Bueno Buenos

Ok guys lets make the transition easy, after this, i'll officially know what a blog is and no longer have deniability. ok

So yea after rushing through jammed traffic to the airport  cursing the civil engineers or whoever put 3 sets of traffic lights on a 5 lane road going to an international airport, only to wait an hour in check-in, I, in infinite geniousity rushed to the boarding gate because the paper in my hand and the check in seniorita told me I'd better.  Of course there was nothing but waiting to be done there, not that you'd guess after you get directed by a shout from an airportress with a talkradiothing through a temporary walkway encouraging you to hurry, you enter the gate lounge and there's just like 300 people sitting around.  Sitting around desperately trying to have nothing to do with each other.  So I went and got a burger.  Passing people still running with their luggage towards where I've just come from.

Damn you burger king when I ask for a veggie burger, don't make it a salad burger! Is that REALLY what the average vegetarian who's been forced to buy one of your burgers is looking for? Here's a hint: THEY'RE PROBABLY HUNGRY!
(for those of you who are unaware Burger King do a yummy onion ring burger for the desperate carrot muncher)

Ok, anyway we board like an hour later, after I've advertised my self quite satisfactorily by munching ferociously on this burger, with far too much sauce, getting it all over my beard….some people laughed….mmmm. So I board and realize I'd forgotten to ask for leg room.  I'm in the middle of 4 seats, in the middle of the plane.  There's kids in the front row! their legs don't even reach the end of the cushion and I've got my knees for earrings behind a tiny Argentinian who just likes to recline even though her feet don't touch the ground while she seems to be explaining to her friends the historical significance of Waitangi day to the Maori culture pre-settlement.  Oh dear.  Its not long after this I discover the 8 hour flight is actually more like gonna be 12.  damn maths. Damn cramp.

Anyway, long flights are all the same I expect, had good company with my single-serving friends.  Babies screamed on queue, even got a few beers.  But the air is so dry Im asking for water constantly.  not that they oblige AT ALL.  I mean, heres breakfast, and they offer coffee or tea, but have cartons of juice on the cart. So I ask for juice and the lady says "of course" then proceeds to leave my cup empty because breakfast comes with a pre-packaged juice.  WHAT THE HELL MAN???…….what did she think? By asking for juice I was actually trying to tell her I wasn't thirsty at all? That I would like less fluid then everyone else, and that that 100ml container was ample, ample.  ugghghhgggh.

This blog is getting boring so I'll speed it up.  I hadn't heard from my Buenos Aires contact so I was a bit stressed. Didn't sleep.  Saw a few mountains out a window a few meters to the left.  Got there, feeling pretty tired. First thing I see is Toitoi, EVERYWHERE on the ground.  Maybe its somehow different, but it looks like we just landed in Westport. Cant say much about the airport other than there's 1 duty free shop and they dont care if you've an outbound flight, they just give ya 3 months on your NZ passport easy as.  It reminded me a lot of Fiji, its real relaxed, cheap, falling apart etc. 

After getting some duty-free for my host to be, I wander out with Harley, the guy I sat next to on the plane. but I've forgotten my guitar! mmmmm.   My perpetually absent mind.  So I don't realize this until Im half way out to the next terminal looking for a currency exchange, which of course is loaded with people and who's only serving staff member looks about as hurried as a stoned hippo.  So I go back and try to figure out how to get my guitar, talk to the information lady, talk to the security guy (no inglise) then the oh so helpful Aerolinias Argentinas staffman who directed me to a locked door in an abandoned corridor...... and watched me wait there... with no expression on his face. ... I think he could have at least enjoyed f*cking with me,  just to make it worthwhile to someone.  So he watches me wonder back, wait in line again, and ask someone else, who promptly runs all about for 15mins around the airport and sorts it out for me.  Bueno.  Turns out I have to go wait in an abandoned corridor next to a locked door.  At least I have the company of a spaniard with me.  His Visa got denied, so he can come into the country but his bags cant.    …. yeap.   Argentina por favor.

Anyway my guitar comes thank Hesus, and I meet up with Harley, and we take the US$14 bus to town instead for the public bus that costs 1.25 pesos…exchange rate is roughly 4 pesos/USD.   Hmmmmm.  I knew it, but it's good to have company when you're going into a new city at night with no-where to stay, and he was a good sort.  About 6'3 120Kg Rugby player with tattoos etc.  Sweeeeet, he can smack the muggers while I try to unpack my 70cm sawtooth spine-d Gerber Machete.  He proved himself honest too when I left my laptop in my trolly and got on the bus without it.  He carries it in, " figured this must have some significance" he says.  Not a good start but at least if I loose my gear, it wont be from mugging.

We get to town and try to find a bar.  Gerhard said his impression of Buenos Aires was, loose, dirty tiled footpaths, smog and dog shit.  Well thats just unfair! You cant even see the dog shit at night. fool.  We look everywhere for a waterfront bar, or at least something not too poncey.  But fail.  I go to a bookshop: Donde esta la cerveza senior?  I understand nothing of what he says but his hands tell me the story, and a block or two later notwithstanding me trying to commit suicide by looking the wrong way before crossing the street,  we're enjoying a couple of coronas and heinekens. No local beer present. 

The waitress is lovely, and naturally stunning, but we go in search of the local drop.  On the way I try to call Val (my contact) with no success, ….well, that's a lie, I managed to get my first "Hei Gringo!" call by a magazinestander I couldn't hear over the sound of my fists punching the pay-phone.  Phones in Argentina cut out…a lot it would seem, and pay-phones seem to give your money back even if you make a call, and sallow it if you don't dial.  Either way money is useless here.  At the next bar the people are also friendly, but it seems everywhere is closing, it's friday night after all and it's 7:30pm.   what the hell?  Anyway they give us a litre bottle of stellar and beer nuts ( a welcome standard here it would seem) and let me use their phone 4 times, with no success.  It seems if you dial a wrong number and ask for Val, the best option is to say nothing and hang up.  That should make the message clear in a place that the phones cut out so often.  That will prevent them calling again and again just incase they thought there was a mistake.

So we go to an irish bar, the 1st without english-speakers.....playing latin music full on.... and by far the most hostile to the two americans that we obviously are.  1 thing I discovered quickly, if you're a white guy with limited spanish, it's simply a fact that you are an american, and you deserve to be treated like…well not shit, because they obviously love that on the streets, but certainly like something in-between an absolute idiot and a drunk, uninvited guest at a funeral.  so yeah, I only had american dollars which they made a point of hating - even though they're used almost as much as pesos EVERYWHERE, but we nursed out local ISENBECK beer (terrible, but not as bad as Lion Red, so…) and I tried once again to call.  I'd all but given up trying, but I'm glad I ripped of the phone sex fliers from the phone-box one more time and to call Val, because I finally got through, got an address, said a desperate goodbye to my Burly buddy and jumped in a taxi.  I honestly didn't give half a toss he changer me double, I knew he did, even while he was pretended it was a favor, but I just wanted to rest.

Im also glad he came back in 5 mins after dropping me off to see why I was looking so despondent, as I had left the paper I'd written the address on in his car and was standing on a street with 50 apartments at 10pm wondering if I should just yell out.

So I rang the buzzer and met my beautiful host who made me dinner and the monumental effort of communicating with the gringo who'd suddenly called her and was now falling asleep at her dining table.  Muchos Gracias Val, beso grande.


Slept like a freaking log.

I pretty much slept all day and went shopping in the afternoon, much to my excitement..which was of course much to Val's surprise.  Milk comes in plastic bags, like a sachet of about 500ml.  So does Yoghurt, and I bought one. About $1.  At home after the green grocer visit and everyone asking if we were married, Val showed me how they use the sachet.  She just cuts the bottom off a plastic container, in this case a mineral water bottle, and stuffs the sachet in with a corner cut out, voilà.

After that I tried to contact my mate in Uruguay, tried to call the Boat company (no dice, phone cut out) I was going to use the next day (yesterday)  and stayed up trying to find cheap accommodation.  No luck, Note to self: Book days in advance!  Especially when Carnivalle is coming.

So the next morning I say my goodbye to my Host who I really cant thank enough…my spanish seems to be getting worse, and walk 20 mins to the bus stop and wonder how the hell I ended up with a huge 17KG Backpack, + 2 bags and a guitar.  I used to laugh at people I saw like this, "what an idiot!, You don't need all the gear!"….and here I am.  Gringo babblingo on his way to catch a bus, which, it turns out, doesn't take notes, and I've no coins.  A local woman pays for me and wont accept my notes in exchange either.  You money is no good once they decide on something here.  Quite nice really.  These people are far more friendly.

So I go to the boat terminal with no ticket, through customs with no worries, try not to advertise my new Laptop as I try to steal internet and find accommodation.  Mild success in both cases.  I get 15mins before they cut it off, get to use my PC (that's right IBM Im taking back your acronym for my Mac) on the net for the first time, and send an email to a backpackers, an expensive one, in Montevideo in the old part of town near the waterfront.

Colonia is where the boat stops, a beautiful Historic town with art history and culture, ruins and buildings etc A must see!
…apparently.  But I've got a mules load, it's stinking hot, and I'm not sure I'll even have time to find a place to stay.  So I just go straight to the bus to Montevideo.  See you on the way back Colonia…..maybe.  The buses work like this: Everyone crowd around and push each other blatantly out of the way which each bus fills and then drives away 1 by 1.  And then we all wait for the next 3 to arrive while more ferry travelers arrive.  So I eventually get on after being forced to barge my way through people who stand in your way oblivious to anything, but quite happy to be bumped and knocked and wakked by my gear as I try to get to the luggage area.

The bus waits to be filled while the matching blonde german couple attempt to get 2 seats each, in their infinite wisdom, hoping that the bus staff, having never encountered weary travelers trying to get more that they've paid for, will let them be.  But, shockingly, they of course are asked to move, at which point they give up - after much disgust, and sit next to each other (how utterly vulgar), and to which are provided the insult of a gentle request from the stunning columbian girl next to me, to please reduce the massive reclamation of the seat on which our little SS man is sitting.

I try to make conversation but she's not really interested.  So I sit and watch the terrain roll by.  Its a LOT like NZ really, but obviously a lot poorer with a lot of white small buildings about the size of bedrooms with washing etc, dirt roads in between.  I see some hitchers.  After getting out of the city Im convinced I want to start traveling more like I do In NZ.  Hitching, out, away from cities.  Uruguay seems lovely, I cant compare it to Buenos Aires as I didn't see much of the latter and it would be unfair.  At the bus terminal I realise I'm 6km away from where I thought I'd be, and ask a local to point out on a map where I am.  Thank you wi-fi.  I cant recommend it enough, having a laptop makes life a LOT easier! and I realise my booking was successful! Result!

I grab a taxi and actually almost manage a conversation.  He charges me double too, but once again, I don't care.  Im gonna put down some roots and sort myself out here, then proceed with efficiency.

The hostel is lovely, the hosteller is friendly (you girls should check out uruguayan guys, very beautiful).  The place has hot water, a nice bed with lockable drawers and is quiet & near the water.  Niiiiiice.  I go online briefly then fall asleep.

OK, I cant guarantee I'll ever be bother being this detailed again, but I'll keep you'all updated. 

Chau