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