Fri 21st Nov: San Martin De Los Andes

I decide to stay on in San Martin for a day. I haven´t done anything on the diary/blog in a week so I thought it would be a good place to catch up with that. Also, I head for El Calafate

tomorrow which is over 36hrs of travelling, nearly 3 days of buses so I want to be rested for that. Today is a lazy day so. I write a bit in the diary and then because of powercuts, spend an age lookinfg for an ATM that works. Back in the hostel during the afternoon I chat to an American lad who tried to climb Volcan Lanin but was forced to turn back due to high winds. Its a 2-day hike up that mountain with an overnight in a refugio. It cost him 300u.s. for a guide and equipment....Expensive!!

There´s a french lad in the dorm. He´s into fly fishing in a big way. He´s travelled the world after trout and he is in Argentina simply to fish for trout. He has represented France at world championships and been part of their team which has won 9 straight world titles. It was interesting talking to him. Different, certainly.

I don´t get as much done as I thought I would. In fact I don´t get to update the blog at all. The power came back on at 7pm but I ended up chatting to Tomas and some other Dutch. I´ll be glad to get out of San Martin. Its been an anticlimax after Pucon. I´m looking forward to the morning and the road to Calafate

Thurs 20th November: To San Martin

It was almost 4am when I got to bed. We had tried some of the local rum or.... Fionnuala had advised me to try some of the local rum!! I remember Fionnuala´s spanish becoming more and more fluent towards the end of the night. I wanted to get one more round but Fionnuala advised me.... in spanish, with a certain ´je ne sais quoi´in her expression that perhaps it wasn´t such a good idea. There was a look that said ´Fran, Remember that volcano you slid down the other day? Remember how fast you came down? Well, if you get another one of those rums then you´ll be coming down off that stool a hell of a lot quicker than you ever slid off that bloody volcano!!! I.... obeyed. Claro!!, Por Supeusto!! Entonces we went home.

This morning the wisdom of Fionnuala´s advice holds true. I´m tired but I don´t feel so bad. In the cold light of dawn, however I decide that, perhaps, I should head back into Argentina and then south for Patagonia.. Its been a great few days, even more so for having spent the time with Senorita Rosie Fi.

I caught the 10.30 bus to Sam Martin. The journey back into the highlands is beautiful. The mountain scenery with its vivd colours is hard to beat. Added to this are th volcanos which just draw your gaze once you spot them. The people in Chile are lovely. The drivers in Pucon are very polite, no road rage here. We stop in a town about an hour into the mountains. As the bus passes slowly down its main street many of the locals gaze at the bus. When they see you looking at them they smile and wave.

We climb high into the mountains towards the border along a narrow forested valley. The road is no longer paved but consists of gravel. Volcan Lanin comes into view. This is a high volcano at 3,700m and marks the border between Chile and Argentina. I had seen this volcao from the top of Villaricca. The two border posts sit beneath Lanin with majestic views of its slopes and snow capped cone. The boredom of the inevitable delays at the border control are lessened by the withering beauty of Lanin. The delays on the Argentinian side are particularly long today. At the counter two elderly gents with moustaches who look like they could be brothers, appear to be struggling to come to terms with the computer as they peer and frwon at the screen, pointing out something which puzzles them and tentatively punch the correct letter on the keypad.

Slowly, calmly, dilligently almost cheerily they process each person as everybody else twitches with impatience and frustration. There is no obvious reason for the delays other than the ´Marx Brothers´ technological shortcomings. All eyes fix on the boyos with increasing irritation. Eventually we get through and the bus trundles down into Argentina.

We soon join a tarmacced road and the bus cruises smoothly through beautiful broad upland valleys, markedly different from the other side of the mountains. We stop at Junin de Los Andes, a bland looking town that had the middle of nowhere feel to it´.´ It could have been any one of a number of small towns I´d encountered in the mid-west in the states. Less than an hour later we were in San Martin.

San Martin is a relatively small town situated on a pretty lake in a narrow valley dominated by tall, steep wooded hills on either side. It has a very clean, quiet feel to it. There´s a relatively busy main street which widens out into pleasant green plazas every few blocks. Its a resort town and has that touristy feel. Its quite like Pucon in some respects. But Pucon, now holds something special for me. San Martin doesn´t.

I find a hostel and on checking in I bump in to Tomas the dutch lad I´d met in Bariloche a week earlier. After catching on our adventures over the last few days I went for a lie down.. Later I got some dinner in a chea, no frills restaurant. The dreadlocked guy who runs the place studied English in Trinity back in the mid-80´s. His grandfather emigrated from Derry in the 1930´s/40´s and he got to visit relations who still lived in the district.. Aftedr beef stew and mash I had a quick wander round town and then went to bed, tired after the adventures in Pucon.

Wed 19th Nov: Hydrospeed

I had a great sleep until about 1am when the person in the room above me returned from a night out. The snores were so loud I couldn´t sleep eventhough we were in completely different rooms. I was about to start banging on the ceiling above me when thankfully the snoring stopped and I got back to sleep. I´ve signed up to do Hydrospeed today along with Fionnuala and a girl from her group. This didn´t start until 2pm so I had a lie in.

I got up, bought some pastries for breakfast in a bakery on my way over to the bus station to buy a ticket for San Martin, 5hrs the other side of the Andes in Argentina. Again, getting the bus ticket took longer than expected. It was noon by the time I was sorted so there wasn´t much time to do a whole lot before meeting up with Fionnuala at 2pm. I got lunch in the supermarket, brought it back to eat in my room and had a snooze.

I got to the Aquaventura centre a few minutes before Fionnuala and her friend, Bev, arrived. When the girls entered the centre Fionnuala came over towards me, indicating to Bev where I was. Instead of following Fionnuala, Bev veered off at ninety degrees and very politely introduced herself to a handsome latina saying how pleased she was to meet me. ´Jaysus, Bev, I´m flattered but I´m the skinny white guy over in the corner. Yep, thats me with with sunburned nose, and nope, I´m not the Bronzed Latino you thought I was!!¨ It was quite funny as Fionnuala had to backtrack and point out to Bev where the real Fran was sitting. Bev´s grovelling mistake at the misunderstanding was equally funny.

There were six in the Hydrospeed group altogether. We had one guide who would be in the water with us and two lads in kayaks who would act as safety. What is Hydrospeed? Well I didn´t know until Fionnuala pointed it out to me. You are basically body surfing through white water rapids in a wet suit, flippers and with an oversized float. The guide intructs you where to position yourself in the water and the best point to enter the rapids. The rest is an adrenalin rush through a churning river and stunning scenery.

I was concerned about getting cold in the water but as it turned nobody got cold. We started out in a calm pool on a bend and had a 400m approach to the first set of rapids. As the sounds of the rapids in creased I got a tingling sensation and as we drifted closer to the noise the sense of excitement rose. You could see the anticipation in everybody´s face. In an instant we went from fairly placid water into tumbling, rolling, turbulent whit water and were simply carried along by the rapids, heads bobbing up and down between waves. You hung onto the float as you crashed over the top of a wave and were then carried in to a dip. As the next wave rolled above you were thrown up into and then over it, and then down into the next cascade.

Very quickly we were thrown out into calm waters again and drifted calmly until the noise of the next set of rapids began to rise. We went through maybe 5 sets altogether with the guide shouting over the sounds of the river, instructing us as to the positions we should take on each approach. All too quickly it was over. The hour we were on the river felt like perhaps 25 mins. It was exhilirating and something I´d love to do again.

Afterwards I went with Fionnuala and Bev for something to eat on Pucon´s main street, Avenida O´Higgins. It was totally relaxed and carefree. These last few days in Pucon have been a real highlight. Meeting up with Fionnuala, climbing the volcano and now the hydrospeed have been pure enjoyment the whole way.

While Sipping on some beers John and Jim, the Americans, came strollinbg down the street and asked how we´d got on on the river. Our reactions sold it to the lads who promptly signed on for tomorrow. It was John´s 40th birthday so we arranged to meet up later, after the lads had dinner.

After a quick shower back at the hostel I got the bags ready for leaving in the morning and went back out to meet Fionnuala at ´Mamas and Tapas´where we´d agreed to meet the lads. The rest of the night was a good laugh with Fionnuala and then the lads who sauntered along later. The two J´s were sound. I got on with them from when we´d met at the start of the hike. It was really entertaining listening to Fionnuala´s tales of her adventures in Central and south America. I thought I´d been adventurous cycling acroos America but listening to Fionnuala she really did have some adventures which contrasted so much to my solo little trek.

I was very tempted to stay on in Pucon and was beginning to regret having bought the ticket to San Martin. However doing the activities was a drain on the pocket and I had to be budget conscious. Having Fionnuala there was so good. It had been great looking forward to seeing her and having a laugh with her. By the end ogf the night I was confused in my own mind.... should I stay or should I go?

Tues 18th Nov: Volcan Villarrica

Up just after 6am. Our group met at 7am. There were about 12 of us in the party, one of many to do the hike today. Soon we all piled in to a minibus and, after a quick tour around town to pick up some of the guides who had slept in, we hit the road for the mountain.

By 8.30 we were on the slopes and very quickly hit the snow fields which we would follow to the summit. There were three guided in the group. Already there were groups high up on the slopes above us. They looked small and distant against the vast white flanks of the volcano. The hike itself was a slow 5hr climb to the summit. But it wasn´t difficult. You simply had to concentrate on where you put your foot. It was simply a case of following the footsteps of the person in front of you. I found the slow rhythm of the climb became quite hypnotic and drifted off into daydreams every so often. Whnever this happened I was brought back to reality very quickly as I would miss a secure foothold and slip. I didn´t daydream very much!! It was important to stay alert as everybody at some point slipped in the soft snow.

The vuews were fantastic and kept improving the higher we went. Through certain phases of the climb the slope became very steep but we had been given ice picks to support ourselves and they were very useful when the footholds in the snow did give way. It was tiring but but when you paused to take in the views it was exhilirating. Mountains stretched away for mile after mile. Scattered among them were the higher peaks of major volcanoes.

Our group began to dwindle as the slower ones fell back and by the time we reached the summit one guide remained with 6 of us. I was with 2 American lads I´d been chatting to on the way up. The other guides were lower down, shepherding the stragglers to the top. Teaching the top was great. The crater was billowing out thick sulphurous clouds of vapour that stank of rotten eggs. The wind up her was strong with a cold bite. Very quickly we put on the waterproof suits we´d been given at the centre. Everybody suited up in preparation for the long slide back down the flank of the mountain. We wouldn´t climb back down. we would slide. It was going to be great!! After 20 mins of taking in the views we began the descent.

It was great sliding down. At times zipping through the snow. My suit leaked however so by the time we got down I was soaked. I wasn´t the only one though. 40 mins later we reached the bottom of the snow line. 20 mins later we were back at the jump off point. Everyone was buzzing after the adventure. Back in town we had a couple of beers with the guides. The two American lads, John and Jim were staying at the same hostel as myself. I had to go back and sort out a bed for myself and then I snoozed from which I found it very difficult to rise from.

After struggling back up I checked my email to find Fionnuala couldn´t meet up this evening as her group had made arrangements so I got a bite to eat. Wandering around town I had a quick chat with the American lads but feeling the effects of the day I called in early tonight as did the lads. It didn´t take long to get to sleep

Monday 17th Nov: To Pucon

I caught the 9am bus for Pucon. Its a six hr journey from Puerto Montt so I settled down to watching the countryside go by. Fionnuala Farrell is in Pucon at the moment, or she should e according to her email. She arrived yesterday for a week. I was going to send her an email from Puerto Montt but decided to hold off until I arrived in Pucon. I´m looking forward to meeting her as it had appeared as though we wouldn´t meet up.

The landscape through this part of Chile is again very pretty, lush green fields, snowcapped mountains with, every sooften the cone of a volcano emerging in the distance. We stopped, briefly, in Osorno and then in Valdivia. It had been overcast this morning in Puerto Montt. Indeed it had rained throughout the night. But as the day progressed the weather cleared and by the time we arrived in Pucon it was a beautiful warm day.

Pucon is a small town, easy to get around. Its a resort town, pretty and wealthy. Its very European looking and quite touristy. But it has a very relaxed atmosphere and its setting is beautiful with the cone of Volcan Villlarica dominating the landscape. The fact that the town lise by a lake is almost forgotten by the almost hypnotic affect of Villarica. Your eyes are constantly drawn to the sight of the towering 3,000mvolcanoe, its upper slopes covered by pristine snow. Most people come here to climb the volcano. THere are many other activivties to do here, there are many adventure related busineses here. But the volcanoe is the big one.

I checked into my hostal and got a bed in a 3-bed dorm but was told I´d have to move tomorrow as the room is booked. I was hungry. So before emailing Fionnuala I went to the supermarket to get some food. Wandering around the aisles looking for the bits and bobs for lunch who did I see only the bold Fionnuala. I went over and said hello. The look on her face was priceless. To say she was surprised was an understatement. We went across the street to a cafe to have a chat and a laugh at meeting up in South America. I hadn´t expected to bump into her so easily, thinking she would be doing onbe of the activities ot at the language school her group is attending for the week.

After catching up for a while we went over to one of the adventure companies and I signed up climb the volcanoe in the morning and I showed Fionnuala the hostel where I was staying. The restaurant had a decent restaurant so we ate there and over a few drinks we caught up on Fionnualas adventures over the last few months which really sounded quite something. By 11.30 Fionnuala went back to her house her group had rented for the week and left me to get ready for an early morning hike up Volcan Villarica.

Sun 16th Nov: Puerto Montt

I´ve decided to stay on here for the day. After breakfast I paid up for a second nitght, and then promptly went back to bed!! I lazed for most of the day reading, snoozing and watching TV. (I don´t have the energy I used ta!!) I watched most of Hull v Man City.

I got up and out around 5.30pm and went out to get something to eat. It was a bit cooler today, overcast for much of it but has cleared up this evening as I make my way downtown towards the bus terminal. I get my ticket to Pucon for tomorrow morning. It wasn´t as busy as yesterday but still there was a sizeable crowd milling about. All the winos were back, this area obviously being there main haunt. There were vendors selling sticks of grilled meat. Their grills sizzling, sending out plumes and aromas of cooking meat. Couples and families, many dressed up were out for their evening stroll. There are lots of dogs in Puerto Montt. Some look a bit mangy and underfed but for the most part they appear to be the happiest, jolliest and laziest dogs I´ve seen. They seem to have the run of the town, not in an agressive way but as if the whole town were their playground. They frolic around leisurely, weaving around the strolling humans. Then, spotting a convenient patch on the pavement, they stretch out for a delicous little snooze. Even the odd dog that decides to make the effort to bark follows this with a long yawn, its tongue dripping with contentment. It doesn´t so much lie down after this as slowly keels over, with a look of heavenly bliss as it settles itself. Another quick yawn and the dog is asleep, serene as a couple of toddlers run around it.

I get a meal in a family run restaurant - Dona Mila´s. This was a simple basic eaterie fronting the main thoroughfare down near the ferry terminal. It was quiet this evening. Two other tables were occupied with some people sipping beer and wine as they chatted. Three generations of the family were out the back in the kitchen area and by the sounds of it had their living quarters upstairs. Two of Dona´s little grandkids came out to play in the main restaurant floor. They came over to stand and stare beside the white gringo. They got all excited as I responded to their approach, saying "Hola" and asking their names. They didn´t respond but ran away shrieking with excitement before sidling up beside me again, all smiles now. Very quikly Nana Dona put an end to their adventure, hauling them back into the kitchen, their shreiks of laughter turning to howls of protest as their fun was abruptly cut short.

I had salmon steak with chips and a bottle of water. For some reason she wouldn´t serve me any cerveza. As I left Don Mila´s some fairly serious incident seemed to have occured as a crowd of onlookers had gathered to watch as police vans and motorcycles sped past, their sirens blaring, into an adjacent residencial area. I left the crowd of onlookers and strolled into the town centre. After a quick look around darkness began to fall and I decided to head back to my room. I´m looking forward to Pucon and enjoy another night of sleep in my single room...... with tv!!

Sat 15th Nov: Into Chile

After mulling over what to do during the night I decide to head for Puerto Montt and catch the 9am bus. As we pull away from Bariloche an English guy comes over and sits beside me. He tells me I can´t bring bread, fruit, meats etc into Chile. I wasn´t aware of this and brought a bundle of food with me for the journey. I have quite a large breakfast so and will have to dump anything I don´t eat at the border. We´re also given a small breakfast on board so I´m stuffed as we head for the mountains. As we head northwest for the mountain pass which will take us into Chile we travel through high valleys covered by woodland which extend all the way down to the shorelines of sparkling blue lakes. As we head deeper into the Andes we leave the lakes behind and the snow speckled mountains begin to rear up all around.

We stop in a pretty touristy town and I get pangs of guilt as I see a group of cyclists with their panniers and gear all loaded up rolling out of town. We leave the town behind and the road winds higher into the mountains. Trees begin to thin out leaving patches of bare rock and snow scattering across the view. Soon we are at the Argentine border post. We all troop off the bus and present our passports while border officials sign the paperwork, enter our data into computers and, finally stamp the passport. This border post was located in a very pretty dip in the mountains and it was no great chore to sit in the sun and look at the views until we were given the all-clear to progress towards the Chilean border.

A few miles later over the tops of the mountains we repeated the procedure only this time everything took longer. All the luggage was unloaded and passed through an airport style monitor. Our hand luggage was inspected for suspect foodstuffs and meats of mass destruction. Thankfully I had been tipped off earlier and dumped my offending lunch as I ticked off all the boxes of illicit foodstuffs........ contraband salami and, God forbid....... bananas!!!!

The Chilean customs officers were jovial, plump and well-fed looking characters. One guy appeared to be salivating at the thought of all the cheese and hams he was going to confiscate from us gringos but sadly he would be disappointed. I looked so downcast as he failed to locate anything to confiscate for his lunch that I considered offering him a sympathetic square of my chocolate. Then I thought I´d better not in case he decided to take it and my biscuits as well!

Into Chile, we trundled through the mountains for some more miles before beginning our descent to the plains below. We emerged from the mountains into a region of lush green pastures. The colours on this side of the Andes were much more vivid than in Argentina. The fields with cattle grazing, lined with trees. The grass an emerald green resembled the good quality land in the east of Ireland. At times you felt you could be at home on a bright summers day until you looked to the horizon and saw the snowcapped mountains.

A brilliantly white volcano suddenly appeared miles away on the left of the bus. Its cone shape was captivating. My first volcano. Soon a second volcano appeared, then a third neither as tall or as striking as the first, Volcan Osorno. We stopped at the town of Osorno briefly and most of the backpackers on board got off to change buses for Pucon 5hrs north of here. Weaving slowly through a saturday street market the bus left Osorno for the 100km stretch south to Puerto Montt. All the while we had the sight of Volcan Osorno filling the view on one side of the bus. Your eyes were just drawn to it. We stopped briefly in Puerto Varras a small town on a lake which has spectacular views of the volcano towering over the far shore.

20 mins later we were in Puerto Montt. This is a bustling port town sitting on the northern end of the Chilean fjords which extend all the way down to Punta Arenas in southern Patagonia. Most come here to take a three day ferry to Puerto Natales, the gateway to the famous Torres del Paine national park. A short walk up a steep hill took me to Hostal Vista Hermosa where I got a single room. I was looking forward to this after a week in dorms. Hopeful there would be no mosquitoes this time. I lay down for a while and then got up to get some money, food and have a look around town.

First impressions of Puerto Montt weren´t great. It looked pretty rough. There was a lot of hustle and bustle. People looked poorer here. I felt as though finally I had really arrived in South America. I think the anxiety I felt was more to do with a little bit of culture shock than any real danger in the town. There were a good deal of winos in this part of town, close to the bus station. But people just seemed to be hanging around and I didn´t see much of this in Argentina. People looked a lot different on this side of the Andes, with darker skin and a more South American look to them. I had to find an ATM and get some money and I´m never fully relaxed when I have to get csh. I always feel slightly vulnerable at ATM´s so this probably helped me feel on edge.

There were a lot of street vendors among the streets of the business district which led away from the bus terminal. It felt very different to Argentina. Once I got my cash the anxiety I felt began to fade away and I started to enjoy the place. There were a lot of Cafes and fast food joints along one street. A football match was being shown on tv and each place had a posse of people filling up the place to watch the game. Where the TV sat just inside the entrance the doorway filled with onlookers craning their necks to get a glimpse of the action.

Ten to twelve blocks down the street the general shopping area became a bit more upmarket. This must have been the high street of Puerto Montt and led to an open plaza which itself opened onto the seafront running prrallel to the shopping area. I got a bite to eat in a local eaterie which left me feeling unsure if my stomach was going to react (thankfully it didn´t). It was getting dark so I went back to the hostel for the night.

Fri 14 Nov: Bariloche

I spend much of the morning sorting out a bus ticket for tomorrow morning. My intention is to go to Calafate in southern Patagonia and I¨ve been under the impression I can go direct. I go to a ticket office in town to find out I cant get a ticket from him and have to go out to the bus station to get one. I go to the bus station and find out this particular bus only goes once a week on a Sunday night at 21.00. What hasnt been explained to me is that for the regular journey I have to make three connections en route. Things get lost in translation I suppose. However I now begin to consider other possibilities. I decide to get a ticket to Puerto Montt in Chile and then take a bus down through the Chilean fjiords to Puerto Natales from where I can then get back across the border to Calafate. It sounds like a great idea so I get my ticket to Puerto Montt.

Its lunchtime before I m sorted. By now I m hungry si I get some food in a nearby supermarket and bring it back to the hostel to eat. In the dining room I get talking to a Belgian couple, Michel and Eve who have just arrived from Ushuaia in the extreme south of Patagonia and a particularly long 3 bus 50hr journey. We end up chatting for the rest of the afternoon. They are sailing around the world together and have been travelling for the past 15 months. Their boat is moored up in Venezuela while they tour around South America. I find it fascinating listening to their sailing adventures. They re a lovely couple and by far and away the most interesting people I ve met so far. I have dinner with them in the evening and we join a table with a Dutch lad, an Aussie couple and a hilariously camp English "gent" in his forties. A lot of stories get trotted out through the evening about each others travels and, we find a lot of similar experiences with muggings and attempted robberies in Buenos Aires. It seems my episode was far from unusual there. The Aussie couple have come from Chile and tell tales of climbing Volcanoes and sliding back down its slopes in a town called Pucon. It sounds fantastic and Im intrigued.

As the conversations progress I get asked about where Içm going to next and I tell of my fresh plans for Puerto Montt and the great bus journey down through the fjords. People frown and are surprised I can do this and begin to cast doubts as to whether there is a bus link from Puerto Montt to Puerto Natales. I double check with the guide and indeed There is no bus conection. Now Içm not sure what to do. Should I bother going to Puerto Montt at all? As I go to bed I decide to sleep on it over night and see what I think in th morning

Thurs 13th Nov: Cerro Otto (Cerro Bambino!!!)

I sleep in Today. Up at 9.30. There is a turnover of personnell in the dorm today. All the lads are leaving. Denni for Puerto Madryn to go whale watching on the Atlantic coast. The English lad to Puerto Montt in Chile and Kevin heads south to El Bolson. I´ll miss talking to Kevin. Some people might have got a bit freaked by all his talk of conspiracy theories but behind it all he´s very laid back with a very wry sense of humour. It was easy to have a laugh with him.

Hostels can bring together an odd mix of characters. It can be a very hit or miss experience in these dorms. You can be thrown in with any kind of character from the sound to the mildly eccentric to individuals you just stay away from. So far in this dorm its been grand but I´m glad I´m not sharing a room with some of the characters in the hostel. There´s an aussie and a couple of Kiwi girls whom you might describe as being up their own @#*e!!.

In the afternoon I head out of town to a smaller mountain, Cerro Otto, some 5km away. A local bus drops you off at a cable car station which goes up to a refugio at the summit. I hike up a rough dirt path which follows the line of ascending pylons. This hill is a lot lower than cerro Catedral but much steeper. Its difficult underfoot as the loose dirt and gravel prevents you getting a good grip. The path doesn´t zig zag up the slope it simply runs straight up. I have to stop regularly for a breather. Under a strong sun I begin to sweat heavily making me wish I was in a pair of shorts and not my trousers which begin to stick to me. After a long 90mins I reach the top. The refugio here has a restaurant with panoramic views. There is also a phone kiosk so I decide to call home, not having managed to get through to home so far. It turns out to be an expensive call but a memorable one. Talking to Marie I hear that she has terrible cravings for chocolate. I then get the news that we have another wee baby on the way. Marie ther´s plenty of chocolate in Bariloche for those kind of cravings. Two girls in the dorm made themselves sick gorging on chocolate today!!. Its exciting news and in years to come I´ll be able to tell exactly where I was the day I heard the news. With all the excitement I felt too tired to hike back down the mountain and instead took a cable car. After a day where Içd spent very little I blew three quarters of the daily budget in a matter of moments. But it was worth it. Today will live long in the memory, not so much for what I did but for the news I recieved. Its not often you here you are going to be an uncle but to hear it on the top of a mountain in Argentina certainly adds to the experience.

Wed 12th Nov: Cerro Catedral

I wake up and its 8.30 on my clock but I´ve forgotten to change the time since I arrived from Buenos Aires. Bariloche is 1hr behind B.A. I get up to have breakfast and as I sit munching into a bowl of cereal I glance at a clock on the wall and see that its 7.40..... earlier than I´d hoped but no matter I´m out of bed now.

I intend to climb Cerro Catedral today. A mountain that about 2,000m high and host to the largest ski resort in the southern hemisphere. I take a bus which drops us off at the ski resort. To get to the top of the mountain you can either hike or take a cable car. I´m hiking to the top and looking forward to the climb. Its a tough enough hike to the top, steep in places. I zig zag up the first section, following dirt tracks which provide access for maintenance crews to the cable pylons. Soon I pass the snowline. There follows a good deal of hiking through shallow, compacted snow. The views are fantastic over the large expanse of Lago nahuel Huapi and the long line of mountain peaks which stretch away on the horizon. I hit a steep section and followed a line of footprints that had been made yesterday, perhaps. This line of steps took me to a long, sloping ridge free of snow. A couple of hundred feet above was a refugio.

Three quarters of the way to the top is Refugio Antonio Lynch. The refugio marks the end of the line for those taking the cable car. An overpriced restaurant draws the more wealthy inside. I get a small bottle of water which costs 8 pesos (2 euro), normally a 1.5 litre is 2 pesos. There´s a lot of people milling about outside. Some school groups running around screeching and throwing snowballs at each other. Other smaller groups take photos of the scenery and one another by an Argentinian flag. Its warm up here. Every now and then the wind gusts up chilling you slightly, putting you in two minds whether or not to put a jacket on.

I head on up for the top which takes another 30 mins. By now I´m wearing my jacket on my head as I´ve forgotten to bring a hat and the top of my head was beginning to feel hot. Not a good sign. Two other lads followed me to the top along snow paths which sat on top of a shoulder of snow which ran along the crest of the ridge all the way up. The top was marked by a disused ski station. I linger briefly at the top to take in the views and then retrace my way back down the slope. The sun is strong. The jacket will have to stay on my head. It was cool this morning but not now at 2pm. Even up here at over 2,000m its warm.

I get down from the top around 4pm. I didn´t put cream on my neck or arms and I´m regretting that now. By 5pm I´m back in the hostel. In the dorm I chat with Kevin the American guy who´s a bit of a character. He´s an american army vet who, in a nutshell, is into conspiracy theories. He says he´s on the run from the American government. He hasn´t been home in 12yrs and now spends his time travelling around trying to expose secretive controversial Government projects to a wider public. After dinner a wave of tiredness hits me. I got a lot of sun on the mountain. I go to bed around 10.30.

Tues 11th Nov: Bariloche

I slept very little through the night. It wasn´t that the bus was noisy or uncomfortable, not at all. I just didn´t settle down whilr we travelled. In fact the bus was very good. The roads were smooth and, like the mid-west in the states, went straight for 60-70 miles without turning. It was ideal for long haul transport.

We were served dinner at 11pm, accompamied by the latest dvd in the screen. I drifted off to sleep but woke up at 1am and spent a while watching thunderstorms flash far off in the distance. I must have drifted off for a while but when a awoke and peered out into the darkness the landscape had changed abruptly to scrubland. The bus made a couple of stops through the night. When I went down to the toilet some time before dawn a lot of thr passengers had left. There was only a few of us left, all on the upper deck. By now the sight of a building was an isolated event. Through the whole of the journey lasting 20hrs we passed through only 4 towns. Suddenly the actual size of Argentina was becoming apparent.

As dawn broke we entered the edge of the lake district. We passed throught swift moving rever valleys, over rocky barren hills, and along the shores of lakes. Soon snowcapped mountains of the Andes began to began to emerge in fleeting glimpses then staying in view as we neared Bariloche. By 9am we were skirting the edge of Lake Nahuel Huapi. Bariloche sat on the far shore of this lake set against a stunning backdrop of snowcapped mountains.

30 mins later we were at the bus station. I collected my rucksack and a porter rook me by surprise demanding a tip. Unsure what to do I feigned ignorance. I had wanted to tip the waiter who had served us through the journey. I had thought he´d done a great job. With a passing resemblance to Carlos Tevez he was courtoeus and polite to all as he dispensed trays of drinks and packs of meals. When we got to Bariloch I didn´t see him. It would have brrn nice to thank him. As for the other little toe rag.......

I walked from the bus station to the hostel. Bariloche, however is bigger than I expected it to be. It must have been a 35-40 min walk when a bus would have taken 10 mins. Anyway it was a nice walk along the lake shore. I got to the hostel which is located on the top floor (10th) of a tall apartment complex in the centre of town. On entering the main reception/ lounge area the first thing that strikes you is the view of the surrounding landscape which is stunning. A panorama of town, lake and mountains fill all of one side of the room. Outside is a balcony where you can soak in sun and views. Its a very unique siting for a hostel.

My room wasn´t ready and I had to wait an hour before getting to have a shower. I was wrecked after the journey and lay down for a couple of hours sleep. I left today free to find out what to do in the area and have a look around town. Its a nice pleasant town, you could be in Switzerland as easily as Argentina. Its quite touristy but very geared towards outdoor activities with the biggest ski resort in the southern hemisphere just up the road.

I´m on a top bunk in a 6-bed dorm which looks down over the town. In the bunk beneath is an American guy in his 50´s. There´s an English guy the same age as me and a German lad, Denni, just out of college. THere are two other girls in the room but I don´t meet them

Monday 10th Nov: South to Bariloche

I got a fairly decent sleep once the itching of the mosquito bites stopped. I was the only lad in the room last night which was great. No snoring!! It was so quiet once the girls went to sleep. Some of the other nights when there could be three lads snoring at once it was like being at a bloody Grand Prix!!! Top decibel levels so far go to that French gobshite in the dorm in Colonia del Sacramento. He really took the biscuit..... oeuf, bagette ´n all. The big hazard in north America was dogs running after me. This seems to have been replaced in South America by backpackers snoring.... not to mention the mosquitoes biting me on the occasions when I avoid the snoring. The worst thing about the mosquito bites, though, though is that I have two tubes of strong mosquito repelant in my rucksack...... and never used them. Nope, I went for the ....... stay awake all night with a rolled up newspaper while being eaten alive option. The joys of froeign travel!!

Today I´m heading for Bariloche in the Argentinian lake district. The trip, I think, really starts to take off from today. Its a long bus ride down to Bariloche. 20hrs. The bus leaves Retiro, Buenos Aires cavernous bus terminal at 14.30 and will arrive at Bariloche tomorrow morning. Its an overnighter so its going to be interesting.

I stay around the hostel for most of the morning and get a bus to Retiro around 1pm. The bus leaves Retiro bang on 14.30. Its a double decker and I´m up top so I have great views. The seats are comfortable and fold out in to beds for the night. Also there´s a waiter on board who is serving meals, all part of the fare. This is an unexpected bonus as I brought along a small bag of food for the journey.

As soon as the bus pulls out of the station it passes through an extremely rough looking neighbourhood. It makes La Boca look like a pleasant stroll.. The bus climbs up onto the autopista which crosses over San Telmo (The district I´ve stayed in) and cuts across to the western outskirts of Buenos Aires. The city is vast. High up on this motorway is the first time I´ve could appreciate just how big the city is. A brown haze of smog hangs over the city like a mist, obscuring some of the distant tower blocks. The bus zips along the motorway towards the outskirts of the city. Its good to be getting away the big cities for a while. I´m looking forward to seeing the Andes tomorrow.

Soon enough we´re on the edge of B.A. and leaving the suburbs behind we see more and more greenery as the landscape opens up into a vast pastureland. The landscape is flat, very flat. Reminiscent of of the American mid-west. The grasslands which stretch away to the horizon are interspersed with isolated groves of trees which stand in silhoutte on the horizon. The sky is overcast but no hint of rain.

Here and there pretty tree-lined avenues lead to fine looking villas or small por-lookimg farmsteads. Herds of cattle and sheep graze in the vast fields. For hours we pass through a landscape that doesn´t change. No hill rises to break the horizon, only pasture and trees. Sometimes large fields of cereals break the pattern.

On board there are tv screens showing dvd´s of hollywood films but I end up looking out the window more than watching the films. By 9pm the sun goes down on a landscape that hasn´t changed since we left Buenos Aires.

Sun 9th Nov: Montevideo to Buenos Aires

Another night of broken sleep and clashes with little critters. Tired and sticky (no air conditioning here) I got up and showered. I´m heading back to Buenos Aires today. I was just getting ready to go down for breakfast when a knock came on the door. I replied "Si". The person on the other side of the door said something about Desayuno (Breakfast). I thought he meant that breakfast would be ending soon and that I should go dwn now if I wanted some. I put on my runners and was tying the laces when a second, shaper, knock rattled on the door. I opened it and the hotel porter handed me my breakfast on a tray. A mug of coffee and some pastries. I was surprised. Obviously it was a little gesture from the old couple who owned the place. I had built up a little rapport with them over the few days. We always said hello in passing. I paid the lady each morning and each time she chatted away as I smiled and nodded gingerly. I complimented how nice Montevideo was. It was she who gave me directions to the launderette and later that day after I collected the clothes tut-tutted that I should have said where I was staying and they´d have delivered the parcel to the hotel. We both had a great laugh at that!!!! Still, sending the breakfast up to my room this morning was a small but touching gesture.

When I haded in my key on leaving the old guy wished me safe travels (I think..... I hope) and waved goodbye. I caught a city bus out to Tres Cruces, the bus terminal and got a combined bus and ferry ticket back to B.A.

I had a little time to spare so I took a walk over to Estadio Centenario, the national stadium and home to Penarol, Uruguay´s leading club. I had hoped to catch a game here but Penaról don´t play until this evening and another mosquito ridden night doesn´t appeal. The stadium hosted the first world cup final which was won by Uruguay.

The ferry bus was a quality one and eased its way to the outskirts of Montevideo. Out on the edge of town we passed by a series of shanties. Simple shacks cobbled together with odd pieces of rusty corrugated iron. Beside them were more permanent looking structures but buildings you´d hardly call housing. It was poor, squalid. The first real evidence of poverty on the trip.

Soon I drifted off to sleep waking minutes before the bus arrived at the ferry terminal. The ferry crossing passed by and we arrived in back in Buenos Aires by 7pm. I took a bus which dropped me off near to the hostel. I checked in and was put back into the same room I´d stayed in last week. I got the last available bed aswell. There was a german girl in the room. She´s living and working in the Falklands as a fisheries officer. The whole experience sounds bleak. They can only get basic goods on the islands. Everything else has to be ordered in and shipped over. She´s in Argentina on a 4-week break.

Around 9pm I went to eat in a small cafe on La Defensa, Pork chops in a garlic sauce and a half litre of Quilmes. Afterwards I took a look into Plaza Dorrega to see if the Tango session was on this week. The plaza was busy tonight and the tango session was jammed. There must have been up to 100 people dancig and more watching from the sides. It was interesting to see so many people dance the tango in their own way. Some moved very formally, others jauntily and others.... very sensually. It was like being at a latin american Ceili. But with the emphasis very much on the.... latin American. There was a very cool vibe to the music that sat so comfortably with the people here on a warm humid night.

By 12 o´clock I was getting tired and the crowds were beginning to disperse so I returned to the Hostel to sleep. It took me a while before I drifted off though. The room was very warm and it seemed as if every single mosquito bite of the last few days suddenly woke up to annoy me. The itch was terrible and everytime I moved to try to get comfortable it seemed I provoked a different bite into an angry state. Eventually though the itch subsided and I slept.

Fri & Sat 7/8th Nov: Mosquitoes in Montevideo

I didn´t do a whole lot for the next 2 days. I made the most of having the single room and hoped to shake off the flu by taking it easy. I had a great sleep on thursday night. In the morning after breakfast I got directions to a Launderette. By now my clothes needed a wash after all the heat and humidity of the last week. Down in one of the Plazas in the old town I came aross a military band and a detachment of soldiers in ceremonial uniforms performing for the crowd. Shortly the band struck up a tune and they all marched off round the corner up towards the main square Plaza Independencia and naturally, those of us who were tourists and curious marched off with them. They paraded up to the large ornamental tomb of an old Uruguyan hero Artigas in Independencia. A full military ceremony took place which was all very picturesque indeed. Sure it past the time anyway.

The rest of the time I spent catching up on the diary and wathing Hollywood films in Spanish. I got very little sleep the next two nights. Mosquitoes seem to have infested the room (No wonder I got it so bloody cheap) and they´re damn hard to kill if you don´t get them first time. They´re like wee sharks hovering around waiting to strike when you fall asleep. Every so often a high pitched whine would sound in my ear and I would jump up flailing all round me in a desperate attempt to get the little fecker. I killed most but always one would get away. My face alone has 6-7 welts on it from the little monsters not to mention my arms and stomach. I´ve just got over the sunburn and swollen nose. Now I have a face that makes me look like I´ve got the measles.

Thurs 6th Nov: Colonia to Montevideo

Caught the 8.30 bus to Montevideo. They still have conductors on the buses here. After we left the bus station there were a couple of stops to pick up passengers on the outskirts of town and then the bus swung into the countryside and onto the main road for Montevideo.

The consuctor seems to have a cushy job here. Once the few fairs had been taken and tickets checked he settled down to preparing mugs of mate for himself and the driver. They sipped their drinks and chatted away for most of the rest of the journey as there was only one more pick up. Outside I was getting my first real glimpse of South American countryside. We passed through mostly open pasture land with a few cows grazing and the odd short stretch of crops growing.

Across the fields I noticed what I thought at first were wisps of smoke drifting across the tops of trees. They were long vertical cone-like clouds hovering always where there were stands of trees. As we passed closed by one of these clouds it became obvious they were either swarms of bees or flies.

By 11am we were at the bus station in Montevideo. The terminal appeared to be outside the city cemtre by some distance so I left my rucksack at a luggage drop in the station and went on foot in to the city. At first I walked around iun circles going in the wrong direction each time. I couldn´t locate where the station was on the map. Eventually I was put right. It turned out the station was on the very edge of the cemtre. A 35 min walk would take me to where I wanted to go. I got onto Avenida 18 Julio. This street runs straight down into the heart of Montevideo all the way to Plaza Independiencia at its heart. I had picke out a cheap hotel not too far from the Plaza.

Montevideo was warm and busy. It was quite different to Buenos Aires, not as wealthy, a bit rundown looking but humming with activity. There were a lot of street vendors along Avenida 18 Julio. You wouldn´t see this in B.A. The streets were thronged with shoppers. I kept to the shady side of the street otherwise I´d have been soaked in sweat. Ome of the landmark buildings along the Avenida id the Palacio Municipal, the City Hall, an enormous brick building. One of those you crane your neck to look up at in the comparatively narrow avenue. The avenida was lined with tall building complexes but the Palacio dwarfed them all. 3 mins from here I arrived at the door of the hotel Montevideo.

This hotel was run by an elderly couple. I asked for a single room and the old lady showed me a room for 400 pesos. When she opened the door a wave of warm sticky air rushed out. Inside was a tiny stuffy room which i didn´t fancy. She showed me other double rooms which were more expensive and which I didn´t want precisely because of this. I was tired and didn´t fancy looking at more rooms so I decided to take the one for 400 pesos. I said this to her. The old lady took this up as me haggling to get one of the better rooms at a cheap rate. So she gave me one of the doubles for a single rate. Happy Days!!

I didn´t do much for the rest of the day. Happy not to be in a dorm. In the afternoon I collected my rucksack from the bus station and later on, in the evening, went to a chiviteria (a burger bar) for some food. The lady who served seemed to be quite taken by the fact that I was from Ireland. The food wasn´t bad either. Afterwards I strolled down to Plaza Independencia, Montevideo´s large central square. It wasnt the most attractive of Plazas. There was one fine building, the Palacio Salvo which at one time was South America´s tallest building. I strolled down to the waterfront and out onto a pier where groups of lads were fishing. Occasionally waves splashed up over the pier wall, drenching you if you happened to be standing in the wrong spot. An enormous container ship pulled out of the port and glided past the pier out into choppy waters of the open sea. Everything else was dwarfed by its massive size. I went back to the hotel and was asleep by 11.

Wed 5th Nov: Colonia Del Sacramento

I slept very little last night. I was either sweating under the sheets or shivering when I went to the toilet. A french couple came into the room about 4-5am and between them making noise and then snoring I couldn´t sleep. Bloody French. They always find a way to annoy you. I was really annoyed getting up.

I made a good deal of noise as I got up. Just to say Bon Jour. I went out in to the town and bought some breakfast and ate it on a bech in a plaza in the centre of town. It was a lovely morning. A lot of the locals come here to watch the world go by as I did for a while that morning.

One of the curious traits here in Uruguay as in B.A. is the custom of drinking Mate, a herbal tea. I saw some people with it in B.A. but it is much more noticeable her in Colonia. The Mate drinker has a cup with no handle. The herbal mixture is then placed in the cup, almost filling it. It is then topped with hot water and the tea is sipped through a metal stem. A flask is used to refill the cup with hot water. The first tims I saw somebody sipping mate I thought the person was smoking an elaborate pipe. People drink Mate everywhere. In the plazas, strolling along the street with the flask, like a newspaper tucked under arm, and driving buses.

In the afternoon I went to a local beach which involved a short walk along a narrow trail through some woodland. While I was lying on the beach an insect bit my right foot. The bite gave me a jolt and when I looked at my foot I could see it was still there. I reacted immediately before it tried to bite me again. I pulled up my right foot so I could hit the insect away with my left hand but instead of swiping the insect away I managed to punch myself in the nose. I hit myself so hard I broke the skin and blood began to seep out. It was a right cracking shot because I dazed myself. The insect was shooed away at the secon attempt. I´m gald nobody saw me because they´d have had a right laugh at the skinny white gringo punching himself in the face!! My battered nose did however draw some looks as the day progressed.

In the evening, after watching some of the Celtic V Man U Champions league match and hearing that Barack Obama had won the Presidential election I went back down to the seafront to see if the sunset could match last nights display. Tonight it was even better! There was more cloud in the sky which obscured the sun as it slipped down. Then just as it sat on the horizon, just before it dropped into a brilliant red haze the tallest tower blocks of B.A. appeared in Silhouette. When the sun disappeared below the horizon the clouds became a blaze of colour, oranges and deep, deep reds. Spectacular.

Afterwards I strolled over to a Parillada to eat. This was a local corner bar that serve grilled meats. It was very simple, very plain. A formica bar counter, pealing slightly at the edges, propped up 5 or 6 locals all of whom sipped whiskey. Two were eating. Behind the bar, the owner a portly, balding man in his 60,s entertained chatting away with the clientele. Along the length of the front wall, set under the open windows were 5/6 small tables large enough for 2 people to eat at. Between the tables and the bar there was enough room for one person to walk past.

Behind the bar rows of spirits and dusty wine bottles were stacked in tiers. To one side was a fridge in which the barman kept fresh meat. Over in the corner was an open flame grill onto which the owner/barman slapped steaks, sausages and black puddings as he chatted amiably. This was no tourist haunt and I wondered if I,d get a look of "Oh no, another bloody gringo" as I entered but no the lads didn{t pass any heed of me and the owner was polite and friendly as I ordered some food and a 3/4 litre of Pilsen, a local Uruguayan brew.

Behind the bar were various posters . One was of the Uruguayan national team at the 1990 world cup. Others showed footballers of the 50,s and 60,s. There were a few photos of the owner over the years with various people. Flies buzzed around the two roof lights that lit room.

By the time my food arrived 2-3 more locals had entered and ordered food. The owner who was being kept busy now shuffled around the bar rather than walked. Perspiration trickled down his forehead as he delivered my food, steak and home cut chips. I got stuck in. On one of his shuffles around the bar the owner enquired if the meal was ok by raising his eyebrows, smiling and saying "Ehh Amigo?" I nodded and smiled back saying "Bueno, muy bueno".

The TV was turned on and all heads turned to the small black and white screen, mounted high on the end wall, to watch the lotto draw. On went pairs of spectacles as the numbers were called out and some intense checking and ticking of dockets followed but nobody won the jackpot tonight.

I finished my meal, paid up and left, thanking the host at the bar. He nodded but was busy in conversation with one of the old lads sipping whiskey. I went up to the Plaza on Avenida Flores for a while to let the dinner settle and watch the evening Paseo. The Mate drinkers were out in force, strolling up and down. Lots of youngsters on mopeds and small motorbikes zipped up and down the mains street, sometimes three to a bike. Some passenger cradled infants in their arms. Some golf buggies passed by with exuberant passengers!!

People stopped at the plaza to chat or to call over to say hello to acquaintences sitting on the benches. It was all very laid back, very relaxed. Tomorrow I head for Montevideo on a morning bus. As it was approaching midnight I strolled back to the hostel hoping I sleep tonight. There are 5 in the dorm tonight. Myself, three Italians and a Uruguyan so its going to be warm.

Tues 4th Nov: Buenos Aires to Colonia (Uruguay)

I got up at 6.50. Had a quick shower and went straight out the door. I took a 15 min bus ride to Avenida Cordoba and from there it was only a 5 min walk to the ferry. The sailing was at 9am but we had to be there for 8am and check in was like at an airport. I checked my rucksack in, it was tagged for Colonia Del Sacramento and trundled off on the conveyor belt. We were on the ferry about 8.45 and it pulled out into the Rio Plata bang on time at 9am. We weren´t allowed up on deck so I settled into my seat to make a start on the diary. According to the timetable the ferry crossing would take 3hrs. When we flew over the Rio Plata arriving in to B.A. it hadn^t looked that wide but this was supposed to be a slow ferry.

Outside the waters of the Rio Plata were a murky brown, not very appealing. But I think the colour was more due to sediment than to pollution as this is a major river estuary. After about 50 mins announcement came over the tannoy to the effect that we would be docking in Colonia shortly. It was a pity. I{d been looking forward to 3 hrs on the ferry.

Once off the ship we had to go through the routine of baggage collection and then inspection by customs officials. It was hot as I left the ferry terminal. The hostel I,d picked out from the guidebook looked to be close by, a 5-10min walk. Sure enough less than 10 mins later I was at the door. Even so I was lathered in sweat and felt uncomfortable. I wasn,t the only one from the ferry checking in here. THere was quite a few lining up to check in. Once through the formalities I was shown to my dorm. In fact they had advertised single rooms and I had been looking forward to a room to myself but now I was told they didn{t have any. I was disappointed but so far I was the only person in the room. I had a shower and lay down to sleep for a while. I don,t like being in dorms. They are taking a bit of adjusting to again but they are the cheapest accomodation so I,ll have to make do.

In the afternoo I had a wander down to the old town. Colonia had a colourful early history. It was set up as a base for smugglers under the protection of the portuguese to bring in Contraband in to Buenos Aires which was a spanish city. The town and its port were situated on a small peninsula across from B.A. The town was fortified from attack with strong ramparts protecting the landward side. The town gate and some of the ramparts still stand as do many of the cannons used to fend off attackers. The smuggling business was obviously very profitable for Colonia. The Spanish, unable to take the town they built a rival city as a check against Colonia. This was closer to the mouth of the estuary at Montevideo. Eventually the Spanish did capture Colonia and gave it the once over.

Today the Old town is very picturesque. The narrow treets are cobbled with quaint pink cottages, small restaurants and bars and the occasional hotel lining the avenues. The tree lined Plazas Mayor and Armas form the atmospheric heart of the place. The waterfront looks out onto a scatter of small islands in the esturay and today the water twinkels and sparkles under the sunlight. The busy Avenida General Flores links the old town with the larger new town.

What is particularly noticeable in Colonia, as opposed to B.A. are the number of ancient looking cars on the streets. In B.A. most o the cars look new or recent but here many of the cars look like they date back to the sixties. The air is fresher here than in Buenos Aires but it is a small town. The cars still cough out balls of black fumes but thankfully they get dispersed on the breeze.

In the evening I went down to the waterfront to watch the sunset. It didn{t disappoint as a brilliant orange sun turned fiery red as it slipped slowy below the horizon. Just as the last sparkle of sun disappeared a ripple of applause broke out amongst some of the onlookers scattered along the length of the promenade.

Monday Nov 3rd - Buenos Aires

Today was a fairly laid back day after encountering some of the big icons of Argentinian life yesterday. Adriano had been up to Palermo (a plush northern suburb) and said that the area around Plaza Italia was nie. I decide to head for there. I feel really lethargic today with no real enthusiasm for what I´m doing. I started sneezing at the match yesterday. Now I feel as though I´m getting a full-on head cold.

Its hot and sticky on the subway out to Plaza Italia. I glad to get out into the open air. There are a lot of ornamental parks in Palermo. Its all nice but my hearts not in it. I just stroll around aimlessly for a while. The highlight was probably seeing the dog walkers. They take the dogs of the wealthy residents for long walks while their owners are out at work. Some of the walkers had up to 20 dogs on the leash and made for quite a sight as they all walked happily together as one large pack.

Tomorrow I take the ferry to Colonia Del Sacramento in Uruguay. so I went over to the port to buy the ticket and suss out the place. Also I need to top up on some Pesos so I went to the Avenida Cordoba/Florida district to find an ATM that accepts Mastercard.

I caught a glimpse of The evening rush hour in Buenos Aires. The exhaust fumes were smothering and made my head cold feel a lot worse. The centre was a log jam of exhausts, car horns and people rushing home from work. I went back to eat in the restaurant I´d been to on the first night, Desinel on Defensa. It was a nice place with plenty of character and a chef who carved and cooked the steaks over an open grill at the front of the house. Over here beef is king and you´d better believe the steaks are juicy and wide as the pampas they came from. Don´t make the mistake that I did of ordering any thing else. The beef, accompanied by mash or papas fritas and washed down with a litr of Quilmes and you´re sorted. If i´d had this amount of protein going into me across the States I´d have knocked two weeks off the crossing.

Tonight the restaurant was busy. The chef was kept busy throwng sides of beef on to his counter to carve into steaks. A mixture of locals (always a good sign) and travellers. An Aussie couple sat close by me, a fussy Japanese couple a few feet away. Up front a group of lads in their early 20´s who looked more like surfers than backpackers. Over in the corner a group of elderly French loudly discussed something ....in French. Everybody was eating steak.

Up at the fron bar two little street urchins came in beggin for food. The barman gave them handfuls of bread and pastries and they tottered gleefully out the door with their little haul of grub. It was a bitter sweet wee scene which brought a smile but also engendered sadness at the sight of two wee toddlers scrounging for food on the streets at 10 o´clock at night. Both were in filthy clothes. The elder was only 4 or 5. The younger no more than 3yrs.

I took a last stroll up to the hostel. My head cold was feeling worse now, more like flu. A last chat with Adriano and I hit the sack. I had to be up at 7, at the ferry by 8 for a 9 o´clock sailing. I didn´t sleep well though. I was bunged up, hot and feverish throughout the night. Trust me to pick up a flu in 24c.

Sun Nov 2nd - Buenos Aires

I was up first in the room, just before 9am. I got out and about early. I wasn´t sure what time kick off for the Boca match was so I wanted to be back in the hostel for 1-2pm. Outside it seemed as if the whole of San Telmo was being taken over for the Sunday market. Stalls were being set up in all streets around Plaza Dorrega.

I took a subway to the Barrio of Recoletta, a wealthy quarter in the northern sector of the city. At 9.30am the Portenos were still sleeping off last nights excesses. It was quiet. On the way to the subway I passed by 4 street kids by a news stand huddled together asleep on a narrow matress under a blanket. Like the kids yesterday these were dead to the world. What stands out about them are their expressions as they slept. It wasn´t the relaxed, peaceful you´d see on a child at home. They had a tight, tense look about them, almost a grimace as they slept.

Recoletta certainly has a wealthy air to it. Wide avenues lined with tall buildings. Expensive looking shops, wealthy looking apartments. I was heading for the centario de Recoletta where Eve Peron (Evita) is buried. I´d heard her grave had become something of a shrine for locals so I thought it would be good to go along and visit one of the true icons of Argentina.

Situated within a large public park the cemetry is the last resting place of many of the wealth elite of B.A. Entering through the gates of the cemetry I was in for a surprise. Theis was no ordinary graveyard. If most cemetries in North America had been small, simple, dignified affairs. This was the polar opposite. Las Vegas appeared to haver come to this graveyard in a big way. Money dripped from every edifice. It was a necropolis in the truest sense of the word. A city of the dead. Streets were laid out, tightly lined with mausoleums, some of them magnificent temples dedicated to the deceased.

Tucked away in an unassuming corner lay Evitas tomb, a relatively simple mausoleum in comparison with many of the large tombs. Faced with blñack marble and lined with dedicatory plaques. Evita´s tomb always had 15-20 people to pass it.

Outside the cemetry the bells of the beautiful Iglesia de Nuestra Senora de Pilar rang calling chuchgoers to sunday mass. Retracing my way back to the subway I passed by a street girl I´d seen earlier´ Then she had been asleep under a blanket on a sofa along the side walk. She looked about 13-14yrs. Now she was awake and sitting on the sofa with an infant in her arms. I hadn´t seen the baby earlier. She watched me as I passed by. Perhaps she had seen something of my surprise register in my face as I looked at her.

When I got back to San Telmo the street markets were in full swing. Crowds thronged the narrow walkways between stalls seeling all manner of trinkets, clothes and antiques. This marke is renowned for its antiques and draws dealers from far and wide to search for bargains. Back in the hostel a kick off time of 5pm was confirmed for me. The look of that homelees girl still lingered with me. One minute I´m looking into the eyes of a homeless mother no more than a child herself. The next I´m shelling out a fairly exorbitant amount for an afternoon at a game of football.

Leaving the Hostel for the game I didn´t bring my camera. I was feeling a bit uneasy heading into La Boca after hearing how rough it was. I think the staff at the hostel play on that a bit hoping to sell all-in tickets for the games with beer in pizza thrown in for ridiculous prices. A total rip-off. As it was I was paying 4.5 times the face value of the ticket but that was only half what the hostel were looking for !! Oh those Portenos are such pranksters!!!

I had a very circuitous route I should follow given to me in the hostel in order to avoid dangerous parts. In the end I just followed the crowd to the stadium. It was a heck of a lot quicker. The game itself was a big one for Boca Juniors. A top of the table clash and local derby against San Lorenzo, the league leaders from the wealthy north of the city.

Getting to the ground meant entering the warren of streets that is La Boca Barrio. Its a rundown, rough looking area but at its heart lies its jewel La Bombonera, home of Boca Juniors. The streets were crowded with Boca fans, thousands of them. My ticket was for the terracing behind the goals at one end. In with the Ultras! The atmosphere was going to be good....... If I made it that far.

I was a little uneasy as I joined the huge queue that snaked back from the ground. I really felt I stood out as a pale-faced gringo. But that was more just paranoia on my part. To be fair to the Boca fans around me they no more cared who I was nor where I was from. There was only one thing on their mind - Beating San Lorenzo and taking top spot in the league.

As the queue crept closer to the ground 2 english speaking lads appeared on my right shoulder. It turned out they were from Dublin. So with a sense of relief I chatted with them until we got past the security check and into the ground. I lost them after that.

I got into the ground an hour before kickoff. Already both ends were filling up. All the top (shady) part of our terrace was crammed full. I had to join a queue which crept slowly down to the lower part of the terrace which was bathed in sunshine. 30 mins before kickoff the ground was rapidly filling up and the atmosphere was really cranking up. The Boca fans started their chants and songs, jumping up and down in rhythm to a samba band belting out beats behind the far goal. The ground has three tiers. I was on the second tier. The top tier above us held the San Lorenzo fans.

As the game kicked off the atmosphere was in full swing. A real South American vibe, very different from anything I´ve seen in Europe. The songs, the chants, the gestures were all very different. After 12mins Boca went 1-0 up from a corner with Riqualme of world cup fame scoring. Cue party time. This goal proved to be the winner. While the first half was very good with both sides having chances and big tackles going in. The game flagged somewhat in the second half as Boca dug in to defend their lead and ultimately take the win.

However the quality of the game was secondary to the experience it provided. Talk about the game flagging in the second half, so did I. The sun was very strong and with no suncream or hat I began to suffer. I had to put my top over my head early on to stop being burned any more than I already was. I now have a very bright nose and forehead.

Throughout the second half a constant shower of spit rained down from the San Lorenzo fans. This was very reminiscent of Wales v Italy in the San Siro in 2003. With 10 mins to go the taunting of the San Lorenzo fans began. Boca fans around me turned their backs to the action to shout insults and gesture up at the away fans. By the end of the game their taunting became merciless. Faced with a torrent of abuse the river of spit from the San Lorenzo fans dried up and they disdainfully shuffled away in defeat. We were kept in the ground for a full 45 mins after the final whistle, presumably to allow the San Lorenzo to get away safely. Finally the police cordon allowed the fans out and the Boca fans streamed out happy and content on top of the league.

Tonight I had my dinner in a new restaurant ( I thought I´d better try something new after last nights fiasco) I watched highlights of other games of the day perturbed by the fact that I´ve now seen Boca Juniors win more games over the past 10yrs than I have with Cov!! Strolling back to the hostel by Plaza Dorrega I stopped to watch an open air Tango session which was in full swing. This was the first time I´d seen the Tango as 20-30 couples swayed to the music. Old time waltz it was not. It was fascinting to see. All around the temporary dance floor people sipped wine or beer into the warm night, totally laid back.

Sat 1st Nov: Buenos Aires

Got a decent sleep last night and after breakfast went out to explore the city. Buenos Aires is very much a night town. Dinner is at about 11pm and then people go out until about 6am. So people tend to be late risers here.

The hostel I´m staying in is located in the district, or Barrio, of San Telmo. An arty, bohemian quarter just south of the city centre and just north of the Barrio of La Boca. Home to Boca Juniors and their stadium La Bombonera. La Boca is a tough working class area and can be a dangerous area to wander into for tourists and gringos.

The main thoroughfare of San Telmo is avenida Defensa which I was on yesterday and runs all the way up to the centre at Plaza Mayo. Strung out along the length of Defensa are antique shops, restaurants, art galleries and bars making this a lively district, particularly at weekends when street markets bring people out in droves.

At the heart of San Telmo is Plaza Dorrega. Its beating heart, as it were. Dorrega is a small, pretty plaza which serves, in its turn, as a street market by day, open air bar in the evening and on Sundays hosts impromptu Tango sessions.

I strolled up to Plaza Mayo and around the more ornate areas of the centre - Avenida de Mayo to Plaza Congressa. Across Avenida 9 Julio (Buenos Aires answer to the Champs Elysee. Central B.A. is scattered with plazas, wide avenues, boulevards and stately buildings. It has the look very much of a European city. The first impressions of the place are that you could be in Spain or Italy as easily as South America. The Portenos, as people from B.A. are called, are considered to have airs and graces about them are superior attitude befitting their grand European style capital. However their is a good deal of air pollution from exhaust fumes here perhaps more akin to South America than Europe nowadays.

Following Avenida Corrientes towards the pedestrianised shopping area around Avenida Florida I saw for the first time something more particular to South America than Europe, the street kids. Crossing the stately Avenida 9 Julio by the Obelisk I came across three kids sprawled out across the pavement just at the entrance to the subway. They were sound asleep (it was about 1pm). Passing pedestrians had to pick their way around the children to enter or exit the subway. The kids were splayed out in poses which, at first glance, looked as though they had been shot. I was slightly taken aback to see the children, in filthy clothes, oblivious to all and sundry in the middle of the street around midday.

It was hot so I went back to the hostel and got chatting to the two other lads in the room. One was a Venezuelan from Caracas. The other Brazilian, a vet who intends studying medecine in B.A. Upstairs Liv v Spurs was on TV. I went up to watch the last 15 mins. Another Irish lad was watching the game with two Scots. The Irish lad from Tyrone has been in South America since March and will stay on until christmas. He heads for Mendoza this evening on a night bus.

Boca Juniors are playing at home tomorrow so I set about getting a ticket. The guys at the hostel put through a phonecall to a tout and I was told he would call up with the ticket. I would have to pay 110 pesos (Approx 30 EU). I wasn´t told when the ticket would arrive and soon enough I was hungry. It was about 9pm by now and no sign of the tout. Thankfully the lad at reception said he´d by the ticket and I could give him the money later.

I went to dinner with Adriano, the Brazilian who, incidentally, doesn´t like football. He´s into his music. WE went down to the restauramnt I´d eaten last night as it had been quite good and cheap (4.50EU for the main course and 2.5EU for a litre of Quilmes.) I´d told Adriano it was quite good but instead of ordering what I´d eaten last night I went for veal cutlets. Adriano went for the same. The veal turned out to be muck. Deep down I was cringing because I´d recommended the place. After the meal I´d suggested looking into a bar along the street but something got lost in translation as we ended up going back to the hostel.

When we got back there was a Belgian woman in the room (They´re mixed dorms over here). After the usual "Where are you from? " "where are you going?" chit chat I went to reception to get my match ticket and went for a shower. When I came beck Adriano had gone out by himself. I reckon he wasn´t going to chance my choice of bars if it was anything like my taste in food! I ended up talking for a while to the Belgian which turned into half-hearted drivel. She was a bit too New Age for me. I was glad when I got to sleep really.

Fri 31st October Buenos Aires

After we took off from Sao Paolo it was bright and we could see down over Brazil then Uruguay, and then the wide Rio Plata as the plane made its final descent to Ezezia airport low, over Buenos Aires. On the ground we had to queue for quite a while to get through immigration and then to get som money changed into pesos. I had been unable to get Pesos in either Dublin or Heathrow as apparently the peso is a restricted curency.

Once I had my bags it was a case of finding a bus into town. I had the choice of a taxi $100 (25EU) or the bus $1.50 (35c). I took the bus. The one downside to the bus was the length of time it took to get into the city centre, nearly 2hrs, but it wasn´t unpleasant. Getting on the bus some locals stood back and gestured, smiling, for myself and two other backpackers to get on first. It was a nice gesture. On the bus people seemed quite friendly. One lady to whom I´d offered my seat took it upon herself to make sure I knew where we were in the city as I kept glancing at a map I had to try and figure out just that. When she was getting off she said goodbye with a gentle pat on the shoulder.

Finally we did get into the centre and at Plaza Mayo I and the other backpackers got off. The hostel was a 20min walk down Avenida Defensa which runs south for a couple of mile from Plaza Mayo. After a fairly leisurely stroll I got to the Hostel which was located just a block from Defensa in an area which, at first glance, didn´t look the best with a number of homeless people kipping out nearby.

The hostel itself, Sandanzas, had two security doors to pass through. You had to be buzzed in from reception. When I presented myself at reception the guy behind the counter said my name, welcomed me and offered me a can of beer. This was impressive. The can went down rapidly as I was parched from the travelling. Not having drunk much on the plane to cut down on trips to the toilet, and then not having drank anything since we landed. It was now 3pm local time. I was absolutely wrecked and sticky it being 31hrs sine I´d left home. .As soon as i was given my bed in a 4-bed dorm I lay down.

I dozed for a short while and got up before I really slept. I went out to buy some drinks in a shop nearby and have a look around the locality. After sending some emails in an internet cafe I showered and went to eat at a place recommended by the guy in the hostel. The restaurant was on Defensa, the street I´d followed earlier.

There was only one thing to order in Argentina and that was steak. I downed a litr of beer with the meal and a bottle of water, forgetting of course, that I was drinking around three pints of fluids in a short space of time. (I shouldn´t have done that). After the meal I went out for a look at the city centre. As I wandered around the wide avenues I soon needed to go to the toilet. This quickly became an urgent need. Nowhere could I see public toilets or a fast food outlet. Where´s a Macdonalds when you need one? Becoming frantic I tried to find a secluded part of a street. I was heading back towards the hostel but there was no way I was going to make in time. Uncomfortable incase somebody saw me I found a secluded spot and after checking noone was approaching unleashed with a very guilty sense of relief.

Uncomfortable in case somebody had indeed seen me I turned down a side street and into a street parallel to the one I´d just been on. Making my way along this street back towards the hostel some guy shouted over to me, asking me the time. He came towards me swigging from a can of beer and repeating his question. I slowed down as he got nearer. He came up to me and asked again, blocking my route. I stopped. On a balcony above us watching, a lady began to shout something and I could make out the word Policia. The lady kept shouting Policia as the lad said something more, pulled up his jumper to reveal a kitchen knife. Before he managed to take the knife out I ran, instictively, back the way I had come. My reaction had been so quick it surprised me as much as him and he didn´t follow me. I retraced my way back on to the street I´d just left. Passed the scene of my ´deluge´. I wasn´t afraid.......!!! but I stayed on the busy main streets, happy to get back to the hostel without further mishap. That ended my adventures for the day. I was very tired anyway. In a city where the night life doesn´t get started until after midnight I was in bed shortly after 10pm.

Thurs 30th Manor - Buenos Aires

On the road again with a certain feeling of apprehension. I´ve been home for 10 weeks & its flown. I got too settled at home and now hitting the road is taking me out of a little comfort zone which had built up over the weeks. No Bike at the moment I´m leaving it at home until the spring due to complications with my hip. I thought it would be easy without the bike but the edginess and pre-trip anxiety crept up on me all the same.

I got a flight to Heathrow and then a 15hr flight to Buenos Aires via Sao Paolo. I wasn´t looking forward to this flight. The novelty of longhaul flights went with the first one. I was stuck in the middle of a row for the long flight which wasn´t great. I got very little sleep and the films on show weren´t up to much either. The closer the flight got to B.A. the more anxiety began to gnaw away at me.

The were a good few people on the flight heading for the Grand Prix at Sao Paolo and queueing up to board you could overhear a few conversations about the race amongst the motor enthusiasts. Apparently Bernie Ecclestone was on the flight over.

Part Two - South America