed to just jump onto the pebbled beach.

Steph completed a painful mission to find inserts for her giant feet from the smallest cobler we had ever met. "Moonoo" on the other hand, was having success at every cornershop with milka and cadbury's own alfajores biscuits. I think she cleaned out the north side of the old town.

The highlight off Montevideo, and perhaps all of Uruguay, was the Teatro Solis. We had a lovely private tour of this restored state theatre from Lucia. She loved practicing her English while giving us of some local restaurants and food treasures to hunt down.

That night we made it our mission to do so and particularly enjoyed a “chivito” served with fries and a “chop” at cerveceria 'La Passiva'. To round out the night we couldn't leave Montevideo without stopping by Bar Fun Fun which had come highly recommended by our new friends and just about every guide book. To our surprise we were by far the youngest people there to take in what was not a tango dancing club but a proper tango concert.

I read that the most famous tango song was actually written by a poor montevidean waitor who sold and lost the rights to his music before it made music history.

Mono was not to be denied a nightcap on the way home on a street lined with pubs. We laughed at my incessent hiccups from the medicine and a group of guys who had the fiercest air guitar frenzy I've ever seen. Alas, with the few rounds they had at Fun Fun, our lady travellers were more amused than my sober tired body could be. I hated to be the party pooper whose second day on antibiotics saw less reason to stay up all night. After all, we were to hop an early bus to Colonia del Sacramento!

To be continued.

Uruguayan Anti-Smoking Campaign

Backpacking to Uruguay

While Monica watched in astonishment when Chris collected every free bottle of Marriot Hotel Shampoo he could find in order to fill our old Olive Oil bladder from Australia for future showers, she began to realise just what she might be in for: the world of the backpacker is not for the faint-hearted. We were all of the opinion that it would be a great experience for Monica to stay on an extra few days with Chris and I and 'backpack' to Uruguay for a long weekend.

As Monica wheeled her Vera Bradley suitcase - packed to the brim - to the ferry terminal, Chris and I trundled along after her with our tiny backpacks with a few pairs of underwear and a change of t-shirt for the four days we planned to spend in Uruguay. There had been early warning signs that Monica might not know exactly what it meant to stay in a hostel or 'backpack' during our mini backpacking adventure together. On arrival at the Marriott the week before, she had declared to the rest of the family how bizarre it was that Lisbeth had advised her to bring a towel for the trip but, don't worry everyone, she had followed the advice anyway. She proceeded to pull out the tiniest hand towel from her huge, family-size suitcase, complaining how much space it was taking up that could be used for an extra pair of shoes.

"Extra pair of shoes? Monica, how on earth are you going to shower with that?!?", Chris and I demanded at the same time.

"What? This is for showering? You mean towels aren't provided? I thought Mom's suggestion that I bring a towel was for drying my hair or washing my face or something..."

Oh dear... we had a lot to teach Monica by the end of the weekend but Chris and I were determined to make a backpacker out of her by the end of our trip to Uruguay. At the same time we were very worried that the hostel we ended up in would be of a decent standard... The thing with hostels is, you just never know. We've stayed in some absolutely amazing places over the past eight months - places that you just cant believe are still the price that they are. On the other hand, we've also had the pleasure (NOT) of staying in some let's just say 'less desirable' hostels. We wanted Monica to enjoy her first ever backpacking experience and certainly didn't want it ruined by a dirty hostel with a disgusting bathroom and mould on the walls...

We set off on the ferry for Montevideo and didn't choose a place to stay until waiting for a taxi on the other end...

Did Monica survive her weekend away with two backpacker/flashpackers?

Steak 101 - Adventures in Lomoland

Why the Argentine Grill is a Meat Eater´s Paradise

It has now been nearly week in Argentina with hardly any talk of steak. It must be from all the beef in our mouths. Our first week in this country was like a intensive course in beefsteak preparation, consumption and appreciation. Now I'm going to break the silence and give our mouths a rest to take note of an ultimate beef eating experience.

A traveller carting his beef away from baggage claim in the domestic terminal.

Argentines eat more beef per capita than anyone in this world. Couple this with Malbec wine, one of the boldest reds around, and I must say I was shifting in the airplane seat with anxiety before we touched down in ESE. I kid you not - there were butcher's carcasses on the baggage carousel and countless family barbeques along the road into town. We were already in steak paradise even before entering Buenos Aires or nearing any form of kitchen.

I later passed a family eating steak on wooden board plates out of their car in St Telmo on our first day's walkabout in St Telmo.

Clearly, steak is everywhere. The designation of "Parilla" is for steakhouse restaurants that use large grills to cook all kinds of meats, whereas an "Asado" is a BBQ and usually a more casual, family tradition. Apparently the family asado will be fired up on public holidays, on an important football matchday, or any given Sunday.

Alas, t

he following is our account of the Parilla and why it is one of the best grill-ups in the whole world.

"There is nothing I like better than an Asado, and an Asado with folk songs is my idea of Heaven." - George Durrell, The Whispering Land, 1963

In some Parillas they have an Asado pit for roasting meats over hot coals.

First, the charcoal or wood embers are spread out on the ground below the grill, or in the Asado pit itself and the grill is then hung just above this.

Steaks come "A Punto" (to the perfect medium-rare red point), or ask for "Jugoso" if you want yours rare.

A provolete grilled cheese wheel being divided by the waiter.

In the meantime you should try a first course of spicy chorizo sausage to share in bites with the group. Not to be confusused with Spanish dried chorizo, these larger, fatty sausages are sizzling straight from the grill and are the country's most popular entree. Then be sure to have provolete - a grilled wheel of provolone cheese with herbs on top. Next might even be a side portion of succulent asado ribs, still before the main event.

Bife de Chorizo (thick sirloin) is extremely tasty if you prefer a bit more marbling in your steak. A larger group could order a parillada which is a mixed grill mountain that will served be on it's own charcoal hotplate at your table.

Finally comes the huge slab of steak (often 500g-1kg) that are brought down to earth from heaven and easily split between two hungry mortals. Our perrenial favourite was the Lomo - a thick, lean tenderloin (filet mignion) cut. It's so flavousorme that there is no need for intricate sauces. This expertly aged beef has been finished on the pastures of the surrounding plains. It is of the highest quality in the world and should not be fooled around with. There's also usually chinichurri on the table if you do want to add a little zing on top. However the parrillero (grillmaster) will have seasoned the steak with a special steak salt before grilling it to the perfect point with pure compassion. For me there is no better taste in this world than washing down such a morcel of meat with a bold red wine like those of Mendoza. Vegetables are usually an afterthought, but Steph made sure we had some on the side of each heart attack steak dinner.

Chinichurri - It surprised me to learn that this delivous condiment (which I'm now addicted to) was apparently invented by a Scottish gaucho named Jimmy McCurry who mixed the few ingredients he had to spice up his diet.

Pickled pepper jars often sit at the end of the table to be added if you want more spice. However Argentine cooking is rather tame when compared to other Latin American food.

The waiters in parillas often brought round a limoncello to help digest all this grilled meat that now sits in your belly. The sweet Italian digestif is sometimes homemade and could even be of orange flavour. Postres (desserts) were often out of the question for us, unless it involved a walk to the heladeria for some seriously good Italian-style ice cream.

If we did indulge in an in-house dessert, it was usually the flambed apple pancakes.

Don´t mess with the A Team

Above and Beyond - Three tales from inside the Marriott Plaza Hotel

Where else would you find a warning letter under your door, apologizing in advance for the classical music that will played tomorrow as a fire alarm?

This charming hotel felt like home after a few weeks, every time we came back for a return visit and a story to tell the staff who we got to know pretty well at this stage, probably by reputation. The Marriott business lounge became our morning HQ for blogging and planning each day in BA. In the evenings we shared photos and chatted with the lovely lounge assistants, Paula and Sonya.

By this stage my sister had mastered the art of the Marriott “At your service” button on the hotel room phones. I had a growing collection of Havana alfajores that the maids brought by each evening, around ten past 6pm (as well as a growing dulce de lece stash). Steph was keen to be back by this time anyway for the gorgeous tray of meats and cheeses up in the lounge.

One day I woke up early with a painful numb feeling in my skin. At the early hour of 7am, I needed Sonya's help with finding a doctor since the swelling on my chin from (probably an infection) was growing. I was a bit worried about finding an English-speaking doctor on short notice. Before I could even change clothes into something smart enough for the Argentine streets, I was in a doctors office buried deep in this grand old hotel's corridors. It was strange to think there was an actual doctor's office in the hotel as I sat there in my slippers at the desk of this old man. He silenced my concerns and questions of technicalities of infections using his slow calm voice. The old doctor soon had a shot of cortisone in my butt and prescribed a stronger form of antibiotics, urging me not to worry about what was indeed an infection. He shook his head again when I checked when I should take these meds around meals and whether I shouldn't have any alcohol. One pill per day, anytime. As for alcohol, of course you can have a beer or a wine. The doctor then looked deep in thought for the first time. He began to explain (or prescribe) a lesser known wine to tourists, known as Torrentes. This white wine should be administered at around 6pm, with cheeses and maybe a little crackers. He made a second prescription on his doctors pad using a scribble that evolves less legibly with old doctors the world over.

El Gaucho - a natural diplomat and born leader of team B. Monica served as the Spanish interpreter while Steph kept tight control of the budget.

Another day in Buenos Aires, we decided to go out to La Boca, home of colorful shacks, tango in the streets and the world famous boca juniors FC. Getting to the other side of town was a bit of a mission. By now we had to get two seperate taxis to go anywhere in BA, teams A and B, who often competed using teamwork and animated taxi drivers to win each race. On this occasion my Mom and I's team A car was stuck in gridlock outside the presidential palace. We had moved only a few feet in one hour of beating sun. People were getting out of their cars and so did we. A few metros and taxis later, we found the B team shaking their heads in La Boca. An early victory for my Dad and the girls.

The race back to the hotel had to be won by the A team. Our driver was a shifty guy, but friendly and speedy enough. Buenos Aires taxis weave in and out like race car drivers, taming the rest of traffic. At the finish line we rewarded him with a crisp hundred peso bill from the hotel's HSBC cash machine. We were then victim of the old switcheroo scam. He slipped us back a fake hundred note with the all too familiar line in this city - no change. I went into our hotel for change where the receptionist immediately spotted it for a fake. The concierge interroggated the taxi driver but said he did seem like he was telling the truth that this was his first fare the bill could not possibly be his. We´d been had. The bellman was terribly sorry. My mom later found out that he felt so frustrated about how guests were treated in his country. So he took the drivers number plates to the police and the hotel were persuing the matter. The driver would receive a warning to hopefully scare him from ripping off tourists, or lose his license if the police were not satisfied with his story. A heavy hand perhaps for messing with the A team.

El Gaucho

The Gaucho is invariably obliging, polite and hospitable.  He is modest, both respecting himself and his country, at the same time being a spirited bold fellow.

- 

Charles Darwin, The Voyage of the Beagle 1836

It takes two to TANGO....

We decided that we couldn't come to Buenos Aires without learning how to do the Tango! And so it was that we trundled off for our beginners lesson at a famous Tango hall called 'Confiteria Ideal'. 

Before our lesson began we were invited upstairs to the Milonga Hall where local and ex-pats were dancing the Tango. The majority of people seemed middle aged and were there on their own: I thought it was a wonderful way for people to meet new people while at the same time having fun. Each time the music would stop, most people would take a new partner meaning they got to dance with almost everyone of the opposite sex. I really hope there is a revival of ballroom dancing in Europe in my lifetime; I am honestly a big fan and think it would be a wonderful pass-time.

Our instructors show us how it's done...

You could sense our combined nervousness as we were told to stand in a line while we were taught how to 'walk' - this was more like a glide: Torso slightly forward, knees slightly bent, and walk...walk...walk...

By the end of the two hours we had all pretty much mastered the basic steps in a Tango and were being corrected on our posture and the way we interacted with our partners. After a nervous start, Chris did so well in the end that he managed to pick up the nickname Senor Tango Legui! (Tango due to his natural ability for the dance and Legui due to his love for the Argentine Liquor we have found of the same name which Chris has managed to guzzle every night!). I really want to pick up ballroom dancing of some sort when I'm home. 

It was a great night, thoroughly enjoyed by all. Lisbeth and Jim are even hoping to scope out some weekly lessons back home in DC - what fun! We ended the night in a great restaurant in the San Telmo district recommended by Monica's chef friend Dick. The service was fantastic and the food was delicious. A great end to a great evening - our last evening all together in Buenos Aires. 

Our amazing Instructor at the Confiteria Ideal: we would all recommend this place for a lesson if you are on a trip to Buenos Aires. It makes for a fun, interesting and entertaining evening whether you are alone or with friends. The instructors are professional and passionate with lots of patience and time for each and every one of their students.

You know when you've been Tangoed...
Senor Tango Legui slumbers while Mono and 
I played the card game Spit until the early hours...

Quick Trip to Tigre

One day, when we had almost exhausted all Buenos Aires had to offer tourists, we decided to take a trip out to the small town of Tigre by train. I was pleased to see that the trains here run on the left just like in Britain: the Brits were influential in the construction of the railways here apparently. and even the underground runs on the left. It was a calm thirty minute trip through the suburbs from BA´s Retiro station until we reached the small, charming town of Tigre.

The town is apparently named after the jaguars that the first European settlers hunted in the area. It was founded in 1820 and became an important port city. Now Tigre is a popular destination for Summer holidaying Paleños (people from Buenos Aires) due to its vicinity to the city.

When we arrived we found that much of the shops (including those in the daily craft fair) were closed up, presumably due to it being low season. However, after a quick lunch with a great view over the Tigre River, we were still able to take a boat trip. We saw some incredible holiday homes used by Paleños in the Summer months.