I also did a project on Argentina when I was 10, and thought it sounded like an impressive country.  Beef capital of the universe, first of all... 5th largest wine producer in the world...  and then it has just about every type of landscape you can ask for. If it wasn't run by crook after crook, it would probably be a world power by now.

I arrived in Buenos Aires, April 12th or 13th, and took the bus to the center of town. If you count all the suburbs as part of the city, it is hugungous. 9th largest city in the world, but jesus, then the other 8 must be gargantuan. It took 2 hours to get to 'Centro', and I walked around Calle '9 de Julio' until I found the Milhouse Hostel for the first night. There is an Obelisk in the middle of town. Good sign. The hostel was big, and impersonal. Everyone was from England or America, and their conversations were uninteresting. I spoke to one girl, a Mexican named Linda, and she was sad because her harddrive enclosure was broken. I sympathised, and shared some beer, and listened to her friend play reggae and U2 on the stage.

Dog walking maestro	Street Art

When I woke up, I took my bag to the subway station, and went to Palermo, which is a more neighbourhoody place, but with a high concentration of clubs. I stayed in the Giramondo hostal for a week, because the people were friendly.

A French girl arrived, whose father worked for Air France.  She could travel for dirt cheap until her 27th birthday, so she decided to come to BA for one week. I took her for a walk and we went to the MALBA, which was interesting, because of some of the moving exhibits, and the bench that grew along the walls.

She drank a lot, and one morning told me she was going to get a tattoo. I said she should reconsider, because it's permanent. But she said, "no, I had a dream, and I want to get it". So that night, she came back and was chatting away on the internet, and turned to me and asked 'what does it mean, to have crabs?' and I said, well, 'como piojas de la pussy, you know?', and she snorted out a gasp, to realise her tiny little crabs tattooed next to her twat had such a euphemistic literalism. She said 'oh, well they don't call them crabs in France!'.

Another girl, Elise, was into astrology, and to no avail, I explained that the gravitational moment pulling on you at birth cannot determine your life-long personality traits. She did it for a living, and so I was barking at the wrong tree.

I also met a Swedish guy named Sven, who wore a bandana, and who was sure he had Dengue fever. We said he should really go check it out. He said he was getting better, and assured me it is only transmitted by mosquito. I braaied some marinated steak for the Swede, the french girl, and Mauricio from the front desk. Sven called it the best meal he's had in 3 months.

I walked around Buenos Aires for 8 days, and went to every famous barrio. La Boca, San Telmo, Centro, Recoleta, Palermo. 6 hours of walking per day was normal. I decided I was definitely going to Ushuaia, and made a general plan to travel through the Andes, and booked a ticket.

BA is probably most famous for its nightlife. The dance floors fill up at 2am, and clubs start to close around 6am. When you go to sleep in the hostel, they say 'buen descansa' (good rest) instead of 'buenas noches' (good night), because unless you sleep like a dead baby, you'll probably be woken up by people going out at 4am and coming home at 7am.

I went out one night with the French girl and Australian girl, to Club Niceto. It was really er, Nice. But it was actually lots of fun. They had a Bjork-like band, followed by 2 dj's, one played hard gay electro, and the other played Ali-G breakbeats mixed with electro-rock, so it was perfectly suited to my imitation dance styles. Later at about 5am, they played chemical brothers, Block Rocking Beats, followed by Born Slippy by Underworld, and that made my night. The Aussie chick was cool, because she understood my jokes. I managed to score some weed from a rasta in the club, which was great.

The girls of Giramondo	Wind walker
Braaiiiinnnsss	The obelisk

San Telmo is the barrio most famous for the tango. It has lots of balconies and cafes, and every sunday there is a massive flea market, which I attended. They sold nothing of interest, but I did buy a small Nietzsche bandana/cloth, which I thought was novel. I went out one night to 'Milonga' (just a reference to the hall-like setting) tango, in an underground club on Armenia street. I did the basic lesson, and sat down for the rest. I chatted to some old British Iranian woman, who had lived there for 6 months in order to become a tango instructor. I didn't even bother asking her to dance. It was nice to watch, but I did not have much fun participating.

In San Telmo, it was the day of a match between River Plate and Boca Juniors. They are the two rival futbol teams in the area, so the town was yelling and havoc was breaking loose. I ran into some girls from the hostel randomly, and we ate at a restaurant. I got some obscure beef delicacy meal that involved eggs. We watched the game, but since the tv channel did not have the rights to show the game, it only showed the fans in the stands. It was a little bit surreal. People crowded shops showing the game. They tied 1-1.

I walked to 'caminito' in La Boca, and saw the touristy tango and gaucho dancers and souvenir shops. It was kind of cool, because it looks like a Spanish Muizenberg, without a beach, and with more tourists.

For my last two nights in BA, I stayed at Hotel Carly in San Telmo. It's the first time I ever saw a shower that sprays on everything in the room. It was amusing. Some rich folk having breakfast outside didn't want their blow-up double bed any more because it was heavy, so I took it. I finished reading Treasure Island, in English. I started turning page by page with 'Isla del Tesoro', but it was so terrible to read the spanish translation of 'yarr, hoist the jib, stay the mast, y'rapscallion yee'd shiver yer timbers hollow if ever ye saw such a wraith!', which was invariably cast something horrible to the effect of 'oye chicos, toma la cuerda, venga, dejalo! te mieda los espiritus, no?'. The english version was much more exciting.

The nights out in San Telmo involved getting drunk with the lesbian and gay people next door who walked around with blankets wrapped on their heads. We bought bottles of wine in brown packets, from store owners who kept an eye out for the cops.

Live tango	A restaurant showing River Plate vs. Boca Juniors
Souvenir shop	Look ma! No hands!  AAAAH where are your hands, jimmy?!

The trip to Ushuaia was an adventure in itself. 4 days on a bus, 3228 kilometres, the last 600 of which took a full day. Reaching Tierra del Fuego by bus, (Land of Fire, named as such because the natives huddled around fires, giving the appearance from sea that the land was on fire), requires 2 border crossings (4 passport stamps), plus a ferry ride. It also requires an overnight stop in Rio Gallegos, which Bruce Chatwin described as 'a boring town'.

I finished reading Chatwin's book, "In Patagonia", which was really great for that bus ride, since it gave obscure stories from every little town we passed through. Reading about the history of Patagonia as the last Western outlaw frontier, a slaughtering ground of natives, a land of continuous immigration, a nexus of anarchist activity, and site of various paleontological expeditions gives the otherwise barren karoo-like landscape a special charm.

The highlights of the bus ride, since Puerto Madryn looked like a dustbowl, and Trelew looked like a sandpit, were the ferry ride, which starred a pack of dolphins chasing our boat, and the drastic scenery change in the last few hours of the trip. From grasslands, there were shrubs, then bushes, then trees, then forests. From flat land, there were hills, then mountains.

The day and night in Rio Gallegos was boring, though I met two guys from Senegal staying in the hospedaje, who made a rice, egg and beef meal for the 3 of us Africans. I ate until I couldn't eat any more, after 4 or 5 bowls, and then they threw the rest in the rubbish bin, which is fairly uncharacteristic. But I suppose it was a cheap meal. They were into football, so I dropped the only few Bafana Bafana names I knew, (Mokoena and McCarthy). They said Bafana Bafana was "mas o menos". I walked to the estuary to see the birds.

Puerto Madryn	Trelew
Birds in Rio Gallegos	Rio Gallegos architecture
Boarding the ferry	Dolphin

Upon exiting the bus, some ladies handed me a pamphlet for their hostal. It was about midnight... the city was built on a steep hill, and they had a van, so I agreed to 30 pesos per night. The hostal was mostly built out of plywood, but it was homely. I made food, and spoke to some aussies, and suggested a solution for making pizza on the stove, since their 4-burner method was fairly naive.

I got myself beer and wine, and I got outside and immediately I was offered a joint. The hostal was one of 'those' hostals, and I wasn't really social enough, after a 4-day bus ride, to party. I almost did though. There were French, Irish, Spanish, Aussies, Germans. I drank and said I would meet 'them' at the pub.

The night I arrived, it started snowing, being the first snow of the year. So that was lucky. And it snowed. At that point in the trip, snow was still somewhat magical.

I decided to venture into the national park, where I stayed for 2 nights.

The Patagonia Lodge	Me in Ushuaia
Hamburguesa Completa	Asado

I bought food from a creepily named store called La Anonima, and bought a return taxi ride to the national park. The bastard never picked me up 3 days later, and I had to ask some other random taxi driver.

The driver dropped me off at a camp site, and I decided to stay there for the night. It had a nice view, and most importantly, it had trees. I was sleeping in my hammock, so this was essential. The ranger pulled up in his bakkie, gave me some strange looks, and warned me about the foxes. He said they would come in the night. Great.

I set up my rain fly and hammock in a sort of shell cocoon, and covered my bag with the heavy impermeable inflatable double bed i took from Hotel Carly. It rained throughout the night, and it freezing in the wind. When I woke up, the food I hung in a tree was ok, but the garbage bag had been savaged. The fox stole my water bottle. I know it is unlikely, but that is what happened. I know because I went down to the river to clean up the mess, and it was no where to be seen.

That morning I went to the southernmost post office in the world, and saw the fox. It licked its lips, trying to befriend me like the little prince, and I yelled 'voetsek!', and it seemed not to speak afrikaans. But it must have understood the rock in my hand. The ranger came by, and I asked if I could have his coke bottle.

I walked along the coastal trail for 10 kilometers that day. I quickly learned that my blue fuzzy shoes were not designed for vast mud lakes and constant rain. It was absolutely beautiful with the lenga trees in season. It was like being in a japanese forest, I imagine. The coast was also quite special, with its islands and rock beaches. However, it was gruelling, and unpleasant walking 8 k's in wet shoes. The 'waterproof' gloves at least trapped my hand heat, despite being soaking wet.

According to the Yamana museum, which consisted of 3 rooms with informational posters, told of the natives who lived here up until a few decades ago. Now only one full blooded elder remains, and only 50 or so descendants, and the language is all but lost. But they were interesting. They were nomads, naked except for a loin cloth and a smearing of seal fat oil to keep off the rain, and would just spend all day in their smoke huts. I imagine they would do rock-paper-scissors to decide whose turn it was to fetch more wood and club a baby seal for supper. It is worth reading the chapter on the Yahgan language in Chatwin's book, as their language is worlds away from European languages. Every concept was described in terms of a natural or seasonal phenomenon.

I made it to the Gendarmia (Border guard) with Chile, and spoke to the guard for a few minutes to find out where the camping was. I saw the buildings, and went inside the restaurant. I was going to set up my hammock again, but it cost A$10 to camp, and A$30 to stay in the refugio with a fire. I sat by the fire and drank some tea, and decided to stay in the refugio.

An american/ecuadorian couple, Ivan and Linda, who were carrying giant cameras, and worked as photographers, joined me in the refugio, and we drank wine and dried our clothes. If you have a LOT of bandwidth to spare, it's worth a look at their website to see their superior photos.

The next day I attempted a walk with Ivan and Linda, but they walked too slowly, taking photographs of every leaf they saw. I waited for them by the shore, then went back to look for them, but somehow they were in front of me, and I ended up back at the refugio. I waited for the taxi, which didn't come, and went back with some other taxi driver, who felt sorry for me.

The Atlantic waters	Me in the hammock
The fox, moving fast	The lenga trees
Birds	Me by the fire

When I returned from the park, I thought Ushuaia was a great little city. Really one of the most beautiful cities I've been to. The region is called the 'end of the world' because it is the farthest that mankind has walked from 'his' African homeland.

I bought some new shoes, Coleman 'Weathertek' shoes, because this was just the start of my trekking adventure. Got a great price, A$200. Like my impermeable gloves, they also later turned out to be, er, water resistive, rather than resistant.

I befriended a Kiwi named Corrina, and we went to see the Presidio museum, which housed 600 criminals around the turn of the 20th century. It was the biggest exhibit I've ever seen, with something like 135 cells containing exhibits on an array of obscurities. It had a map of all the crashes on the Cape Horn peninsula, (a shit load). It had a miniature HMS Beagle (it was in Patagonia that Darwin thought of natural selection). It had serial killers and tortured anarchist martyrs. It had naval navigation equipment, and art displays. It had an entire wing of painted wooden penguins. It had a comedic exhibit on the psychotic mayhem caused by the beavers in Tierra del Fuego. The beavers brought from Canada became a nuisance, having dammed up the rivers, and in the exhibit they are portrayed as murderous villainous monsters who take over the world.

I met a girl, Mira, from the German border with France, who spoke Polish, and we started talking about how cool it would be to do a motorbike ride from Ushuaia up to Mexico. And then we said YEAH lets do it! But I had a A$200 bus ticket already, leaving at 5am, and I couldnt find any bikes for sale in the area, from the internet. Two of us with bags weighed about 200kg, and I think that's more than an inexpensive bike can carry for 12000 odd km. So I bid her farewell, with the plan that she would look for a bike in Buenos Aires. But I never wrote her back. Leaving Ushuaia was sort of the start of my real Patagonia adventure. CONTINUE --> PART 2

Cat and Heater		HMS Beagle
Obscure video art		an amusing frame from the video
The unfortunate end of my vacation.	Mirrors!	El pliegue del castor!	ancient fireman suit