A LITTLE LESSON ABOUT URUGUAY

"Where are you?"
I'm skyping my sister one afternoon in Nico's room hiding from the midday sun, when she asks this question.
"Uruguay" I reply.
"Where the Hell is that?" She responds. As my sister thought that Africa was a country, her geography is not the best, but it turns out when I talk about Uruguay not many people know much about it at all. So I am now going to give a little lesson on this country that I have fallen in love with.

FACTS:

POPULATION: 3.5 million (Really small for south America).

AREA: At 176.125sq km Uruguay is the second smallest country in South America after Suriname

LOCATION: Uruguay is between the South of Brazil and the North East of Argentina.

CAPITAL: Montevideo. Almost half the population of the country live in the Capital.

* Most of the low-lying landscape (three-quarters of the country) is grassland, ideal for cattle and sheep raising.

* Uruguay is often called the Switzerland of South America for a stable democracy and social benefits such as free education.

* Although not a maritime nation, Uruguay is surrounded on three sides by water. Three rivers (the Río de la Plata, one of the widest rivers in the world; the Río Uruguay; and the Río Yaguarón), a lake (Laguna Merín), and the Atlantic Ocean border the country. The main port and capital city of Montevideo, founded in 1726, is situated on strategic trade routes.

* Even the name of Uruguay, first applied to the Río Uruguay, has river-related origins. Its etymology derives from either uruguä, a Guaraní Indian word meaning a species of mussel, thus Río Uruguay, "the river of shellfish"; or the Guaraní word components uru (a kind of bird that lived near the river); gua ("to proceed from"); and y ("water").


* I don't think there is a country that the British haven't invaded and yes that goes for Uruguay as well.  Between 1806 and 1807 the British invaded and took control of areas of the Rio de la Plata, even capturing Montevideo for several months from the Spanish.  This was because of the Napoleonic wars as Spain was an ally to France.  I wonder how different Uruguay would be today if the British had kept control?  Apparently there are still buildings left over from the British times.  Nico was going to show them to me but they were in a very dangerous area.

*During the 1970's Uruguay fell under a military dictatorship. According to Amnesty International, a private human rights organisation, under the military regime Uruguay had the world's highest per capita ratio of political prisoners: one in every 500 citizens. By 1980 many citizens had been detained and tortured at some point, and one in every 500 had received a sentence of six years or longer. Between 300,000 and 400,000 Uruguayans went into exile.

* It is probably right to say that Uruguay has been traditionally a more liberal country than the rest of the region. Historically, Uruguay has been a liberal country with a solid track record of reform.

It declared itself a secular state in 1917.
In 1913, it became the first in the region to grant divorces to women who requested them. In 1927, it introduced the vote for women.  This tradition continues today, With Uruguay being one of the first countries in South America to legalise same sex marriages, and abortions. On 10 December 2013, Uruguay became the first country in the world to legalise the sale, cultivation, and distribution of cannabis.

* Uruguay probably has the coolest president in the world. President José Mujica of Uruguay, is a 78-year-old former Marxist guerrilla who spent 14 years in prison, mostly in solitary confinement down a well. He lives simply and rejects the perks of the presidency. Mujica has refused to live at the Presidential Palace or have a motorcade. He lives in a one-bedroom house on his wife’s farm and drives a 1987 Volkswagen. “There have been years when I would have been happy just to have a mattress,” said Mujica, referring to his time in prison. He donates over 90% of his $12,000/month salary to charity so he makes the same as the average citizen in Uruguay. When called “the poorest president in the world,” Mujica says he is not poor. “A poor person is not someone who has little but one who needs infinitely more, and more and more. I don’t live in poverty, I live in simplicity. There’s very little that I need to live.” He also has an adorable three-legged dog, Manuela! Manuela lost a foot when Mujica accidentally ran over it with a tractor. Since then, Mujica and Manuela have been almost inseparable.

*And lastly Alfajor's!  Alfajors are the traditional biscuit of the area and I had a complete addiction to them.  If only you could get them in England, my life would be complete.  The best is the Milka Dulce de Leche ones. God! I miss them!!!!!

SPANGLISH!

It wasn't part of the plan. I was meant to be in Salvador sipping on cocktails and then trying navigate myself through the tropical jungles of the Amazon all the way to Peru, with plenty of scandalous stories I picked up on the way. Instead I find myself living in not the prettiest surburban area of Montevideo, with guy I have only know a couple of weeks, his mother and dog which is blind in one eye. Definitely not part if the plan. Once BB had gone, it was just me on my own. As I have travelled more on my own than with companions this didn't bother me. What did bother me was I missed Nico (Robert Pattison). After I had left the first time we had still emailed each other every day, and the longer it went on the more I wanted to go back to him. So that's what I did. I gave up the wonders of the Brazilian Amazon and the delights of Salvador for a man!

Now Montevideo wouldn't have been my top spot to go back to in Uruguay if it hadn't been for Nico. In fact my friend Lauren called it "The Swindon of South America!" but I think she was being biased as she had her bag stolen with everything in it, while traveling there. Though I had to admit it was not a terribly exciting city. The first week living back with Nico, his mother and the dog, didn't go too well. He had warned me he had to go to work, like normal people do. "No problem" I thought to myself "I can amuse myself!" The problem was I didn't. There are very few tourist attractions in Montevideo and I had seen what few there was to see on my last visit. I had no routine there or any idea what the locals did, so I ended up staying in all day on the internet, reading or writing. By the time Nico got home from work which was late, I was like caged animal. I was frustrated! I had not come travelling to stayed locked up in a house all day. I'm an Independent person who likes to do her own thing, but I felt trapped and totally reliant on Nico for everything. I took my frustrations out on Nico and arguments ensued. I thought I had made a huge mistake by coming back. "Maybe I should have run off to Havana?" I thought to myself. By the end of the week I was ready to leave and put it down as a bad experience.
"You haven't really tried or made an effort Carly!" Said Nico as I told him I was planning to hit the road again. Now I'm selfish, a bit headstrong, and stubborn but I am the first to put my hand up when I'm wrong. I thought about it! He was right, "I hadn't made an effort!" It was time to try, so I cancelled my plans. "Right!" I thought "It's time to go back to Spanish school!"

When I first came to South America I didn't speak a word a Spanish apart from the words "Gracias" and "Si" which any idiot knows? Everyone seemed shocked that I was going traveling to South America on my own and didn't speak any Spanish apart from me. Well that was until I landed in San Jose and spent over an hour in a taxi being lost because the taxi driver spoke no English and it seemed like no one else did either. Frustrating wasn't the word! So I booked myself into a two week intensive course in Costa Rica. Now I remember language classes at school; Mr Ellis stood at the front of the class shouting at us and writing stuff on the blackboard which we had to repeat like lemmings. Occasionally he would say something to me which I would look like a rabbit in the head lights as I hadn't a clue what he was saying and would mumble back something in half German and half English which made no sense at all and the rest of the class would laugh resulting in me turning red. This is how I remembered language classes. I didn't like them and I wasn't a natural. So it was kind of a big deal for me when I decided to go back to the class room to learn Spanish. From the moment I entered the room, the rabbit in the head lights look returned to me again but this time it was worse as the teacher never spoke any English. It was 2 weeks of Hell and feeling completely stupid. I wanted to cry most of the time and at the end of it I felt I hadn't learnt a thing, but slowly and surely on my travels things started to sink in, to the point I could get by which was a real achievement for me. Getting by was fine, but I wanted to be better, especially when Nico's mother didn't speak any English and I loved her so much I wanted to communicate with her more. Also Nico's father didn't really speak much English either as I found out the first time I met him. It was late one night and Nico had just got in from work. He didn't look happy. "My father wants to meet you" he said with displeasure. Nico and his Father don't seem to have the greatest of relationships and he didn't seem keen on me meeting him, but he relented for a easy life. We are sat at the dinning table in his fathers house eating empanadas. It all feels very formal. Nico sits like a sulky teenager peeling the coke label from a bottle not looking at anyone, while his father tries to speak to me in very bad English. It's all rather painful. We try speaking Spanish. I can't understand everything and then Nico speaks up with a translation. "He says he likes homosexuals!" I shoot Nico a look, as I know that's not what his father said and he's taking the piss. He just sits there still peeling the label but this time with a smirk on his face like a naughty child. I want to kill him. He's really not helping. As the awkward conversation continues Nico bursts in with another translation.
"He says he was kidnapped by UFO's and...." Before he can go any further I interrupt him.
"Nico that's not what he said! Will you stop it!" His father looks on a bit confused by it all and I want to be angry at Nico, but all I'm trying to do is not laugh as this whole situation is just silly. I tell him he should never become a translator, as he would be a nightmare. I guess this was just another reason to add to the list to improve my Spanish.

The first day I was nervous as I walked into the Spanish school building. I had to have an assessment to see what level my Spanish was at. One on one with a teacher for 3 hours, I was right to be nervous, but as she started firing questions at me in Spanish, instead of the wide eyed rabbit look that usually appeared, I sat calmly and answered the questions. I could understand her! What the Hell! Apparently my Spanish was OK! The next day I was put into a group lesson. I was warned before hand that I might be a little too advanced for the rest of the group. "What! Me too advanced for a Spanish lesson. Is this some kind of joke" I think "What are the rest of the class like?"
It turns out my new fellow class mates (all 3 of them) have a combined age of 100,000! Ok a little bit over the top, but they are old! Like really old! Ken and Liz a pensioner couple from Washington D.C have come to Spanish school not to learn Spanish, like you think most people would do when attending Spanish school but more for a social. I learn all about Ken and Liz's life: their vacations; their family; what they like for breakfast and what their political views are. This is all done in English with not even the slightest effort of trying to speak in Spanish. Marie my third class is a retired nurse from a Oklahoma. She is so nervous and shy its hard to understand her English never mind her Spanish, which is pretty bad. The three of them sit chatting away for hours in English while I try to smile and pretend it's ok through gritted teeth.
"How was your class today?" asks Nico when he gets home from work. "Terrible" I moan "I'm in a class with Donde Esta Monsters!"
What is a Donde Esta Monster, you ask? It's a phrase me and Nico coined to describe people that speak Spanish in a bad accent. It derives from the time I was in a supermarket in Costa Rica and over heard an America couple with the thickest Brooklyn accent shouting "Donde esta la narañja orange juice!" I remember being in stitches with laugher in the supermarket aisle. I would recall the tale to Nico one night re-inacting with my best Brooklyn accent. We both laughed and couldn't stop saying the sentence over and over again, laughing each time like children. This is how we came up with the term "The Donde Esta Monster!"
I lasted one more day in that class until my teacher said I was way to advanced and was moved to tuition on my own. I was happy at first but was going to miss the "Donde Esta Monsters", as they were highly entertaining. I'd come a long way from Mr Ellis's class room.

The days came and went. I got myself into a little routine. I would catch the bus to school everyday. I learnt which numbers I could take. I learnt which stops to get off at. I would buy a alfajor from the same shop on the way to school to eat on my break. I would wander the city sometimes after class trying to get my bearings of the city. Later I would sit in the garden and do my homework while sneaking a class of wine under the table at the same time, as Latin people don't drink much and I started to think Nico's mother thought I drank too much as I would have a glass of wine most nights. It was too hard trying to explain that English people drink all the time but where not alcoholics, in Spanish. Sometimes I would play with Mcshooney and wait until Nico got home. He would get home always give me a kiss, put his music on, roll a cigarette and we would just lay there hugging saying nothing until it was time to eat. It was one night, that I had a relisation. We were sat eating pasta at the table. Paco de Lucia the famous Spanish guitarist had died that day. Nico was a big fan and so was playing Tres Aguas, Paco de Lucia's most famous song. Thersita would come out and offer us more homemade cake and McShooney would sit loyally by us while we ate, waiting for scraps you might throw his way. It was at this moment in the little city of Montevideo; living with a guy I had met by sheer chance; with his mother; his dog with one blind eye; wearing no make up; no fancy clothes; living just the simple life; I realised I was truly happy. It was a wonderful feeling.

It was always lingering in the back ground that I would have to leave eventually. At times I told myself I didn't have to. "I could find a job here. There is always work for English speakers?" but in reality I knew I had to go. I had been fine until we reached the airport, as I had put my departure completely to the back of my mind, but when it came to say goodbye the tears started to flow from my eyes. He said he would come to London, that we would see each other again. I wanted it to be so, but deep down inside I knew the reality of it all. We were from completely different lives and cultures on the other side of the world from each other. This is going to sound crazy but I'm going to say it anyway. The first time I stayed at Nico's I left my hair band there. When I returned the second time I saw he was wearing it around his wrist. He told me he wore so that I was always with him and he could always remember me. I would look at that band on his wrist everyday and everyday it would get thinner. I started to see it as representing us; that when it broke so would we. It was like looking at sand going through an hour glass. I knew our time was running out. I cried at that airport because I knew I was never going to see him again. I cried because I knew he was never going to come to London. I cried because I knew we had no future. Now all these months later I know this to be true. I remember trying to grab my last glances of him as he went down the escalator and finally out of view. I think after I left that hair band finally broke and with it so did we.
Next stop Lima, Peru!

MONTEVIDEO: ROBERT PATTISON

I'm sat having breakfast in the hippie commune in Punta del Diablo.  Me and Prue are feeling kind of fresh as we managed to go to sleep at the all so reasonable time of before 1am instead of 5am.  When I say sleep I'm using that term loosely as its very hard to get any sleep when you have a full live band playing directly below your room and then dance music after that until the early hours.  There was also some girl screaming like some one had been murdered at God knows what time, and then a stampede of people running to see what was going on.  For all I know some one could of been murdered' but by then I was in such a foul mood to really even care.  So yes! I was sort of feeling fresh that morning? While trying to eat some porridge oats with milk out of a mug (Yes! This is my breakfast!), one of the Uruguayan guys stomps up to me.  Its Martin.  Me and Prue are not his greatest fan, as one of the first things he said to us when we were introduced was that he "Hated English people!" (He sure know how to make a first good impression)?????  He also has a permanent scowl on his face, which makes me want to hit it a lot.  Me and Prue refer to him as "A Punk!"
"Hey! What's your Face Book name?" he abruptly says.  "And Good Morning to you Martin! Yes I'm find thanks!" I think to myself while looking at him and wanting to hit him again!
"Why?" I ask
"My friend wants to find you on Face Book!" he replies still in the same manner.
"Which friend?"
"My friend Nico!" he responds.  I look at him blank.
"The Croatian!" He continues.  I still look blank.
"The guy you where hanging out with the other night!" Something clicks in my head.
"Oh you mean Robert Pattison?" I say.
He looks blank for a minute and then begrudgingly says "Yes Robert Pattison!"
"Sorry I was really drunk! I actually don't remember his real name!" I say, thinking "How bad am I?"

A day or so later I go to an Internet cafe to check my emails and Face book.  There is a Face book request off a guy called Nicolas with unpronounceable surname.  I check his pictures.  It's Robert Pattison, though I don't think he actually looks like Robert Pattison, but the name has stuck now, and is in my head.  I except his friend request and think nothing more of it, as I only met him one night and he left early the next day. We had no Internet in Diablo unless we went to a cyber cafe, but we were far too busy doing things like getting a tan and drinking rum and coke, so we never really checked the Internet, which was actually quite nice for a couple of days.  We spent a night in Montevideo and the next day decided to get the bus and the ferry back to Buenos Aires.
"Carly! The bus has Wi-Fi" Said Prue as we sat there on another journey.
I decided to check my emails, and there it was, a very long message from Robert Pattison staying how much he had enjoyed meeting me, wanted to see me again and if I was in Montevideo I could stay with him and he would show me around.  "Shit!" I thought "Just typical! I'm on a bloody bus leaving Montevideo!" I wrote back and said I was leaving Uruguay for Buenos Aires and that I was sorry.  Like most stories in my life, it usually ends there, but this time it didn't.  Robert Pattison, would still write to me; everyday; lots of times in a day, and I to him.  To be honest I was a bit thrown at first.  You see in England, actually most men in the western world, you get a text message or face book response maybe three days after you have sent them something.  Well hey!  They don't want to seem too keen, as you might want to marry them and have their kids or something! God forbid!  This was a complete but refreshing change.  You say something: You get a response!  You ask something: you get a response! And guess what? I don't want to marry him or have his kids.  Amazing!  I think this is called "A normal conversation!" Robert Pattison was the first guy in a long time that was open.  He showed no cowardice or fear, or played any games.
I quoted at the beginning of this trip to South America a quote from Mark Twain.  I still stand by that quote:

"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than by the ones you did do."

So with that quote in my head, at the end of the week with the girls in Buenos Aires, I decided not to go Iguazu falls with them (I'd been before anyway) and packed my bag and returned to Montevideo.

I arrive at night.  I'm wondering if I will recognise him?  What if he isn't as I remembered?  What if he wasn't there? My bus was late! He might not be? I would just be stuck in a bus station in Montevideo on my own with no where to go.  I entered the bus station feeling a bit scared as I searched the faces of the crowd and there he was, and then everything felt OK.  I went to hug him and I instantly could tell he was shy.  He was quiet and wouldn't look me in the eye. I made most of the conversation, talking about lots of rubbish, like I normally do, as we took a taxi back to his house.  I was nervous too. Not only about meeting him but I had to meet his mother too!  Yes! His mother! You see Robert Pattison mum lives in his house too! I'd  been quite shocked when he first told me and had second thoughts about the visit, but it seems that most people live with their parents in Uruguay as the cost of living far out ways the wages.  I had in my head visions of some big Latin woman with huge breasts and a miserable face who would hate me from the minute she meet me because I was a Gringa and was with her son.  The reality couldn't have been more different.  Robert Pattison had told me his mother was cool (He calls her the gypsy woman) and he was right. Teresita, (Her name) which means little Theresa and couldn't be more fitting.  She was a small petite woman with big dark eyes  and a smile that could light up a room.  Even though she couldn't speak a word of English I instantly warmed to her.  She was friendly and warm and would bend over backwards for you.  She chatted constantly at me and I tried hard to understand what she was saying, of which most went over my head.
The other member of the family that I had to meet was the dog: McShooney!  Actually he wasn't called McShooney.  He had no name!  Mcshooney was a black mixed Labrador, who was blind in one eye.  Robert Pattison had found him in the street a couple of years ago and so had taken the stray home and he had been with them ever since.
"What do mean he has no name?" I asked shocked!
"No he doesn't" He says calmly smoking a cigarette "We just call him the dog!"
"Then why did you refer to him in an email to me as McShawney?"
"Oh! I just said that because it was like an English version of the noise he makes in Spanish."
I'm stood there confused now.  "Does the dog have a name or not? Well I'm just going to call him McShawney from now on because every one needs a name even a dog" I say.
McShawney is later modified to McShooney as that is how it sounds when Robert Pattison says it in his Latin accent.  So that is how a dog with no name became to be know as McShooney!

The more I get to know Robert Pattison the more I get to like him.  He is slightly crazy like me.  He is slightly eccentric like me and he is slightly geeky like me.  I find him very intelligent.  His English is amazing and there isn't anything he doesn't know about an computer.  He also has a great love of music too and we sit for hours on end listening to music  and exchanging notes.  Sometimes he whacks out the guitar as well of which he also good at playing.  I am quite happy in his company and am glad that I came back to Montevideo.

Another thing that Robert Pattison likes, like most South Americans is Football.  It is a religion over here, and they are fanatical about it, and I was about see, how fanatical. Robert Pattison was keen for me to watch his favourite team play: Peñerol, Uruguay's national champions. As I'm quite a keen football fan too, we arranged to go to a match one night against their biggest rivals Nacional.
"I got us tickets for the real supporters area behind the goal.  It is the best place to be" Robert Pattison told me.
As we were  entering the stadium (Which by the way held the first ever world cup final) Robert Pattison turns to me and says "Keep close to me!  There are some very bad and crazy people at these matches do not loose me." I look at him and think he is being over protective, I soon see he is not.  We walk up the steps to the inside of the stadium.  Its a mass of grey concrete and all I can hear is drums.  As we walk further up the stairs the drums get louder and at the top there is massive group of aggressive looking men, most them bare chested with tattoos all over them. They remind me of images I have seen of brutal Mexican gangs. They are cheering and shouting and in the centre of it all, men bang on drums like warriors going to war.  As a person that doesn't like admitting to ever being scared, at this moment I am petrified! I hold Robert Pattisons hand tight, as we try to find our way through the crowd, scared that if I let go I will not make it out.  We eventually find are way to part of the stand away from the central chaos and I can breath again.   We then wait for the match to begin.  What followed was every thing I expected from a South American football match and much more.  Peñerol and Nacional  hate each other, I mean really hate each other.  The teams come out to boos and hisses from each opposing sides fans.  Its at this point, that a flurry of fireworks and streamers (Probably toilet roll I think?) are let off and thrown and the stands of fans becomes a mass of light, music, cheers and movement and a beautiful sight to behold.  The match was kind of slow and I was finding what was going on off the pitch more interesting, like for example the man in front of us smoking the biggest joint you have ever seen, that I felt I was getting stoned from just by smelling it. There was also the vast array of bad tattoos and hair styles, which I couldn't help but stare at.  I mean it's 2014, who the Hell in their right mind thinks a permed mullet is OK? Robert Pattison has a little laugh to himself now and again as he listens the fans chant songs to the Nacional fans.  Now I really couldn't understand any of them apart from the fact that they wanted to do something bad to the Nacional's players mothers.  Hmmmm? The second half gets more interesting as Peñerol concede a penalty against Nacional.  This causes a bit of tension on the pitch as well as off it.  One of the players kicks or punches the an opposition player.  I'm not sure who started it as I'm too busy looking at a guy with a spikey mullet when the incident occurs.  From there on in things kind of escalate.  There is a lot of nose to nose shouting at one another and arm waving, until some one karate kicks someone and the whole sub bench joins in along with the management.  This is where the riot police come in to separate the two teams.  In the mean time the fans have climbed the barriers and are starting to try and climb the metal fortress that surrounds the pitch and after that they have to clear the moat. Yes you read right! The moat!  Football matches in South America is like full on warfare, so castle like defences are you used!  This goes on for some time, to the point that I feel the match will be stopped, but eventually they kiss and make up like good children and it continues.  The final result:
Peñerol: 0                           Naccional: 1
Did I enjoy it? Yes!  Warfare football is far more entertaining than the Premiere league any day.

Check out the match on this video clip.



After a week I had to go.  I had already stayed longer than I should of and I had to catch up with my friends.  So I sadly said goodbye to Teresita with the amazing smile and McShooney the dog with one blind eye.  Most of all I hated to say goodbye to Robert Pattison.  He came and saw me off to the bus station and was just as quiet as when I arrived there a week before, but this time it was different.  We were both sad.  It is never easy to say goodbye to anyone, but I feel like I spend most of life saying it to people, never to see them again.  I didn't want it this time.  I have grown so tired of it, but I had to get on the bus and so once again, it was goodbye.  Goodbye is part of being a traveller, but as I keep saying it is better to regret the things you have done than the things you haven't.  No regrets.  By the way, Robert Pattisons real name? Nico or Nicholas as his mother calls him.
Next stop Brazil!

URUGUAY:ACT YOUR AGE!

I'm so loving being 29 again! Really I am. It's so much better the second time round. I'm mean I'm so much more in control and confident and I'm not having a break down because my boyfriend has left me for another woman. Yes! It's so much better. OK, I know what your thinking! "Carly your not 29, your 34!" Well yes I am 34, but I'm in Uruguay, and in Urugauy I'm 29! Why? Well it seems that me and Prue have been reverting back to our youth. Because? Well the story goes a little something like this.

Once upon a time there were two girls called Carly and Prue, who lived in London, but who had become tired working all the hours God sent and dating wankers so they decided to leave it all behind and go on a adventure to South America. After 14 hours worth of flights with Iberia (The easy Jet of long haul: God Dam awful!) they arrived in Latin America. They decided to head straight to beach, so got a ferry to Uruguay. They get to Montevideo and decide to get a bus to La Paloma. The bus is full. So Carly thinks of some others names she has read and the first thing she can think of is Punta del Diablo. The next thing they know, they are standing at the bus staton in Puta del diablo with there bags, thinking "Where the Hell are we?" Luckily some guys come in their car and tell them they work for a hostel and drive them there, and this is kind of the way it all started.
We arrive at the hostel but it's more like some big house where the owner has his friends stay over. It's full of cats, dogs, people passed out on sofas and some guy skateboarding around. It's like a Hippie commune.
"We will take it" we reply.
"OK" says the guy "So there is a bar downstairs and we have bands every night. They usually start at 1am."
1am! Me and Prue look at each other. I guest there is no rest for the wicked.
We decide to explore the town which is a lot bigger than we think. It becomes quite clear that we are the only Gringos in town, which seems quite scary as we will have to inflict our bad Spanish on people. Another thing that is also clear is that everyone seems quite young and beautiful here. The
Latin's as a race, are really quite stunning. Their dark tans and thick black hair make us Anglo Saxons look very ugly in comparison. It's later that night when still surrounded by the beautiful young people, that Prue turns to me and says "I think we should lie about our age a little bit, what do you think?" Now the last time I think I lied about my age was when I was 16 and trying to be 18 so I could get into Mr Smiths nightclub in Warrington (Those were the days)? I'm always saying now, how happy I am in my thirties, why should I lie about my age. It shouldn't really matter! Then second thoughts!
"OK" I reply "What do you think we can get away with?"
"29?"
"29 is good for me?"
"So we are both agreed if anyone asks how old we are, we are both 29" says Prue.
"Deal!"
So that's how I became 29 again.

It wasn't actually that bad being the only Gringas in town as we seem quite a novelty and get lots of attention. Well male attention that is. I once asked a Latin guy why they give western women so much attention when the Latin women were far more beautiful than us.
"Because you are exotic to us" was his response.
"I'm from Warrington! There is nothing exotic about that!" Was my response.
We seem to be surrounded by guys. New men keep appearing and introducing themselves to us. There are two in particular that stick to us, and keep giving us red wine to drink straight from the bottle. They are pretty drunk and so are we, so it kind of works. We can't remember there actual names, so we call them Robert Pattison and Gerald Butler as they look like them, but Latin versions
and only really Like Gerald Butler in 300 as he has the same beard. We play pool, we drink and then we sit by the hippie commune bonfire and then they ask us our age. Me and Prue look at each other.
"29" we say together.
It turns out they are both 29 too. Phew!!!!
The next thing I know we are walking hand in hand (me with Robert Pattison and Prue with Gerald Butler) up the dirt track away from the commune. Not far into that walk I find my self kissing Robert Pattison. I open my eyes and look over my shoulder. A few meters away I can see Prue doing the same with Gerald Butler. I'm on a dirt track kissing some guy I just met after drinking red wine straight from the bottle with him (Whiskey too)! I feel like I'm 18. It's at this moment it occurs to me I'm not 18. I'm not even 29! I'm 34!
"I can't do this! I have to go to bed" I say to Robert Pattison.
"Your going?" he asks a little surprised.
"Yes!" I start walking.
"Prue I'm going to bed!" I shout as I walk past her, still in the throws of a passionate kiss.
About 15 minutes after I'm tucked up in bed, Prue walks in. I guess she had the same realisation too. We giggle like school girls. It's about 5am? It's time to go to bed.
We wake the next morning a little hazy from the night before but decide to hit the beach and get started on our tans. We find Robert Pattison and Gerald Butler asleep on one of the sofas outside. There is a person on a skateboard in the kitchen. Cats and dogs on the stairs. Yes everything seems just like normal in the hippie commune. In fact we have seem to have made a few friends last night as everyone is smiling and saying hello to us. I don't remember talking to half these people never mind
their names, nor does Prue. Well that would be a good first impression night that the drunk English
girls made.

In Europe, it's totally normal to go topless. We love it. Here in South America it's a big no, no! In fact I think it's illegal in most countries here. Me and Prue find this very frustrating as there is no better way to get an even tan than getting your breasts out. It's so liberating as well. The thing in South America is, they may not want to get their breasts out but they have no problems with getting their
asses out. Nearly every woman wears a bikini bottom where the back looks like a piece of dental
floss. Basically it's all about the ass here. Me and Prue look at our modestly cut English bikini bottoms. They totally cover our asses. We feel like an old woman. Actually no, because most of the old women have their crinkly old asses on display. We feel embarrassed because we are not showing our asses! You feel weird if your not, but then the whole concept of feeling weird because you having got your ass on display is just weird too! Me and Prue decide that the only thing to do is push our bikinis up our bottoms to try and create a thong. It feels weird (that word again!)  and you feel the need to pull it back out again, only to push it back up again. I can tell you now it's a very exposing thing to walk into the sea with half your ass hanging out, even though I wouldn't think twice if it's my breasts! The traumas of bikinis in South American style hey!

Latin men! My observations of Latin men are this:
1. I'm extremely attracted to most of them.
2. They are very chauvinistic!
3. They are very arrogant.
4. They like sex a lot. I mean most men do, but Latin men: A lot!
5. I wouldn't trust one as far as you could fling one.
The next night me and Prue find ourselves with a herd of men around us again. One in particular who we call big Nancho has eyes for Prue. He's all over her. We find him good company and he's very intelligent and funny. His friends too. It's such a change from London where guys only look at you if the wasted. They are open and don't hold back. Big Nancho tries his best but doesn't get anywhere with Prue, but we like him and would like to keep hanging out with him. The next day we see him again but his attitude has totally changed towards us. Most of his friends as well. They can't really be bothered to even talk to us. It's such a change from the day before. Me and Prue are totally shocked by this total turn around in their behaviour.  I know they didn't get in to our knickers but a least they could try and be friendly to us instead of pretending we don't exist anymore.
The next night while trying to have an early night me and Prue find ourselves at the bar again as it was impossible to sleep when the band started at 1am again. We kind of thought if you can't beat them, you may as well join them. We are being ignored by the guys still. So me and Prue get talking to a young Argentinean guy. He's sweet but nothing more. Prue leaves and before I know it I am now left with a now very drunk young Argentinean guy who keeps trying to kiss me. I keep turning my face away.
"Why don't you want to kiss?" He pleads
"Because I don't fancy you and your a bit young for me." He is 23 and that's even too old for me at 29!
"Then why are you talking to me?" He responds.
"Because it's nice to talk to people. It's friendly. I can talk to a man without wanting anything. I have lots of male friends in England. I live with 3 guys in London. Do you have no female friends?"
"No!" He seems confused by this concept. I see it's completely lost on him, the thought of being friends with a woman without having anything sexual with her. Impossible! I see things are different here and for once in my life I have a moment where I miss English men. This is for me the problem with Latin men! We leave the next day. It's time to start acting our age again, what ever that is?  Next stop Buenos Aires!