BUENOS AIRES: STOLEN

Remember the days before mobile phones? The days when people had to actually talk to one another, without the means of Face book, email and Whatsapp! I know! I don't remember either. Your mobile phone these days is like your right arm (left as well if your left handed or ambidextrous, which would be both)! It's like your whole world revolves around this little electronic device and the thought of not having your mobile with you 24/7? Well, it would be the end of the God Dam world, and this is what happened to me recently. I had my right hand cut off. I had my phone stolen!

Me and Prue returned to Buenos Aires, in time to meet our friend Becky Brown or BB as I like to call her, who was arriving that night, but first we had to check into the apartment we had rented for the week. We actually figured that it worked out the same to rent an apartment for the week as it was staying in some sweaty dormitory in a hostel with a load of 18 year old backpackers. Being English we were there on time to pick up the key which surprised the apartment guy when he arrived.  Though I think anything might surprise the apartment guy as he was a little too wired from some acid rave thing, the night before.  He was a strange thing; small with the frame of a child and was wearing some awful double denim outfit, with goth boots! He showed us into the apartment. Now I'm use to staying in places that well?  Maybe aren't up to most peoples standards.  OK! Shit holes! But they are cheap shit holes, OK! So as we get into the apartment I think we are in a palatial place.  When I say say palatial palace this means for me that there are no rats, I don' think I'm going to wake up with bed bugs and there is hot water.  Amazing! Prue has other ideas.  The selling point on this place for us was the fact that it had its own little swimming pool. Prue walks straight out to the pool, where she finds it shaded by a canopy (We were told it would have sun).  The pool itself is extremely dirty and looks like it hasn't been cleaned in a century, maybe more. Prue is not happy and rightly so as we also find a piss smelling towel in the bathroom, though I'm still thinking palatial place.  Prue is not.  What follows is this: A very feisty, determined English woman trying to clean a pool with a brush and then using the handle of the brush to hit the canopy back to the side, while then demanding to speak to the boss.  Child man hands over his phone.  Prue then starts a hostage style negotiation on how the rent should be lowered with the boss.  Its at this point child man has reached his downer from the night before, becomes very stressed and starts smoking a cigarette vigorously. Oh and what was I doing you ask?  I was being terribly English sat downstairs in the bedroom, not wanting to complain and pretending it wasn't happening.
The end result: Reduction on the rent!
Prue: 1           Apartment boss: 0
Conclusion= Do not mess with an English woman on a mission, well not Prue anyway, which I became glad of, especially after her saving us some money and the fact the toilet and the sink started leaking the next day (That's why there was a piss smelling towel in the bathroom)!   Total bastards!

BB arrived in the usual BB manor; happy; excited and wide eyed even though she had been travelling for well over 24 hours.  It was the only Saturday night we had in Buenos Aires and BB was still keen in her over tired state to hit the town.  So we put on our best glad rags and decided to hit the terribly fashionable area of Palermo.  Now we had been told by an Argentinian friend of ours, Alejandro  (Remember him from my last trip to BA, if not read the post here) who was no longer living there, that we had come to Buenos Aires at the worst time of year (Actually he didn't quite say it like that! He said we were f**ked instead: Soooo Ale)! This is because during January most people leave town for the beaches of Brazil or Uruguay because its too dam hot!  Most places shut down and its like a ghost town. "OK, but it still a city" I told myself "There will be something going on? It's Buenos Aires, the party city?"
Only in the beautiful, classy city of Buenos Aires could we end up in a bar that reminded me of Macaulay's bar back in Warrington during my teenage years (Basically rough as shit)! We had been lured to the bar by a sweet talking Argentinian guy with deep blue eyes that you wanted to jump into like the sea.  He was obviously employed by the bar for that reason and it worked! Well that was until you got into the bar and paid ten pounds to wear a band which meant you could drink all you wanted.  When I say drink I mean it was like paint stripper mixed with food colouring which made most of the drinks bright pink! Hmm?  I feel like I'm on a club 18 to 30 holiday, but we have paid our money now and we are going to make the most of it.  Besides we are British and we will drink any old crap! We have two Argentinian guys with us who have tagged along.  They don't speak any English but me and Prue can manage small talk with them.  BB on the other hand doesn't speak any Spanish what so ever or does she? Because its at this point that we are first introduced to the Becky brown school of language.  The Becky Brown school of language consists of this:

1.  You don't speak any other language other than English and you only speak to all foreign people in English.

2.  You smile a lot.

3.  You are extremely nice and lovely so everyone completely loves you even if they can't understand you.

4. You really just don't care, whether you can understand someone or you them; your in Latin America having an amazing time.

The Becky Brown school of language does work though.  There were times throughout the trip where me and Prue were concentrating so hard to understand what people were saying to us without much of a clue, that BB would just turn around to us and say "I understand!"
"How the Hell do you understand when you don't speak any Spanish?" would be are response.
"Because its in their faces!  I can tell what they are saying from their faces and their emotions" she replied, and you know what she could.  The Becky Brown school of language, definitely beats Rosetta Stone any day.

Even enough paint stripper drinks couldn't disguise the fact that we were in the shittiest bar in Buenos Aires.  The final straw came when we were trying to dance to some crap house music and saw some heavily pregnant skank teenager dancing and drinking paint stripper behind us.  Time to make a sharp exit, before she gives birth on the dance floor.  We find ourselves in a big night club that looks a whole lot better than club 18 to 30, though by this time we are so drunk anything would look good.  Its from here on in, things become a little hazy.  I remember getting my phone out to take some pictures of us all posing like idiots that would later be probably put up on Face book, where people would probably put that they like them, when really they are thinking, total idiots.  About 10 minutes later when I think I'm dancing amazingly to some Latin beats (I'm not!) I go to my bag to look at my phone to see what time it is.  Nothing! I fumble drunkenly around my bag, but its a small bag.  You could tell if it was there or not, easily.  I also know its impossible for it to have fallen out.  I've been pick pocketed! Bastards!!!!!!  I would of screamed but I think I was too drunk to really of registered what had happened.  Its the fact that I'm so drunk that I decide to go looking on the floor for it, even though I know its been stolen.  I'm kind of clutching a straws.  I'm just barging in between people with my head to the ground and I think at one point I'm on my hands and knees on the floor.  I look up and see the others and wonder what a fly on the wall would think. BB's jet lag seems to have kicked in and she is delirious on the dance floor with her eyes shut, arms open, dancing like some crazy hippie.  Prue is now being dry humped by one of the Argentinian guys on the dance floor (I believe the Latins call this dancing) and I'm crawling around on my hands and knees looking for a phone I will never find.  Another great night out then?

 The next day I wake with a bad head and the realisation that my phone is really gone.  I'm in mourning.  I'm also having flash backs to when we got home from the club.  I recall BB Skyping her parents and them asking me how I was which my response was some thing like "Not so good as some F**cking bastard has stolen my phone! I'm so f**cking angry" (Luckily her parents have a good sense of humour) and then having a rant on live chat with O2 when they informed me that I could not get a new phone or Sim card until I got back to the UK! (I think I told the woman at O2 that she had ruined my life and she was going to go to Hell)! Oh God!  I won't have a phone or a British Sim for over 2 months!  Oh holy mother Mary of God!  In the whole time I have travelled I've never not had a phone.  Its my Internet, my texts, my camera, my music, my blog as well as my phone. Arrrrgghhhhhh!!!!!! Its my everything!  OK! I know its not the end of the world.  No one has died! There are worse things in life.  Anyway living without a phone for 2 months will be liberating, won't it?

We have been having a bit of trouble with wankers on our trip.  They are everywhere.  In our beds, bathrooms, on the streets, everywhere!  We first started to encounter them in Buenos Aires.  They are just horrible and they are so hard to kill! Oh! Sorry! Am I confusing you?  I am not a serial killer unless you are a Buddhist; then I would be classed as one.  I am not referring to men as wankers, though a lot of them are! I'm referring to Cockroaches!  Me and the girls have started calling cockroaches wankers.  I think everyone should do it.  Its very refreshing!  For example nothing can beat the sound of your friend in the morning screaming, "There is another one! There is a wanker in the shower.  I'm going to kill it!" followed by the banging of a flip flop and "Die wanker! Die!" As I said, a very refreshing way to start the day.

I can see why everyone leaves Buenos in January.  Its hot! Really hot! Thank God for the dirty swimming pool!  No really! Thank God for the dirty swimming pool.  Anyway its not too bad as me and Prue cleaned it up a bit and found how to work the filter.  Its a perfect haven in fact.  Now that Prue has demolished the canopy with a broomstick the sun is shining through and as its our own private pool and garden we decide that means our rules.  so in no time its topless sunbathing all round.  Yes!  We finally get to go topless in South America.  In fact its hard to keep your clothes on once we are in the apartment.  we jump into the pool after a day of walking around the city into its ice cold water.  Its so refreshing. There was a moment after one night out, that the heat was far too much for me, which is a rare thing.  It was oppressive and I felt I couldn't breath.  There was only one thing to do.  I stripped completely naked and jumped into the pool.  I was soon followed by Prue.  The water was amazing. So there we are a couple of English girls splashing around naked in a pool in the middle of Buenos Aires in the early hours of the morning, drinking wine.  I'm not sure whether the neighbours could see us? They probably could and thought "What the Hell are those English chicks on?" but in the words of Becky Brown "I don't really care!"
Next stop Montevideo.

BENIDORM BAD GIRL 5: IGUAZÚ FALLS

Sometimes as I find out a lot, life can be full of disappointments. As I journeyed to Iguazú falls, which is classed as one of the new 7 wonders of the world, on the border of Argentina and Brazil, I expected to be disappointed again. I heard they were amazing off so many travellers, but I kept saying to myself how good can a bunch of waterfalls be?

I was now back on the road with the gorgeous Maria, which was great. We ventured in the morning to the national park, with me a bit under parr as I'd been up drinking till the early hours of the morning with a group of 7 Aussie guys (what is it with me and Aussie guys)? Maria was really excited, but I was just sat there in mood thinking I'd rather go back to bed. As she dragged me along to see Garganta del Diablo, the biggest of all the waterfalls, all I kept thinking I was going to throw up.

Then something amazing happened. I saw the waterfall. I wasn't disappointed. No! It actually exceeded anything I could of ever imagined in my mind. For the first time in ages, something took my breath away, and suddenly my hangover disappeared. I stood there in awe of the beauty and power of nature.

The waterfalls do something crazy to you and me and Maria spent the rest of the day running around like excited children taking in everything.

The next day we hit the Brazilian side to see more of the falls (it's important to do both sides as they give different views). I only had a short time to see it as I had to catch a bus back to the Argentinean side to catch my bus to Rio. "Must not miss that bus!" I told myself.

As I said before, the waterfalls have a strange effect on you and I got completely side tracked and kind of forgot the time! I rushed back to the entrance to find that my bus had gone. Brazil got to witness it's first Kevin as I was stamping my feet a lot and shouting "Shit! Shit! Shit!" So I'm stuck in Brazil, with no Brazilian money, I don't speak Portuguese and I have to try and get back over the border into Argentina to catch my bus that leaves in an hour and a half! Shit! After my initial freak out I go back into experienced traveller mode and decide to use the only thing that is going to get me out of this mess: My feminine charms!

Being a blonde in South America has been a bit of pain most of the time, but now I used it to my advantage. In no time at all, after doing my little girl lost act, I'm on local bus for free, with some local guy making sure I'm OK. He gets me to a bus that is going to the border which I also get on for free, and then the bus driver becomes my new guardian and makes sure I cross the border safely. I'm back with half an hour to spare to catch my bus. Good going girl, I think to myself. Actually sometimes its good to be a woman.

I sit on my bus heading to Rio thinking, Yes, the last two days I have seen this world at it's most beautiful and I then remember the reason why I travel, for moments like these.

NB: Please note these photos and videos can not come near to summing up what I have seen. I suggest you all go and bloody see it yourselves.

ITS A MANS WORLD

Sometimes, I wish I had a penis, I really do. Sorry that sounds a little strange! What I mean to say, is that I wish sometimes I was a man. It would just be so much easier, especially when traveling, because as much as I hate to say it, the truth of the matter is, it's a man's world out there. Men just have it all there own way. They get don't periods; they can sleep with as many people as they want and get called studs, while women just get called slags; they are always right, even when they are wrong; they usually get better looking as they get older; and they can pee easily in public places. Yes its most certainly a man's world!

In Latin America, I have found myself in probably the heart of a male dominated society, where what the man says rules, where most men have affairs as often as meals; where a woman's main purpose is to please a man. Being as fiery and as fiercely independent as I am, I was always going to find this side of Latin America hard to stomach. I've never been good with men telling me what to do. In fact my head strong ways with men, has often given me the reputation of being a crazy girl, but only from men, (funny that)!

So I now I found myself on my travels, in Buenos Aires; the most, vibrant, cosmopolitan city in Latin America; the place of the beautiful people; the Paris of the south. I had also heard from others on the road it was the place where there were the most Arrogant men on earth. Well this is going to be interesting I thought. I had experienced some Argentineans in Cartagena, in Colombia, where the Buenos Aires rich kids went for vacation. They were some of the most handsome men I have ever seen in my life, but boy did they know it! Their arrogance seeped from their pores as they sat there, thinking; look at me; look at how beautiful I am; I'm God dam amazing! Yeah what ever, I thought!

My friend back in London, Prue, had put me in contact with her friend Alejandro, a local to Buenos Aires, who she had met during a trip to Costa Rica. Prue had warned me before hand, that even though she adored Alejandro, he was very Argentinean, which meant very arrogant. Oh God, did she not realise she was asking for trouble, by giving me an arrogant man to hang out with and to be my guide! When you last left me, on my adventure I was alone in the bus station after arriving in Buenos Aires. The first thing I did was ring Alejandro, as he had asked me to, when I got to the city. The conversation is as follows:
"Hola"!
"Hola, it's Carly, Prue's friend."
"Did you get my emails? Why have you not responded!"
"I've been on a bus for 24 hours"!
"Why didn't you say"!
"Because I've been on a bus for 24 hours"!
"Why are you ringing me at this time, I was a sleep"!
"Its 10.00am, it's not that early and you told me to ring you remember"?
"I've got you an apartment, to say in"!
"Why did you do that! I told you I was going to say in a hostel"!
"Don't you want a place of your own"?
"Of course I do, but I backpacking, I can't afford it"!
"Hostels are expensive here, you can afford it"!
" How much is it"?
"$300 dollars per week. You won't find a hostel cheaper than that!"
" I have, it's 60 Pesos a night, a third of that price."
"Oh!"
"I'm going to the hostel".
"Come here now, to mine. You can have a shower".
"Why, when I can go to my hostel and have one?"
"My place is better"!
"What are you going on about"!
"So your not coming here"?
"No, do you not listen to me"!
"Only 30% of the time. Right woman, you woke me up. I'm going back to sleep. Ring me or Face Book me later woman and we go out."
"OK"!
The line goes dead, and I'm left there holding the phone wondering what the hell just happened. Wait a second, I think to myself, did he just call me woman? Yes he did! Twice! Something tells me this is going to be war!

After a few very direct face book messages, we arrange for him to pick me up from my hostel. He is not a disaapointment, he's exactly as I imagined; very handsome, brimming in confidence and completely arrogant! Its clear from the off me and him are going to have a feisty relationship. He tells me to shut up woman a lot. I tell him to shut up too, a lot. I tell him he's very annoying; he's says I'm annoying. I tell him he's the most arrogant man I've ever met in my life (and that's saying something)! He's says he's not arrogant, he's just the best at everything, because he's Argentinean! He says Argentina has the best looking people, are the best lovers and are the best at football. I tell him the English invented football. He said it doesn't matter as we are shit and Argentina kick our ass.
"What by cheating with your hands"! is my reply.
He then runs round the room waving his hand above his head, shouting
"The hand of God, Maradonna is a God".
"No he's not", I retort " He's a fat, drug, using, alcoholic now"! This goes down like a ton of bricks.
"Woman I will forgive you for what you have just said, but others would kill you for that, Maradonna is a God here"!
"What ever"! I snap.
"Oh and don't tell anyone here your English, we hate the English. Tell them your Austrailia or Canadian other something"!
"I will not! What, is this because we beat you in the Falklands. Don't be a sore loser"!

As you can tell, we spend most of our time widing each other up and arguing. I think if you were a fly on the wall you would find us very entertaining. All that said, I have actually grown very fond of him. Underneath all the bravado, was actually some one very sweet. He took me out every day, opened doors for me and even though I found it hard at first, he paid for things. It was quite old fashion behaviour, something I'm not use to as a modern independent woman, but is it wrong to say that I actually quite liked it. I guess deep down inside, I do for all my feistiness, like some one taking care of me.

Ale (That's what I started calling him) invited me to his house leaving party on the Saturday. I got an email to say to bring as many women as possible, but no men. When I turned up with just me, he was like,
"Why didn't you bring any women"!
"Its not rent a brothel" I told him "So piss off"! And stormed up stairs. I then realised why he wanted me to bring more girls, as I stormed into his flat to find I was the only girl, in a room of about 20 Argentinean guys. Not like I was complaining, most of them were hot. Heaven! There I was sat amongst all these guys, and the total centre of attention. It didn't last long, as Alejandro's girls did eventually turn up, though I did at one point, accuse him of not knowing any! Not like it mattered. I had an amazing night. I think I made friends, danced and had fun with everyone there. The guys were total filrts, like I expected them to be, but there is one instance from the night that stands out. I was talking to one of Ale's friends most of the night called Thomas who was very handsome with big blue eyes, who seemed quite charming. As it came time for him to leave he waltzed up to me and casually said " I'm going home now. Are you coming with me or not"? I stood there, thinking you cheeky bastard and said " "Ermmm? NO"!
He stormed off. Five minutes later he came up to me again, tapping numbers into a phone, and said, "Well just so you know, I'm ringing another girl now, because its Saturday night and I need sex, and she will give it to me"!
I'm sat there, thinking what the hell! Then I let rip! I inform him that he's crazy, that does he think by saying this I will go "Oh, sorry! I am now really jealous. Please can I come home with you"; that his behaviour is rude and not acceptable to me; that women are not something you just have sex with and for him to get some respect. After my rant he left. I later find out, he's married with a kid. It doesn't surprise me, nothing does anymore. This is why I would never have a Latin boyfriend, you could never trust them. There is a lot to be said for English guys actually. Apart from that it was an amazing night and I crawled back to the hostel at 2.00pm the next day. Hard core or what!

I really like football, even though I don't get to watch it enough (I'm a Man United supporter, if anyone is interested). Being in South America I really wanted to go and watch a match, because for once I did agree with Alejandro, they are the best at football. Ale had agreed to take me to a River Plate game on the Sunday, but that was before he was grumpy, tired and hungover from his house party.
"Woman, why are you making me take you to a football match, why can't you go on your own"?
" Because you said you would take me, and no I will not go on my own, I'm a lady, so shut up"!
We carried on arguing all the way to the match. The game itself was amazing. We were squashed into the standing area, like sardines, but I didn't care. The atmosphere was electric. The drums, the chanting, the dancing, I loved it. River lost 2-0 to all boys. It was a big upset, but on the bright side I learnt lots of swear words in Spanish that evening.

I could of quite happily of stayed in Bueno Aires for ever. I fell in love with the place and the people, even the men, but I had to go. The destination of Rio was out there still waiting, patiently like it had for nearly five months. I couldn't keep it waiting any longer.

BIKES AND WINES

It's best sometimes not imagine places in your head before you get to them, as it can often lead to disappointment. This was the case when I arrived in Mendoza. I had visioned a small town nestled between vin yards with quaint shops and cafes, some peasant farmers working their fields in the distance, and cows, yes lots of cows. Well maybe if I had actually done some proper reading on the place I might have actually realised that I was turning up to a city that is Argentina's fourth largest, with a population of just under a million! Maybe then the motorway that encircled the city, the tons of ugly modern concrete buildings, the mass of cars and big advertising billboards might not have come, as such a shock! My little ideal imagine of Mendoza was shattered into tiny pieces.

I was now traveling with Maria a French girl I had met in the cool hostel in Tilcara and joined up with in Salta. Maria is one of those truly nice people you meet in life. She is always happy and loves everyone and everything and it's impossible not to adore her. I did think she must be on something at first as I didn't see how it was possible to be so happy all the time, as it's beyond me, but no, she is just naturally like this. Even on the 18 hour bus journey where we were tired and uncomfortable she still managed to be upbeat and chatty in contrast to my grumpiness. Though as we arrived in Mendoza even Maria expressed her deep disappointment, though she did so, still with a smile.

Mendoza is know as the wine capital of Argentina, so me and Maria decided to go on a wine tasting tour, as it was a must in Mendoza, besides, we told ourselves it would be our lovely rural vision when we got out of the city and into the vin yards? WRONG! Our taxi dropped us off at our tour office, which was not a rural vision, but a building, with lots of other buildings by it, at the side of a busy road. Dam it! I want my rural vision!

We had opted on doing the wine tour on bikes as this means you can get around and have a drink. Now those of you who know me well, will probably thinking the idea of me, bikes and wine, aren't a great combination. There were a few instances in the past where these things combined, did have a few dramas, the worst being the time, when I hit a BMW and went over the bonnet. Yes it was parked at the time and stationary! Hello people, that's in the past. I have just survived biking the worlds most dangerous road, so I would say me and bikes are good now.
We set off on our journey of 24km round trip to our first winery. The roads were busy, the scenery ugly and the weather was crap (I'm selling it to you aren't I)? The other problem was the men! What is it with Argentinean men; have they never seen two women on bikes before? Well it seemed that way as we got beeped, perved at, shouted at in words in Spanish I could not understand (but I think they were dirty) and they did that sucking their gums thing again. Never thought I'd say this, but give me British builders any day. We arrived at our first winery cold, dusty and harassed. Thank God for wine, that's what I say, as everything seems good as long as you have wine. By the time we had finished our second winery and 8th different wine, Maria confessed that you felt quite drunk. This worried me, as it hadn't even touch the sides with me. Does this mean I have a drink problem? Oh no I forgot: I'm British!
After more wine, some chocolate and jam testing! We arrived back in one piece. Not the dream vision I had of Mendoza, but a good day all the same, which was made even better by coming back to our hostel to find it full of young hot Argentinean climbers. I didn't know where to look. I guess I did get a lovely vision of Mendoza in the end. Heaven. I've decided to take another detour into Chile again, because I loved it so much last time. Next stop Valparaiso.

HOLY

I can't say I'm a religious person. I only go to church for Christenings, weddings, funerals or Christmas eve when my mother decides she wants to feel really festive and drags all to sing carols at the local one; but even she, hasn't done that in a while. All that said I wouldn't say I'm an atheist. I like to believe that everyone I have ever loved and lost has gone to a better place and there is something after this life; it makes it easier to deal with their loss. What this place might be; I don't know?

I actually find religion quite fascinating (am I allowed to say that with out looking like a complete bible basher)? Especially the Catholic religion. I know it's a religion full of self flagellation, guilt, tortured looking statues and kiddy fiddling priests, but it appeals to my morbid side. Anyway I always wanted to be a Catholic as a child, as I liked the thought of going into a box and confessing all my sins to a priest (though these days I don't think there would be enough hell Marys to justify my wrong doings)?

With no cadburys chocolate Easter eggs to stuff my face with this year, I needed something else to get me in the Easter spirit. So me, Eva and Tanja, headed from Chile to the hills of northern Argentina to a little town call Tilcara, which is well know in South America for it's Easter celebrations. Now I have traveled a lot and in that time I have stayed in many hostels. Some good, some bad, but the hostel I have stayed in here, in Tilcara, I think has to be my favourite ever! Why? Well it's not like a hostel. It's more like staying at your friends house, and you have got all your mates there as well and all you do is chillax, chat and drink lots of good wine. The owners, two young guys from Buenos Aires are so laid back, if they were anymore so, they would be dead. Sounds like my heaven. Well actually it is, that's why I have stayed there nearly a week instead of the two days I thought, I was only going to do.

Now I have been traveling for 4 months and I haven't met many females traveling on their own. I thought I was the only one at times Well I've now realised the reason for this is because they all seem to be holed up in Casa Los Molles (thats the name of my hostel in Tilcara). Yes the place just seems to be full of lone women travellers! In fact Carly's tip of the day for guys is to get your ass there as you are out numbered 8 to 1, by women! The really good thing is I have made some really good friends here too. There is Lucy Robinson, who is also a fellow blogger, though in a much better league as she is a blogger an Marie Claires website, in fact I have a mention in her latest post (famous or what)! She is also a novelist and is out here writing her second novel, I find her very inspirational. Then there is Holly another Brit, who at 21 gives me back my faith in the young of England after it was smashed by the pea heads. Finally there is Anna from Germany who learnt English in Sunderland and now speaks with a Geordie, German accent which I think is great. Together we make a good group and don't think the small town of Tilcara know what's hit it with when Los rubia gringas walk around.

We took over the dorm and it would have been completely womanised if it hadn't been for the middle aged Spanish man that occupied one of the bunks. I was a bit disgusted by him at first as he snored a lot and didn't come home till the early hours of the morning. For a man of his age, me and Rosie automatically thought he must being going to some brothels or something. It turns out he's also a writer and writes to the early hours of the morning. It's funny that I still keep referring to the guy that could be Spains leading novelist, as the man that woke me from my sleep because he farted so loudly ( four bloody times: So WRONG)!

So let's get back to the reason why we were in Tilcara: Easter! We arrived in time for the Wednesday which we heard was the biggest parade of the weeks proceedings, with all the villagers marching down from the mountains; marching down with 3000 panpipes that is, as Rosie informed us. Now this wouldn't be a problem if Tanja hadn't told us the day before, that the worst sound in the world to her, was the sound of PANPIPES. You should of seen her face drop. At first I couldn't really see what Tanja's problem was, with pan pipes, but after sitting on a hill for three hours listening to hundreds going by, giving out the most awful unrhythmic sound ever, I agreed with her entirely.

The next night was the procession of the virgin and yes, that's right more bloody PANPIPES. Still, I decided to brave it, as I don't think it's a real Easter parade, with out a good virgin. I also got on everyones nerves a lot by singing like a Virgin by Madonna, which probably wasn't very appropriate at all.

The celebrations continued through out the rest of Easter, which basically meant panpipes 24/7. I did start to wonder how they all kept going and if any of them actually died due to loss of breath. In fact I did google to see if I could find out how many people died of Panpipe fatalities in south America a year, but didn't have any luck, so if anyone knows I would be very interested to know.

Im now traveling on my own again, which seems strange after nearly a month with Tanja and Eva and having the most amazing week in Tilcara with the girls, but once again I knew the rules: You always have to say goodbye. Actually this time it's not goodbye. I know I have made some real friends and I will see them again in this life. Anyway it's time to start a new chapter. This one will be called the final leg. Next stop Mendoza, after a 18 HOUR bus journey!

OBSERVATIONS

* Argentineans are so chilled, they even take their dogs to bars with them. You can be watching a band and there are just dogs everywhere. Love it!

* I'm sick of being chatted up by horny middle aged Latino America men. All the time; sat at dinner; walking in the street and on the bus. I know I'm in the next age bracket these days but if I'm going to be chatted up, can it be by someone that's hot and not old enough to be my dad!

* I've finally found a south American food I love. EMPANADAS! I'm addicted!

* I'm the clumsiest person alive! Yesterday I managed to punch some poor Argentinean taxi driver in the nose as I put my backpack on, and busted it. Its a horrible feeling standing there while some guy is holding his nose and you think you have broke it. Luckily I didn't, it was just a bit bruised! I gave him a big tip.

* A lot of South Americans seem to have some terrible face piercings.

* I've actually got a lot on my mind at the moment, but even with that, the other day in Tilcara I was sat there and realised I was the happiest I have been in along time. Nothing else really matters after that. It's a good feeling.

* I got in trouble again by being the animal lover that I am, by letting the hostel's cat Lucca into the dormitory, and let him sleep on my bed. It appears most of the girls are allergic. There was a lot if sneezing going on. Oophs!

MY NEW BEST FRIEND

It seems I have made a new Spanish best friend. Her name is Vogue Latino América. I do believe she is the most helpful and interesting best friend I have made in a while as she has helped no end with my Spanish.
When I was with Martin, he told me the best way to learn a language was to read, and that I needed to get reading Spanish. Me being me, and biting off more than I can chew, AGAIN, told him I was going to read a Gabriel Garcia Marquez book (slightly ambitious, don't you think)? Since then I have been hunting round South America for one, only finding one in Peru brand new, which was way to expensive and I told myself I wasn't going to pay that amount (I'm on a budget don't you know)! All I have found since are versions in English, and last time I checked I could read English pretty well! Hence my learning Spanish through reading had come to a bit of a standstill, until now! I'm now hiding away in the most chilled hostel in the world in a little village called Tilcara in the north of Argentina. There is not a lot to do here apart from relax, so I saw it as a good opportunity to get out my Spanish books and start learning again. The only problem is, I keep getting easily distracted, so instead of using google translate on my phone, I seem to find myself logged onto facebook, checking my emails, or browsing the Top Shop website for the latest fashions (even though I have told everyone whilst I have been traveling I haven't once; I'm a big liar: I miss you Top Shop; I miss fashion)!
With my love of fashion in mind you should of seen my face, when I came across a recent edition of Vogue Latino América! Bingo! I haven't stopped reading it all day. I've been tapping away on google translator like there is no tomorrow. I now can tell you all the words in Spanish for pattern, lace, embroidery, pleating and off the shoulder neckline! Heaven. Thanks Vogue Latino América, your the best friend a girl can have.