Get back in the Saddle

Some people will tell you that when you fall off a horse, you need to get back on. Most use it as a metaphoric rally for encouragment, a way to say "no matter what, never give up". Well I am pretty sure most of the people who say this have never ACTUALLY fallen off a horse, because if they have, they would know that it's not that easy to get back on, especially if the horse is bleeding, missing a horseshoe and kind of pissed off. A Thanksgiving day horseback riding adventure through a small town just outside Cordoba, was an amazing experience. We began by drinking the traditional Argentinian drink, Mate, which according to history was created by the Gaucho (an Argentinian Cowboy) who, having very little money, picked the leaves and shared this new drink, and long conversations, with the travellers he'd meet on the "road". Then after some cheeky conversations with our guide, Marcello, he said "I know which horse I am going to give you", with a laugh (although I'd like to think the crash was just coincidence.) All my years of owning our childhood horse, April Fools my Pepsi Pony, and taking riding lessons came flooding back to me; it was a breeze (and besides these horses are trained to just follow one another anyway, lets be honest here.) We went through the barren hills, waving to homes as we passed, through the rocky terrain and even forged through the river twice. On a fairly routine climb up a rock path, my horse went to follow Marcello's, but instead put its foot directly into a rock crevice, got stuck, went to put its other leg up, and began to lose its balance. At this point as the horse begins to roll to the left, I did what Mick (who was behind me) called "a ninja roll" off the front - abonding ship before my little pony took a pretty nasty spill down the rocks. After watching in what I could only describe later as a big tree, falling hard, and of course realizing that I was unscratched, I cried out "oh no, the poor horse. In the end, she has a lot of bleeding on her legs, and over her eye, but I got back on the horse (because I knew they wouldn't have created that saying for nothing), and finished my amazing journey. When we got back, instead of turkey we had a gluttonous Argentinian BBQ, where I ate so much steak and bread from the grill, that I felt at one with my fellow stuffed American people.



After Port Iguazu, and a 20 hour bus ride, where I had more bad luck of a shockingly soaked bag, which stunk for almost a week after arrival, we got into Cordoba. Our first day we thought it was a ghost town, but turns out it was just a national holiday.On our second day we took a 1/2 hour bus ride to Alta Gracia, the hometown of the well-known freedom fighter Che Gueverra. By the time we got off the bus, it was around lunchtime, and we couldn't believe the ghost town we found, again! Through my broken spanish I figured out that Siestas (afternoon rests) are not a myth; this entire town shuts down from 1-4.Apparently it is quite common all over South America, so now there is actually an excuse for my overhwhelming find food NOW sense of urgency, so we get something to eat before everyone retreats to their homes. Another thing that is funny about South America is that it is filled with what I call "classics" - really old cars, some I remember from back in the 80's and some that I have never seen, but it does make for a great game of punchbuggy. While in Alta Gracia we also visited a beautiful old Jesuit building that had been turned into a museum about Alta Gracia, which was possibly the most boring museum ever, even more so since we couldn't understand any of what they were saying.


On our third day in Cordoba we checked out a couple of museums, and took a walking tour to see all the other sites. The city population is made up of mostly college students which makes for a great vibe - lots of hopping bars, restaurants and shops on every corner. In between the modern architecutre are the most beautiful spanish churches, some made of stucco and some of stone, but enough to finally make me feel like I am really in "South America." That night we followed the young guy who works at our hostel, Phillippe, to his college to watch a final presentation him and his classmates were performing on traditional Argentinian practices. They fed us free empanadas (delicious dough filled with different kinds of meat) and danced the Folklore. They loved our attempts at speaking spanish and laughed at our dancing skills, when we tried to partake.
After a day on the horses, the next day we decided to go on a trek to the Parque Nacional Quebrada Del Condorito, where we hoped to catch a glimpse of some Condors (as you might has deduced from the name.) We picked up a new dutch friend, Jasper, and boarded a local bus. Before we got on we asked the bus driver if this would take us to the park, and he said yes. As we climbed steadily into the Argentinan hills, going further and further into the middle of nowhere, the bus abruptly pulled over, the driver waved at us, told us to get off, and we couldn't help but think that this must be the wrong place. We literally were at the end of a dirt rode going into the middle of nowhere, thinking that all the locals were having a good laugh as they peeled away. In the end we hiked for 2 1/2 hours into the national park and got to see amazing landscape and lots of Condors, and a bus actually picked us up on its way back into the city.

After another 20 hours bus trip we are currently in Port Madryn, Argentina, in the area known as Patagonia. It's barren, cold, expensive and filled with lots of wildlife!! Will keep you updated on our trip south to the "End of the World."

If only we could dance like no one's watching

One of my favorite things about visiting my parents in The Villages, a colossal city of "active-adults" awkwardly transplanted in the middle of central hicksville Florida, is going to one of the town squares around 5:00pm when the festivities begin, and do so this early because everything closes at 10pm, apropos to the age group. Everynight, rain or shine, a band blares music from the gazebo, sometimes oldies, sometimes classic rock, but it always draws a crowd, and this is when the old folks come out to dance. Whether it is a bunch of women square dancing, the local dance club doing the electric slide, or an adorably old couple decked out in beautiful attire dancing the tango, it is a sight. It always leaves me wondering, what has happened to dancing? Hundreds of years ago, a dance hall is where you would meet your husband, and up until a few decades ago people's nightlife centered around the foxtrot, the waltz or the hand jive. Today if people say they are going dancing, it means getting as drunk as possible and sweating on eachother in a dimly lit room. After our first salsa lesson in Montevideo, Uruguay Mick and I left wondering; when we get home, where can we do this dance without people making fun of us? Wouldn't it be great to have organized dancing again? I think so.

After Buenos Aires Mick and I headed to (as my friend Timmy used to like to say in his travel blog) a "UNESCO protected site" called Colonia del Sacramento in Uruguay. The Portuguese founded Colonia in 1680 to smuggle goods across the Rio de la Plata into Buenos Aires, and it still has all its historic charm.The old town is a small peninsula surrounded by the ocean, with cobblestone streets, an old lighthouse, and charming tile-and-stucco homes.

Unfortunately we spent our first afternoon there searching for an ATM that worked, and after a few hours of panic and conversations about what are we going to eat without any money (and a lecture to Mick from the newly nicknamed "The General" (yours truly) about how it is important to have a back-up plan), I exchanged a $100 bill and we went out to eat.

The next day we rented bicycles and rode along the coast to get out of the main tourist area. All along the sidewalk were locals sipping their national drink, Mate, a ceramic mug filled with what looks like oregano (but tastes like a green tea on steroids), a metal straw coming out the side (with a filter on the bottom) and a large thermos filled with hot water, which they pour in every couple of minutes. It isn't exactly a practical drink to carry around, but every single group had their Mate (hundreds), some even with special Mate carrying cases.

On our bike trip we saw an old bull ring shut down by the government decades ago, stopped in at an horse racing ring where I tried to feed an angry horse an apple (which provided Mick with much entertainment, as it began to kick and I subsequently ran away as fast as I could), and sat near the beach while reading his and her books. Later that night we took an evening stroll through the beautifully lit old town.

Montevideo, the capital of Uruguay, was next on our sites. After a 2 hour bus ride we arrived at the bus station and I used by Spanish skills to ask "cual numero autobus necessito viejar de el cuidad?". Ok so to any real Spanish speaking people, that probably makes no sense, but basically I was asking which bus do we take to get into the city. After the intial question people seemed to think I knew Spanish, and would answer a million words per minute. As we walked away Mick would say "well, what did they say?", to which I would answer, "I have no idea." We continued this same process with 5 or 6 people, and eventually seeking to have an "adventure" Mick wanted to try and walk. So 1 hour and 40 minutes later with our heavy backpacks on and the feeling of murdering someone, we arrived at our Hostel.

The next day we walked all around Montevideo which we thought was pretty dirty, with garbage everywhere and the constant smell of urine (or so Mick thought). We checked out the Plaza Independence, the Mercado del Puerto (housing a bunch of cute restaurants), an old jail that had been turned into a shopping center, and ate lunch at a craperia (like crapes, not crap). The city's redeeming quality was how laid back it was. It seemed none of the shops opened up until later in the day, and everyone worked to live, instead of the other way around. People moved slow. Cars let you walk across the street with a nice wave. It was completely chill.

That night we took our salsa lesson. During the warm-up we were like two escaped monkeys, jumping around in the back of the room. Everytime the group would turn around and see us I would be embarrassed and want to leave, but then one of the teachers spent the entire lesson teaching us the basics. And it turned out to be a ton of fun!!



After another night in Buenos Aries, and an 18 hour bus ride, we arrived in Port Iguazu Argentina, the gateway to Igazu falls. Since the bedbugs had returned and wrecked havoc on my body, out first job was to exterminate, by dunking all my clothes in boiling water. Then we spent an entire day checking out the falls, and it was completely breathtaking!!! We hiked down to the bottom, across the top, and did a 6K walk to the "Devils Mouth", where the water debris can be seen hundreds of meters away, and the noise sounds like an oncoming freight train. We even payed an extra $50 to see the falls in a full-moon walk. There are no pictures to prove it (since it was pretty dark) but the whole experience was magical.



Last night we took a 20 hour bus ride to Cordoba where we will stay for about 5 days!

Buenos Aires? I think Malo Aires!

For those of you not so Spanish inclined (Mick), Bueno in Spanish means "good", and Malo means "bad", and even though I googled Aires, I don't think it menas anything in English. So after having spent 3 days in the Argentinan capital, Buenos Aires, I have decided to rename it, with a more negative connotation. For my faithful readers, you know that I have NEVER written anything bad about travelling, cities, or my experience on the road (so far anyway), and would tell just about everyone I know to sell their posessions and head off into the world. So to what do I owe this new found negativism?; maybe i can blame it on 3 months in a cozy apartment (without living out of a backpack, owning lots of clothes, and eating Mick-cooked meals nearly everynight), or maybe it is just the Buenos Aires Experience I have had so far, but either way I am hoping my desire to "go home" leaves as quickly as my departure out of this city.

Getting out of Melbourne was sad, more so for me than for Mick, as I had about $600 worth of clothing and shoes that I had accumulated over the 3 months, that I was devestated to donate to some ungrateful people, and the "Sophie's Choice" process of consolidating the rest to fit into my backpack was shockingly pathetic. But after all was said and done we hopped on the plane, first with an 8 hour flight to Kuala Lampur, a 5 hour layover, a 12 hour flight to Capetown, a 2 hour layover, and a 10 hour flight to Buenos Aries.

Plane productivity included: 5 sleeping tablets, several hours of coma induced sleep interrupted only by the passing of a food cart (no matter what hour in the morning or night) two episodes of Glee, all of Braveheart, an episode of the office, all of the 3rd Twighlight move (which I have no idea what it was called, but I am definitely on Team Edward), some heated Tetris battles against Mick, 200 pages of "The Girl who kicked a Hornet's Nest", and LOTS of amazingly good airplane food (Malaysian Air food seriously kicks butt).

Upon arrival I cracked out my spanish skills to ask when the next bus will leave and how much a ticket is. I didn't really understand their response (which seems to be the trend), but I looked pretty impressive in front of Mick. We then began our nearly 1 hour walk (with my 25lb bag, and 10lb purse) to find a place to stay. Eventually we settled for the Goya hotel, which although it boasted a particularly impressive breakfast spread in the morning, was nothing special for nearly $60 a night. Since we arrived at 12:30pm Buenos Aires time, and 2:30am Australia time, we forced ourselves to stay awake, by walking around the city looking for a cheaper hostel to stay in the following night. After a quick meal, we were passed out by 8:30 BA time.


The next morning we hopped on a big yellow, open top, double-decker, tourist trap, I mean bus, to begin our 2 1/2 hour loop around the city. Buenos Aires doesn't have the chaos of the asian cities, nor the motorbikes or constant beeping, but it does still have a lot of traffic (including a 14 lane highway running through the center of the city), and lots of people selling you things. As we walk down Florida avenue people are selling tickets to Tango shows, city tours, money exchange (because we all want to exchange our money with some sketchy guy on the corner), leather jackets and dinner deals. They speak spanish to you, which reminds me that I don't stand out like sore thumb, as I did in Asia. The downtown street is lined with shops selling clothes, gifts and books, and of course lots of Macdonalds, Burgerkings, Subways and other Western shops.

Buenos Aires is split up into 12 districts and thanksfully the tourist bus showed us some of the more cultural sites and buildings, and some of their beautiful architecture (which ussually has some sort of graffiti on it.)

We hopped off the bus in the area called "La Boca" which sits on an inlet of water (which is really more polluted brown sludge), and although it was very touristy, the colorfully painted building facades and paper machete characters from Argentinan history coming out of building windows and standing in doorways was nothing but fun. We then got off at the "Reserva Ecological" which is a large ecological preserve, where people bike, run and one group (clearly of westerners) bird watch.



The real reason we got off here wasn't to enjoy nature; the promenade was lined with churizo stands that looked amazing, and I was hungry. We then went then drove through the ritzy area and hopped off near the Japenese and botanical gardens, taking a quick stroll through.


That night we got back to our hostel, grabbed some yogurts from the grocery store, since the pork-churizo from lunch was still lining my stomach, and spent our first night apart in 3 months sleeping in seperate dorm rooms.

After spending the morning planning our upcoming days, and finding another place to stay for the night, we walked to the train station, and headed to Tigre, a place where apparently the more affluent Argentians spend their weekends. Although the area was nice, we didn't find anything special. The inlets of water, a common rowing area, was again brown sludge and the screams of the local amusement park could be heard. We had a walk around the small town, a bite to eat, and a lie on the grass and called it a day.

Ok, so you are probably wondering why I don't like Buenos Aries. Here goes:

1.) Well first off it is expensive, some things are more expensive than Australia! A night in a 6 bed dorm is $15, a 200g box of cereal is about $6, a meal is $15-$20, a bus ticket is $100+ dollars and the list goes on. I had assumed things would be cheap, and they aren't!!!

2.) On our second night we stayed at a hostel in seperate dorm rooms. When I first climbed into my bed, I pulled up the covers and noticed a little black bug in the sheets. I flicked it down onto the bed below me (which some spanish girl had stolen from me, even though my stuff was on it already). I fell asleep but had an itchy sleep for the next couple of hours. At about 2am, I woke up and with my flashflight found them. Black bugs on my pillow and in my sheets, little baby black bugs crawling all over everything. I started smashing the babies, leaving blood splatter all over the sheets. At this point I couldn't switch rooms, so I dealt with it, by turning my flashlight on every time I felt something and either killing it, or looking like a crazy person when there was nothing there. I have stayed at some sketchy places, all over the world, but never had an experience like this. Needless to say I got very little sleep, and an immediate hatred for Malo Aires.

3.) Everything is booked! In Asia, I could navigate on the no plan plan, and roll up to place without a reservation. Here all the hostels are booked, and if you don't book 5-6 days in advance, you are going to spend your days looking for a place to say, which we did. On the first day we went to a hostel to check it out, and as we left Mick goes "this is what you call a DIVE". Little did we know that two days and 200 bed bugs later, we would be crawling back to The Dive begging for a room, which turned out to be fine.

4.) There aren't a lot of travellers. Everyone in Asia on the very clear backpacker route, was from Europe, spoke English and wanted to make friends with you. Here, most of the people in hostels are from South America and just staying in the hostel because it's cheap. Which doesn't make for a great atmosphere.

5.) There are random holes in the road (one of which I fell into) dog poop everywhere, graffitt on everything (including many historical buildings) and the city is dirty. Now as we walk down the street we yell "hole" or "poop" depening on what it is we need to avoid.



6.) The food isn't great. Granted we have been eating at the middle of the road priced restaurants, but one night I ordered a waldorf salad, and they brought out a chopped up apple, 2 walnuts and some celery, with creme on the side? We ordered a pizza last night and there was so much cheese on it, I am surprised we didn't go into immediate cardiac arrest. Maybe there are some good Argentian restaurnts around, but we can't find them? The one place that looked good, was about $40 a plate.


Well enough negativity. Yesterday we arrived in Uruguay, or "U R GAY" as Mick likes to call it. I will write more about it in a couple of days, but lets just say, I no longer want to pack up my things and head back to the USA! Uruguay is great!