The World's Most Dangerous Road

Bernard and I signed up to bike down the road from La Cumbre to Coroico on what is affectionately called the world's most dangerous road.  Bernard wanted desperately to do it, but at the same time was incredibly nervous about how he'd cope with the heights. After seeing all the posters and comments from others who have done the trip, I was particularly looking forward to the adventure.

We went with Gravity Assisted Mountain Bikes, the original company doing the trip and has an impeccable safety record. We met everyone early morning in town, drove 45 minutes to the start point, which is 4700m above sea level.  We were kitted out, got used to our bikes, made a blessing to Pachamama (mother earth), then rode for an hour or so down the newer paved section of the road.  The weather was fantastic - the views of the valley were awe inspiring - massive mountains and steep ravines.

After taking a ride in the bus for the short uphill section, we eventually arrive at the old road. We go in single file, riding in the smoother path of the hill which happens to be on the left on the "drop side".  We all pray that we don't come across cars traveling up the road back to La Paz.  We stop often to rest our hands from breaking so much.  The thrill as we bike down this winding bumpy road that at times is as wide as 2m across is pretty intense. I cross myself at least 3 times when I see big crosses on the sides of the road. Bernard's back breaks fail at one point, which sees him lagging behind while the guides change his breaks.  Waiting for him to reach the rest of us scares the living daylights out of me for about 10 minutes. 

But we both arrive safe and sound at our final destination - thrilled that we took the ride.  We spent two nights in Coroico - a beautiful town in the Yungas valley (which forms the edge of the Amazon rainforest). We stay in a lovely cabin just outside the town which have the most outstanding views of the valley. We wonder through town, relax in our hammock, cook an amazing feast which cost $2.20US!!! We chat with some wonderful Argentines and sit by our own campfire.

The next day we buy tickets back to La Paz in a minivan, the quickest and easiest way back. We buy 3 tickets because us gringos take up a bit more space than the tiny locals. The drive up the newer paved road is OK - however our driver insisted on taking "racing lines" and was as often on the wrong side of the road as the right ride!!! I said so many "our fathers" - I am surprised at how the road back to La Paz was just as scary as the bike ride down the more dangerous road.

La Paz

What can you say about this rather vibrant city that sits at 3600m?  It isn't necessarily a beautiful city, nor is it exceptionally charming - but it is unique. La Paz is a place where Bernard and I have comfortably spent four days wondering around the streets, buying vast arrays of alpaca goods, enhancing our DVD collection, enjoying good quality (and well priced) food and relaxing in our comfortable room.  Both occasions I have had alcohol in La Paz one small drink has gone straight to my head - so big nights out aren't exactly on my agenda - well I want to have big nights out - but end up having cheap and short nights out instead! La Paz is the ideal place to do what every traveller needs to do - their washing, catching up on internet, posting excess luggage and souvenirs home, booking next bits and pieces, and meeting fellow travellers (especially if staying at hostel).  We've bumped into many people we met on the road - La Paz is that kind of place.  Its essential pit stop on your way to anywhere.

The city is lovely at first light and at dusk - the sun shining on the tin roofs makes the steep hills of the city shimmer. When the sun isn't shining it can be extremely cold and when its raining, it can feel colder still.  The city is built into this steep valley, so if you are walking faster than a local, you'll be puffing within a block and the local will end up overtaking you. The key thing is to keep a slow and steady pace. We took a night-time tour of the San Francisco convent/church which was extremely interesting. It amazes me to see such antiquities openly on display without being locked away behind glass.  We walked around Plaza Murillo and watched many protests and marching celebrations.

The things you have to love about Bolivia

I fell in love with Bolivia six years ago - both the good and the bad.  Bernard has also found Bolivia rather charming. These a the things that make Bolivia memorable to me.

• The first are rather trying bus journeys.  The distances may not be long, but the terrain is difficult - deep valleys - long winding roads - very few bridges.  Local buses are cheap but difficult on the nerves for the roads can be narrow and the cliffsides steep.  Then you have to be comfortable peeing one the side of the road or wherever you can because public toilets are very hard to find.  So on long bus trips (which have no toilets) this means taking a pee break at every stop because you never know when the next stop is going to be!  But having travelled to Africa this year, I am much more expert at discreet peeing than I was previously.  You have to act swiftly, for you don't know how long the bus is going to stop - you have to find a good shadowy spot but be able to see the bus at all times.  My efforts in Potosi were outstanding - it was raining and I found a fabulous spot and was in and out of the bus in less than 2 minutes. The other gringo girls who went in search of a traditional loo had much to learn.

• The second thing I remember about Bolivia was the poverty - six years have passed and things are slowly changing for indigenous peoples in Bolivia. I was talking to a Norwegian woman (at our hotel in La Paz) who has been researching output of international aid in Bolivia for the past decade and there are small but significant signs of improvements in quality of life for the poor and sustainability in local economies.  For example, there are better health care provisions - more people have identity cards and therefore can vote - and a wider provision of free education for youngsters. But there are still a large number of extremely poor people in this country, and corruption in political circles is still deeply problematic. But I am taken aback by how visible the middle class Bolivians have become. The tourist trail is now not just for white gringos - many Bolivians are actively travelling around South America and internationally.

• Protests - some things don't change - Bolivians are not shy of protesting - of saying to their Government and business community that there is much that can be improved. Last time I had to walk all my gear nearly 2km out of Potosi (nearly 4000m altitude) to get past the blockades to the buses that would take us to Uyuni. That time it was miners striking for better working conditions and fair pay.  This time the bus drivers were striking in Sucre (we managed to get one of the last buses out of the city) and a mixture of workers and students (and professors) striking over a number of days in La Paz. Lighting fire crackers at 10am seems to be a normal thing to do in Bolivia - but each time it still scares the living daylights out of me!

• The dignity and charm of Bolivianos.  I cannot say enough about how wonderful these people are - they are so friendly, modest, generous and contented of people. OK so I'm naturally a happy and inquisitive person - so it isn't uncommon for me to look at people, wonder about their lives and smile - but what amazes me is how quickly the majority of Bolivianos are to smile back at you. And not just a small timid smile - a big whopper of a grin. I see so many people who live with ongoing hardship and yet I am amazed at how quick they are to smile and laugh. Everywhere I have been in Bolivia thus far, I have been greeted by warm hearted and sincere locals who want you to love their country as much as they do - the good and the bad. I get the biggest smiles from older people - and it warms my heart so that I have often been on the verge of tears.  Bernard just smiles at me.

Other things that we've enjoyed:

• The range of beer - not just lager and full of flavour. 
• The landscapes are stunning and varied.
• The value for money is exceptional - quality food and accommodation (huge rooms, mezzanine levels, outstanding views, TV, ensuite etc)

Sucre

I adore Sucre - I did the first time, and I did equally the second time I visited.  The city is just lovely - a comfortable 2900m, beautiful white washed buildings, smiling happy locals, with a noticeable wealthy quadrant of upper and middle class, wonderful restaurants and comfortable accommodations. Our guesthouse was great - perhaps a bit lax on its cleaning (we had a to ask the room to be cleaned and loo paper replaced) but our superior room which cost us 15USD pp a night was fantastic. A huge bed, TV with over 100 channels (a good English selection too) a mezzanine level with couches, ensuite and a breakfast that included bacon and eggs!  We explored the city, the thriving local market, visited the Parque Cratacious to see fantastic dinosaur tracks in the bedrock, and had dinner and drinks with friends we'd met along the way.

Perhaps the highlight was to be in Sucre when a little town called Tarabuco had its indigenous festival Pujllay.  We stayed an extra day in town so we could visit the festival - which was amazing - lots if people dressed up in costume, dancing their way from the main square to a big park where a tower was erected to honour the Gods and ensure a good harvest. The locals looked amazing - and the sound of women singing in their high pitched Bolivian voices will stay with me for a long time. I bought lots of local weavings (which I had not been able to afford last time) and gave a little girl a stuffed toy which Bernard had won for me.  The joy on her shy little face was worth it.  We took the bus trip back to Sucre delighted in having stayed an extra day.  That night we had our night bus to La Paz - this time in the comfort of cama suite - a fully flat bed.

Salt, salt, everywhere - and one hell of a bus trip

Our final day on our 4WD trip was to visit the salt flats.  Firstly I am a lucky girl because I have seen the flats in all their glory, the first time in the dry season when the hexagonal salt patterns are amazing - and this time during the wet season - where the whole flats are covered in salty water that glimmers and shimmers as far as the eye can see.  We stopped off at a village and saw how locals collect and dry the salt for sale and supported the community by buying a few bits and pieces.  Bernard and I got to sit on top of the 4WD as we drove across the salt flats to the salt hotel. We waded in the salty water, our feet and calves being exfoliated so nicely in the process - our clothes covered in salt. We all tried hopelessly to get our perspective shots just so - and try not to make our knees bleed in the process. We returned to Uyuni mid afternoon, had an expensive pizza (by Bolivian standards) passed some time in this very uninspiring city before catching our night bus to Sucre.

We were taking a very local bus to Sucre - an on this occasion Bernard and I were pleased to be travelling with our 5 other travelling companions from the 4WD.  The journey involved a stop in Potosi for an hour (at 1.30am) to change bus. As it was still raining season and much of the road unpaved, there were so many moments where I said an "Our Father" as we skidded all over the road. At one of our stops we were given a free coke - something we hadn't expected for our cheap ticket price of 8USD. When we changed to paved road I managed to sleep a little before we arrived in Potosi - and whether we liked it or not - we were kept on the bus perhaps for our safety or perhaps for our comfort, for it was extremely cold outside and not a particularly nice part of town.  We eventually switched buses and were crammed into the back seat of another local bus - Bernard and I were most uncomfortable - we didn't even fit in our seats and therefore didn't sleep a wink those three hours. We arrived in Sucre at 5am, exhausted and two hours early - so we took a taxi to our hostel (complete with open car boot that bobbed up and down along the way) - thankfully our hostel wonder answered the door at that hour, confirmed that we had a reservation and allowed us to check into our room early.  And so we slept.

San Pedro de Atacama and 4WD adventure to Bolivia

San Pedro is a lovely little oasis in one of the driest places on earth.  I was once told that it is amongst the best places in the world to view the night sky because there is cloud cover only 30 days of the year.  San Pedro is at 2500m above sea level and so was an ideal place to rest for a few days, aclimatise before we take the magnificent 3 day 4WD crossing into Bolivia - during which time you'll reach altitudes of close to 5000m!!!  We stayed in a lovely hostel - an error in our favour saw us upgraded the first night which was nice - if only the hostel had hot water!!! We amused ourselves in town, buying colourful socks, hats and coca leaves - the circus was in town but we decided not to go.  When I saw broccoli at a fruit & veg stall I went a little bonkers (according to Bernard) - I bought the lot and told Bernard we're having veggie pasta for dinner!!!

We bought our 4WD off Roco - the slightly charming but dodgy Chilean (Bernard prefers to describe him as pushy) who lied to everyone about many aspects of the trip - but delivered in terms of quality cars, drivers and value for money. And so, early the next morning we set off with our new English and Israeli friends into the Bolivian wilderness. This was my favourite adventure from my previous trip - and so was eager that Bernard should enjoy it.  However, its a little bit harder on the body going from Chile into Bolivia because you climb 2000m to reach the border crossing into Bolivia and you stay at that altitude for the next two days.  We crossed gorgeous lagoons, geysers, thermal pools, volcanos and rock formations and the endangered vacunas (smallest of the llama family). Bernard had a pretty tough first day/night adjusting to the altitude whereas I had a pretty hard second day.  But we both enjoyed the trip and arrived safe and sound in Uyuni.

The long hop to Santiago onwards to San Pedro de Atacama

Our flights out of Brazil were going to test the strength of my nerves and the efficiency of south american efficiency.  Our itinerary included two layovers and flights with three different providers.  We thought either our luggage isn't going to arrive - or even we might not make it to Santiago as planned.  But, I am incredibly impressed with how seamlessly the day came together. We checked our bags the whole way through to our final destination, and although we had to collect boarding passes from the next carrier every time we arrived in transit - still managed to make our connections without any difficulties.  We arrived on time, as did our luggage, and we even bought bus tickets and checked into our hostel an hour earlier than we were expecting.  Our hostel was a cute little place not far from where we stayed last time.  I'm not sure whether I was overly hard on Santiago last time, but this time the city felt different, more inviting. Perhaps it was due to the fact that we were more comfortable in our surroundings - and in general there were lots of more people about.

We made the most of our day in Santiago - between watching the impact of the earthquake and tsunami in Japan and across the pacific, exploring the fish market, going to the Bellas Artes museum, through to stocking up on toiletries and other necessities (Ladies - let me tell you, its very hard to find tampons in South America). We have since perfected the art of making veggie/tuna pasta in hostels regardless of the size of the kitchen.  We headed off to our night time bus to San Pedro de Atacama - Bernard got the last seat in Cama (he's tall - he needs the room) whereas I took the semi-cama seat upstairs, which proved to be a good move given the bus wasn't completely full.  I ended up moving to a spare seat at the end of the bus and remarkably ended up sleeping rather well.

Praia do Santinho

We arrived at our accommodation, which reminded me of small town country motels at 2.30am and slept like logs. In the morning after a hearty breakfast we met some friendly Brazilians, and before we knew it, we were drinking beer and talking about Brazilian politics poolside at 12pm. We had lunch a little hut down the road then explored the beach - golden sand and surf that reminded me of the beaches in Wollongong so much. That night a local bloco was taking place so we waited, and waited and waited for 3 hours until everyone had got themselves organised then joined the locals as they danced down their streets to the sound of this one song that said something like "join the party - this is Brazil - this is carnival".  It may not have had the spectacle of carnival in the bigger cities - or be even resemble other carnivals where the black legacy of celebration is more marked. But it was wonderful to see ordinary people celebrating carnival - friends and families coming together to dress up, dance and have fun together.

Our days in Florainopolis were spent relaxing - sleeping in most mornings, relaxing by the pool, going to the beach when the weather wasn't too hot or too wet - discovering places to eat well and cheaply - trying to get around the island without getting stuck in traffic jams - and trying to soak up carnival spectacle as much as we could. The weather did thwart us a little - we were hoping to watch the street parade in the main township one evening, but it was dark, wet and raining, we arrived too early and nobody was about - so we gave up and went back to our part of the island. 

The highlight of our time in Florianopolis was our final day - walking along the nature reserve to another beach - pretty good surf - fairly isolated with next to nobody around except a few families and surfers.  We took a walk along the dunes to the beach, and then took the longer walk (about 1.5hrs) around the headland through lush jungle terrain to get back to Praia do Santinho.  Earlier that day I had perhaps the best Acai I've ever tasted (and given I'd had Acai 8 times during this trip in Brazil that was quite a call) and after the long walk back we sat at a bar by the beach and had some wonderfully cold beer and some lulas (calamari). We people watched for an hour or so, watching Brazilians in all their shapes and sizes - from the vanity of those who wear nothing - those who honestly shouldn't be wearing next to nothing, through to the men who like wearing trunks so tight that absolutely nothing is left to the imagination. A fun way to finish with Brazil.

Rain and traffic jams

A few hours south of Rio - a stunning part of Brazil - beautiful beaches, cute little colonial cities - the only problem was the weather was completely against us.  It pretty much rained the entire three days we spent in Parati and Trindade.  The main consolation was that our hostel in Trindade was absolutely fantastic - this town is just gorgeous - nestled between rainforest and the sea - with natural rock pools and stunning beaches - it would have been heaven itself if only the weather had been more inviting.  We spent our time watching movies with other travellers, playing cards, and exploring the area without a raincoat - for once you were completely soaked you couldn't really get any wetter, and it wasn't really that cold.  It was so wet that we don't even have decent photos to do this place justice.  On our final night I did a session of yoga which was fantastic - good to stretch our all those muscles - clearly my year of pilates helped because I was the most flexible and controlled of all the people doing the session.  

We reluctantly left Trindade for our bus to Sao Paulo - we stayed in town for the first night of Carnival - we had hoped to be able to meet a mutual friend and head towards the street parade, but it was raining and the parade started so late (11pm) that our 6am wake up call meant we didn't end up going out - but rather watched bits and pieces on the TV.  We still got to see remounts of the parade at 7.30am as our bus went through town!  Sao Paulo is an enormous city - we spent well over 1.5 hours on the highway just getting out of the city itself.  Rio is well known for its favellas - but I tell you, the favellas in Sao Paulo are on a completely different scale. Our destination was Florianopolis for the rest of carnival.  Florianopolis is on a large island in southern Brazil - with beautiful beaches and fabulous atmosphere.  But during Carnival brazil goes crazy - again you have to take the good (street parties, parades, and spectacles) with the bad (horrendous traffic jams, shockingly high prices for everything).  In this particular instance it took our bus 4 hours to cover a stretch of 40 kms because traffic was that horrendous.  Our bus was due to arrive in town at 6.30pm, but we arrived at 1.30am and then had to get a 60USD taxi to our pousada on the north of the island.  But this is the price you pay for being in Brazil at this time of year.

Rio Rio Rio!!!

Rio de Janiero is a city unlike any other.  Bernard did not have a great introduction to the city on his birthday, the day of our arrival - our taxi driver from the airport was horrendous - I was weak and tired from my gastro bug - it was impossibly hot and humid - the room at our hostel didn't have air conditioning as we had thought, and the room was twin bunks and small.  Rio was horribly expensive - actually, prices across all of Brazil at this time of year is beyond a joke - it was quite a shock for us both to take in after such reasonable prices across Argentina. We did very little that first day, owing to the fact that I couldn't really do much. Poor Bernard couldn't even find a place that served cake (for his birthday).  But the next day things improved - we took in the beaches, got better orientated to our neighbourhood (Gloria / St Theresa - I would highly recommend staying in that part of town), saw myriad of people all dressed up for Blocos (street parties) all around the city.

Rio is a beautiful city - you couldn't ask for a better setting of mountains, beaches and lagoons - but it is grim - favellas sit right next to luxury - the "haves" and the "have nots" sit in such close proximity to each other - the amount of poor people we saw passed out on the streets during the lead up to Carnival was distressing.  The smell of piss and shit on the streets after a bloco can almost make you retch. The vanity and self-centredness of so many Cariocas (locals) is less than attractive - but their energy, love of life and charisma is infectious. If you want to dance and party both day and night - then Rio is definitely the place to be. It is a place you should visit in your lifetime - but you must be prepared to take the good with the bad.

Our highlight of Rio was getting to see Flamengo (including the amazing buck-toothed Ronaldinho) play in the local cup. Our hostel arranged tickets for us with a local tour operator - he took 5 foreigners to join him and 8 of his mates for the match.  His friends gave us beer in the car and were such avid supporters that one particular woman's colourful choice of language even made 20 year old tattooed boys in the crowd giggle. They were so kind to us - fantastic people to be around and were the reason we enjoyed our day so much. The players were on the pitch in 40 degree heat at 4pm - having to stop to take on fluids during each half - something we hadn't seen in Europe, well ever! Ronaldinho scored the only goal of the day, and it was impressive kick over the wall of players and everything. The crowd went nuts and after the game we joined all the fans in the Flamengo neighbourhood for an impromptu street party. Very very cool.  Then the heaven's opened and we decided to make our way back to St Theresa for a late dinner.  Fantastic day.

The weather began to change from this point - the whole south coast of Brazil had a month of dry weather and so of course the heavens had to open at some point.  Unfortunately this was the day that we had planned to go see Cristo Redentor - we didn't get to go up because the weather was so bad you couldn't see Cristo or the city.  So on our last day we went into centro, walked around Lapa (and its famous viaduct), had our final overpriced dinner (including being charged for the pleasure of hearing musicians play - this happens across Brazil apparently) and managed to talk to a few friends and family on Skype.  The next day we checked out of our hostel - took the first tram up to see Cristo - fog was obscuring the view of the city, but the pictures of Cristo emerging from the cloud were stunning.  Then headed onto our bus to Parati, 4.5 hours south of Rio.

After a week of waiting - finally Igaucu!!!

We ended up waiting a full week in BA for my mail to arrive.  It arrived at lunch time on a Monday - you can imagine how ecstatic both of us were. We decide to fly to Iguazu to make up some lost time, make the necessarily bookings and arrive in good spirits.  Our hostel is fabulous (Hostel Bambu - Argentina side).  We drop off our passports at the Brazilian consulate (extremely easy process from there) and see the falls from the Argentine side.  Having already been before I was amazed at how different the experience can be when the falls are at their fullest - the amount of water going over the entire falls is staggering.  Unfortunately the amount of spray (and visitors) means you don't get to witness the amazing wildlife as readily - butterflies where there but not in the same abundance as previously.  That said, we still enjoyed the falls incredibly.  

The next day, we picked up our passports with no problems at all and then made our way into Brazil.  We checking into the sister hostel in the Brazilian side, stayed in the smallest room we have enjoyed to date (they gave us a discount because its so small), and checked out the Brazilian side of the falls in late afternoon.  So glad we went that late - there were hardly any other tourists around - Bernard was able to take a number of great photos, despite the view being obstructed at times by the volume of spray.  We went onto the walkway mouth of the devil's pools and got completely soaked (except for our cameras of course) then had to pack our wet clothes and hope they didn't smell too much by the time we got to Rio.  Unfortunately, I got a gastro bug that night that completely wiped me out - I got next to no sleep - couldn't eat properly for days - and to top it all off, the hostel played loud (thumping) music until 4am, when we had a 6am wake-up call.

To the countryside

Well the card didn't arrive in the post the next day, or the day after.  Bernard and I were both so incredibly grumpy that we decided we needed to get out of BA for a little while.  I've always wanted to go to an estancia, so we stayed at one an hour and a half away for the weekend.  We didn't realise until we arrived that the farm component of the estancia was quite removed from the tourist display we turned up to.  The farm is huge, over 500 hectares, but we saw little of that.  The place was lovely enough - we stayed in the converted stables which was rustic and charming, although saying the bed was a little small for Bernard was somewhat of an understatement.  Every day is the same - people arrive at 11am - they eat empanadas, go for a 15minute horse ride, have a big BBQ lunch and enjoy a 2 hour dancing and music show - then they see an hour of gauchos on horses doing their tricks and stuff.  The evenings we are left on our own, no explanation of what we can do, and where to have dinner, and staff that speak zero English.  We were thankful once again for our basic spanish course. 

We stayed for two nights, so by day 2 I'm eager to go on a proper horse ride (and go faster than walk that's for sure) and Bernard doesn't want to be anywhere near the singing and dancing. We find a happy medium - I am assured I will get a longer ride with a gaucho that afternoon, and Bernard and I can have BBQ in the main house away from the day-trippers.  We also get a room upgrade which ensures we have a better night sleep.  But then things start to unravel when on my horse ride (without a helmet I must add) I try to do English style trot stance and the horse thinks I am wanting to gallop and that's exactly what it does.  For a few moments it canters (fine), then turns a corner and starts to gallop - I have to dodge rather large branches, and all the time I'm screaming to the gaucho to get this horse to stop.  I'm clearly so focused on staying on (which I do successfully, to which the gaucho is clearly thankful) but after five minutes the horse finishes his "track" and takes me back to the start.

I get of the horse unsteadily - I am offered a ride on a slower horse which I take up.  But then the horse is SO slow it doesn't even respond to my or the gaucho's direction.  I give up and go back to the main house frustrated that I haven't been able to articulate my ability better to the Spanish speaking gauchos. I notice that I have a tonne of bruises on my inner right thigh from holding on so tightly. The next day I don't go for a horse ride - we enjoy the music and dancing for the second time (Bernard leaves half way through) and we leave the place wishing that we had better grasp of Spanish.  It wasn't all gloomy - we got away from the busy city for a few days - we did genuinely get some peace and quiet at night and we got as much value out of the all you can eat and drink as possible!!!

Waiting, just waiting.

On Monday we were hoping, perhaps naively that my credit card would have arrived in the mail from the UK.  But they didn't arrive – so we booked another night at the hostel hoping that they would arrive the day after.  They didn't. By Tuesday afternoon I was a teary mess – tired and cranky, snapping at Bernard for no reason and unable to enjoy my time in BA. Both Bernard and I didn't want to be here any more – we wanted to be in Brazil and the waiting was starting to drive us both bonkers.

Today has been much the same.  Waiting.  Just waiting for each day's morning post.  Then knowing the outcome of the post, making plans for the rest of the day, the night's accommodation, how to fill in our afternoons between checking out of one hostel (full) into another (nearby). There could be worse places to spend a week – this we both acknowledge – but it is so hard to enjoy somewhere when you so desperately want to be somewhere else. So we're making the best of it – I've been revising my spanish nearly every day – not that I'm speaking that much of it. We go out for 2 hour walks every day (some days we'll walk for hours); Bernard's been watching champion's league matches on TV (go Spurs – Lennon/Crouch goal against AC Milan was superb).  We bought some DVDs from a guy off the street and 1 out of the 3 was in English – even though it was thoroughly disappointing (the latest with Depp/Jolie). I watched the King's Speech in Spanish – I think I got the jist of it. We continue to enjoy the Argentine meals and our regular San Telmo parrilla hasn't disappointed.

Tomorrow morning I wake up early to speak to my father before his long overdue shoulder surgery. I think of people at home a lot –my grandparents especially and of Bernard and my forthcoming wedding. Hard not to when we've been bumping into couples who are engaged or have just got married. Talk inevitably goes to wedding plans. Too much time you see – I have too much time on my hands to just think. Not good.  I'm hoping my next entry will an ecstatic “we're on our way to Brazil – yay!!!”

Returning to BA – Boca Juniors and the Bombonaria

We arrived in BA at 8.30am after a luxurious overnight bus trip in 1st class.  But it doesn't matter how luxurious that might sound – after travel of that length all you want is to crash on a lovely bed for an hour or so, shower and feel human again.  Yet, unfortunately we weren't able to access our room at the hostel until midday.  The hostel were good to us, they at least allowed us to check in much earlier than their designated time of 3pm, but it meant spending another three or so hours patiently sitting in reception, wasting time.

We showered and met our Al & Libbly, our Aussie travel buddies, for lunch in San Telmo where we were staying.  It was a lovely day – sun shining and all that.  We didn't spend long in the market, but we did stay long enough for me to buy Bernard a toy for 5 pesos (just over an Aussie dollar) that makes the sound of a chicken. Great value and Bernard has enjoyed it very much, as you would expect.  We found a great place to eat lunch – a car park that had transformed itself into a BBQ style cafe.  We ate delicious spicy sausage with herb sauce sandwiches (Choripans). As we were finishing our lunch a pretty good nouveau classical violin trio started busking in the street – the sound reverberated around the old buildings just beautifully.  Only in BA can two completely different elements be juxtaposed so effortlessly – eating tasty fast food in a car park – but be surrounded by old cobbled streets and serenaded by classical musicians. 

After grabbing a few beers with Al & Libby we both went back to our respective hostels and got ready for the big game. Watching Boca Juniors play at home. What an experience.  We arrived at the stadium a full 2 hours early – to get good seats in the stand, and probably for our own safety too.  Best be in the stand safely before the ultras arrived. We went through proper security to ensure we didn't have anything dangerous on our possession. We sat on concrete bleachers in the late evening sunshine for the remainder of the time until the game started, then we stood for the entire game, a delicate balance of locals and foreigners wedging themselves into quite a tight place.

The game was pretty good – Boca lost, which was disappointing, but there were lots of attempts at goal which made the game go fast. But I was more overwhelmed by the boca fans. The sound, the sound of these people with their drums, trumpets, feet and voices and whatever else. I can imagine how playing Boca Juniors at home would be a significant home crowd advantage.  After the game we were locked into our stand for a full half hour to allow the away fans etc to leave.  We didn't actually get our beer & pizza until 10.30pm. A long day, but well worth the effort. The sound of the bombonaria will stay in my mind for a very long time.