COLOURED AIR

In the shower this morning, trying to sober up, I got to thinking about coloured air. As I watched the steam escape from the window, I imagined the cold air coming in to replace it. And then I started thinking how awesome it would be if all air was coloured. Hot purples, reds, pinks and oranges spinning and spiraling past each other en route to a higher place. Replaced by cool deep greens and icy blues quietly creeping along the floor. I thought I had really figured out something special. But now in the sobriety of evening I realize that such a rainbow of beautiful colours would only serve to block all the nice scenery that I love so much. And probably make driving pretty dangerous.

WHITE WATER RAFTING?

I recently visited a town called Mendoza. At the base of the Andes it is famous for it's wineries and rafting. The snowmelt from the huge mountains keeps the rivers pumping in what seems to be an otherwise arid landscape. Fancying a new adventure I signed up for a days white water rafting. But due to all the sediment brought down en route from the mountains the water water rafting was actually more like chocolate milk rafting. But regardless of this it was still very scary and thus, very fun. And I very nearly fell out of our raft at least once.

Our team; Two Mexicans, two Belgians, an Argentine and myself.
Paddling for dear life; I was scared, but I guess everyone else thought it was funny.
Approaching the rapids.
Facing the fear; our raft gets bashed between the rapids and rocks. No one died.

MATERNITY CLOTHES

During my first week or two in Argentina I was in constant amazement at how many pregnant women I seen out and about. 'Everyone must be super fertile here', I thought, 'Must be all that Argentine beef'. But today I realized why I have noticed so many round bellies. No one here wears maternity clothes. Normal tank tops and T-shirts have become belly tops with apparently no embarrassment. Realizing this (if it is indeed the case) got me wondering about our culture of maternity clothes and, essentially, covering up our pregnancies.

GLIMPSE OF THE ANDES

RED LIGHT DISTRICT

I'm in a city called Cordoba. I went for a midnight stroll last night to check it out. Coming back to the hostel just one street parallel of the main street I suddenly found myself in the wrong area. Four manly ladyboys outside a bar made me some kind of offer (or perhaps paid me a compliment) and there appeared to be a person posing on each street corner wearing a tight dress. Whether it was a man, woman or combination I couldn't always tell from my side of the street. But as I got nearer the city centre a figure appeared out of the shadows in front of me. With chest stuck out the figure flicked it's long hair, stepped into the light and said something in a deep, husky voice. As the street light hit the figure's profile I burst into a laugh. It was basically a tall, fat man with tits in a red dress. Five o'clock shadow and a deep smokers voice did nothing for his femininity, but I tried to swallow my laughter as to not cause offense or get beat up. And then at the thought of being beaten up I took a quick look around for any pimps. But once again burst out laughing as I thought 'perhaps the ladyboy is his own pimp'.

FLAT TYRE

My bus from Mercedes to Curuzu got a flat tyre last night. There was a loud sound followed by a dragging, grating noise. Nobody seemed to know what had happened and the bus driver didn't stop. He just let it slow down until we were scraping along at about five kilometres an hour. Since I couldn't see what had happened I had awful visions of a motorbike (and rider) being dragged under us by an apathetic driver. But ten minutes later we pulled into a little service station so I guess the driver knew what he was doing. And I even managed to catch my connecting bus to Cordoba :o)

TOO COOL FOR SCHOOL

This cool kid was just chillin' at Corrientes bus station, Argentina.

R AND R

I'm now in a small town called Mercedes in Northeastern Argentina. I've been here for three days staying with the family above. A friend at home put me in touch with Sam, a man from back home who has been living here since 1971. Sam and his family have been great to me. When not resting by the pool or eating home cooked meals I have been learning about local history and farming practices in the area (Sam's expertise). It's really been great getting an inside view and staying with such a wonderful family so close to Christmas. I could easily stay here much longer, but I'm catching a bus south tonight to see a city called Cordoba.Photos:
-The family; Sam, his wife, Norah and their son Nikko.
-Relaxing days, my clothes dry near an old polo field in Sam's garden
-Sam's house and pool

Buenos Aires Museum

IGUAZU FALLS

After a tough week in Buenos Aires (sick with a chest infection) I decided to get out of the city and into some clean air. Eighteen hours away by, surpisingly comfortable, bus lie these beautiful and huge falls. Right on the border of Brazil and both countries own half the falls. I went with some cool lads I met on the bus and we did the adventure tour. The adventure tour (which any old granny could do in my opinion) was a four wheel drive through the jungle, then a speed boat ride down the river between the two countries. Over some rapids and white water and up the waterfalls. The highlight was when our 'loco' captain took the speed boat under one of the falls and got everyone entirely drenched. But apparently this is normal.

TANGO

I had my first ever Tango lesson yesterday. To minimise embarrassment I went with some friends. We were hoping for a beginners class, but could only find mixed level. So after a couple of Dutch-courage beers we got on the huge dance floor. It was great fun, but we certainly didn't look like the people in this picture. For the most part I felt like a clumsy pubescent boy at a school disco. And the three Argentine instructors seemed to make a point out of picking on me, perhaps because of my joking around at the start of class. But after ninety minutes, all four of us beginners were able to successfully dance the first eight steps without falling over or stepping on each others toes. It was lots of fun and I'd love to go again.
Image courtesy of Google.

BIG MANLY HUG

Today I checked out the famous antiques fair in San Telmo. A few other backpackers and myself went for a sunday walk to check out the street tango and live music everywhere. The atmosphere was great with tonnes of different things happening. But the highlight had to be this big burly man holding up a sign saying 'free hugs' in Spanish. Just as I was asking what the sign said, the girl I was asking ran over and took a hug. We watched him for about two minutes and were amazed at the number of people making the most of his offer, both men and women. After a lot of harasement by my Mexican and Dubliner companions I also went over for a hug. He whispered in my here (in Spanish) 'Good luck, have a good trip, thank you.' I would love to say I felt great afterwards, reenergised and full of love, but to be honest I just a little quesey at hugging a strange man.