City of God, Rio de Janeiro

Now there are cities, and then there are the big phat whoppers - super suburban sprawls that are sure to have everything your mind could possibly hope to conjure, & a little more. I've bounced around quite a bit in my tall taled sprouting years, and still no place is yet to hold me. It's only now I feel I've hit the jackpot. The coolest city on the fucking planet, in possibly the most hippest country in the western hemisphere!! There are not many places that spark up an emotional imaginative presence more than Rio de Janeiro; its reputation is almost mythical. How wrong I was thinking an entire year in Latin America was enough...I still have a whole monster sized continent left to explore!! A true beauty - hardly the beast. Of what little I've seen thus far, Brazil is coming on as my most unexpected revelation to date; and I've began to fret about what I might now miss out on. There's not much left to do but make the most of it.

Rio de Janeiro from Christ the Redeemer

Brazilians say: that God created the world in six days, and the seventh he devoted to Rio. On first inspection, it can't be far off the truth. After an agonisingly long 24 hour bus ride all the way from Foz do Iguaçu, we finally pulled into the mega city itself. I was well over the crammed 'comfort' by that point, having spent a majority of the journey with a chunkers bulging feet near my face, on top of a constant odour drifting down the aisle from the increasingly toxic tasting baño. I'd met a couple of cool guys along the way, and once off the bus we all hopped into a taxi to split the costs till our individual accommodations. This was more like it; I felt I was back in the real South America - the one I'd been missing. Frantic traffic raced down the narrow streets like an inner city race track; homeless bums hauled their mattresses from one retreat to another; and the heat outside cut through the taxis air conditioner so much as to deem it senseless. I was lost within a few minutes. What a tangled mess. Then between the high walls of another cluster of apartment blocks I noticed the undisputed symbol of the city; Christ the Redeemer, standing tall on the tippy top of Corcovado Mountain. I still couldn't believe I was actually here. We dropped two of the lads off at their lodgings in Botafogo, and continued to the second stop some five minutes further on in Copacabana. As I was stuck with the translating (of which I was completely incompetent), once the second deal was all settled I hopped back in the cab and pointed out my way...errr, much to the unexpected surprise of the driver. I'd told him we had to make three stops in total, but this obviously got lost somewhere down the line. It was only another two or three minutes down the road but of course he managed to stooge me. I got hit for another 10 reais, and then he tried to conjure up a bit more for tips. Shit mate, give it a rest. No wonder so many people come home from this continent cluelessly robbed or bankrupt.

The hostel I'd fixed up for myself was a bit of a last minute grab, but as it turned out was quite the score. This was the first time I'd had to book accommodation for the entire trip, much to my disgust - but I wasn't too keen on lugging my gear from suburb to suburb searching for a place to crash in this city. The hostel was new, so everything was sparkly; and there was a cool outside deck area to chill the night away. My first port of call was to visit the beach. Oh, how I missed the beach!! Welcome to Copacabana boulevard!! Woohooo!! I couldn't help hum the cheesy musical theme song to myself as I wandered along the bike track, watching the locals play fresco ball & work out on the free beach side gym equipment. Every one was black & jacked. The white boy here finally built up the courage to take his top off, and instantly felt like I stood out like a set of headlights on a dark night. Heck, I didn't care...THE OCEAN!!! Ahhh, how a quick dip can make all the difference. After an hour or so I toddled back to the hostel; still with quite the paranoid qualities of a new kid on the block. You hear so much about the dangers of Rio that you come to settle on them as the undisputed truth. In the next few days I'd come to discover that this city packed so full of wonders, holds no greater threat than any other large metropolitan of the greater world.

Sand Castles on Copacabana

I think I'd forgot to mention...it was AUSTRALIA DAY!!! What a place to have spent it. I didn't get a chance to listen to the countdown (the first time I've missed it in about 8 years), but we did get to party it up well & proper with a few other Australians at the hostel, as well as a holiday maker from São Paulo and a couple of Poms. The caipirinhas really do go down a treat in this climate. Such a good way to start the night. So after many drinks & an expensive pay by weight buffet, we all piled into a collectevo and made for the crazy clubs in Lapa. The streets were alive. Drums rang through the night; food vendors sold beers and all kinds of BBQ'ed meat. The first time I layed eyes on the monumental Arcos da Lapa I was well pissed; barefoot and mesmerised. I simply followed the crowd. We ended up in some quite plush looking bar, which appeared to be only playing endless swing for revellers simply wanting a few quiet drinks with friends - yet as it turned out this place was a multi-level, something for all mega-club!! Holy shit, I thought Buenos Aires held the key to chaos. This place was incredible!! Everyone seemed to know all the dances; I just followed along as best I could and then added in my own stupid hand commotions. While this Dutch guy we met was greatly succeeding working his magic on the local girls, our English mates were having a bit more of a struggle. One of them just wouldn't take no for an answer. It got a little funny, then just got ridiculous.  Then the other told me he was planning on catapulting himself onto the stage. I kind of wanted to see what would happen, yet then again I didn't want this show to have to come to a stand still. Some old swinger dressed in a white suite & hat was killing it up there!! The live band was phenomenal!! Dancers, bell shakers & percussionists ruled the minds of us all - they had us in the palm of their hand. We danced until I could dance no more, or at least until EricBanas bowels were due to give way. We cabbed it back to Copacabana and called it a night.

The Arcos da Lapa by day

I had to change hostels the following day. I was kind of spewing about that. For one I was as hungover as a bitch, and secondly my new hostel kind of sucked. You could only really fit two people within the floor space of the dorms at any one time. No room to move. And downstairs the communal area was hardly inviting. Still there were some alright people with whom I managed to mingle with. That day was filled out in practically the same way as the one before; more time spent lapping around on Copacabana beach, and sorting out my life for the next few weeks (well trying to). One thing I knew I had to do however, was to jump on board for the football game later that night. It was to be a cracker apparently - Fluminense vs Botafogo, two of the most popular clubs in Rio, and for me I can't recall ever having been to a live soccer match in my entire life. Good place to start. Once collected from the hostel we were all chauffeured through the city to some giant stadium on the outskirts of town. It was a tad unsettling at first as we were immediately engulfed by a mob of passionately boozing fans. Apparently you can't drink once inside, so they tend to make the most of it pre-game.

A street full of Fluminense fans

To our advantage, it was a good thing our group had picked the right colours for the occasion; the green, white & maroon statement of Fluminense draped from every building, and over every body. After some beers, and a bite to eat we grabbed our tickets and headed in for the kick off. It was quite the sight on entering the stadium itself. Although not so packed out as I would have liked, the cheer squad were already in full force, belting drums & waving enormous flags with an indisputable charisma. When the game got started, they only further picked up the pace. So as it goes, when you come to these sorts of events there is only really one thing you have to hope for - and that's goals. What an uproar!! 'GOOOOLLLLLLL!!!!' The call excitedly rang over the top of a frenzied pack!! Fluminense had scored first and the celebration was deafening. Even when Botafogo replied with an equaliser, the Fluminense cheer squad only seemed to provoke an ever greater racket as to counter the opposition. What an atmosphere!! It was a great experience to say the least. The forever chanting chorus of voices rattled through my brain for the remainder of that evening. I have an inclining that I'll be back for the 2014 World Cup next year!! Anyone keen to tag along??...Hell yeaaa!!

Fluminense vs Botafogo

I came up with bit of a random idea the following morning. I checked out the map, and found it feasible to walk from my hostel here in Copacabana to the top of Pão de Açucar, another one of Riosmost iconic symbols. When I mentioned it to the guys at the front desk they though I was nuts, but I was sure I'd read somewhere that it was more than possible. The walk itself didn't prove such a problem; through one of the tunnels and along some sleepy residential streets - I'd reached the base of the mountains within 45 minutes or so. Then I had to make a decision. Do I give the Pão itself a crack in its entirety, or do I climb the smaller hill and then catch the cable car the rest of the way to the top?? Not a hard decision when you're a tight ass adrenaline junkie like myself. Up we go. To begin with the walk was rather pleasant & cruisy; there were lovely views back along the coast, and many runners were using the wide track for some Monday morning recreation. I had no real clue as to where I was going, but eventually the big track faded out - round the back of some cement cylinder and all of a sudden I was on my own. This was rad. A scrubby jungle hiking trail in the heart of one of the most populated cities in the world!! Who could ask for more. I'll tell you what though, it was hot!! From here on in it was practically straight up the entire way. I had to pass over a number of large granite slabs which sloped gracefully down the verticals of the mountain. At times these were a tad wet, and proved a little sketchy in my worn out Connie's. But for the most part, I was flying. It was great to be out exercising in such a beautiful setting. Cargo ships could be spotted all around the bay, and the complexity of the city began to take shape from high above. Such tranquillity...

Climbing Pão de Açucar

That was until I hit the main objective...a ten to fifteen meter section of steep crack ridden rock, laughing back in my face. A sign explained the situation : 'WARNING!! This section requires climbing gear, do not attempt to climb it if you are not PREPARED and PROPERLY EQUIPPED!!' Errr...well now what?? It didn't look all so bad; how hard could it be?? I've done a ton of free climbing in the past before, and felt pretty confident I could still knock it off. So I gave it a shot. The first section was easy; just up a couple of ledges with plenty of things to grip on to, but it wasn't until I got to a tricky section with a bulging boulder that I started to seriously doubt if I could finish the climb. There was a metal bolt drilled into the wall at this point, and I felt I could use that to some advantage. As it turned out I think it only made matters worse. My fingers got stuck when trying to reach for other holds, and committing to anything at this point was becoming a real life or death gamble. Some of the parts were a little glazed with moister also, which didn't make securing my feet any easier, so I thought I'd give it a shot bare foot. That was idiotic. It only cut my toes to shreds. I was near on turning back by now - I was tired, thirsty & shaken up from the seriousness of the would be tumble; but something in me said to give it one final shot. Something different?? Alright fuck it!!...Eiiikkk, alright so now I really was stuck in the deep end!! There was no turning back from here. I remember someone telling me once that you have to be careful what you get yourself into when free climbing cause you can reach a certain point where you can neither go up nor down. I felt like this was now. It was a long drop below. Never do this at home kids. The only thing I had left to do was put my faith in a tree root...please don't be flimsy...heck it was pretty flimsy!! Quick, quick, quick!! Got it!!! With the remainder of my arm born energy I pulled myself up onto the ledge and prayed with a deep cry it was to be the last. I was spent. I couldn't believe how stupid that was and how close I'd come to fucking it up!! If anyone reads this with plans to do the same...don't blame me when you fall and crack you skull open. It's not the best idea after all. But hey...you save yourself 25 bucks.

Rio de Janeiro from Pão de Açucar

By the time I'd reached the top of the mountain I was dripping like a summer storm. God knows what people were thinking...I was covered in mud and looked like I'd just ran a marathon. It's hard work catching a cable car hey!! I jumped a fence that said not to, and took a seat with a fantastic view back to the way I'd just came from. After I'd caught my breathe I slinked over to some of the 'official' miradors to cap off a remarkable day. There was the city before me; the most beautiful I am ever yet (and ever likely) to see. In my opinion, the reward was well worth the madness. Sorry Sal, I'll be much more sensible next time I promise...maybe!!

Pão de Açucar from below

The best thing about climbing Pão de Açucar yourself, is that you get to ride the cable car back down for free!! I'd spent nothing that day, so I decided to get drunk & celebrate. I woke up the next day with a hint of a hangover with nothing to show for it. Noice. The worst kind. I felt I should wander down to Ipanema to walk it off. Down at the beach I watched the surfers bob beside the rocks, drank myself a caipirinha for breakfast, then ran into a model photography shoot jammed packed with draw dropping stunners!! This was the life. I think I'll end up sticking around for a little longer than I had planned. Either way, I had to change hostels that day yet again; the build up to Carnival was making finding good accommodation hectic. This time I was moving out to the suburb of Lapa, a world apart from the glitz & glamour of Copacabana or Ipanema, and it took me a while to readjust to the mayhem. Well that was OK anyway, because I got stuck inside for most of the day due to the driving rain. I sat about in the huge lounge room watching movies & pretending to be busy. It wasn't until later that night that I made a move to be in any way socially active. I sat at the bar & drank caipirinhas until my mouth felt as if it was full off fluff. An Aussie girl called JackiO, who I quickly took a liking to explained that this was a common occurrence, and that she had read somewhere that people were putting nail clippers in their mouths because of it and trying to chop off their taste buds!! What the fuck is wrong with the world!!?? This munted trend of conversation continued throughout the remainder of the night, as somehow we managed to skip between such exotic hot topics; from 'sitting down in the shower,' to the self diagnosis of 'neck clad lymph nodes.' I thought she was a smart girl until she dragged me into the deserted unlit streets in search of the famous Santa Teresa steps at 4 o'clock in the morning...ahhh, blow your balls up you sucker. I'm so gonna get shot one of these days.

Models posing on Ipanema beach

I think we woke the whole dorm up the following morning. Quickly put in my place by some brave buccaneer, I was told to 'shut the fuck up!' or 'get out!!' Aight mate, I get the jist. I hadn't got too much sleep at all that night, and I was up mighty early; I didn't miss breakfast however...so that was one bonus!! I had to knock off that other 'must-do' before I could chill the hell out around these parts, and today was looking as promising as it was likely to ever be. Off to see the big Jesus - the Redeemer himself. We ended up climbing the road with a hot chica from Bahia who was trying desperately to practise her English, and her fat mother who reminded me of the black hooker off the movie 'Borat.' Please don't turn out like your mumma girlo...it would be such a waste. Once up top, it was a wondrous occasion...the only shame about it all was the crowds. You could barely move. This spot obviously wasn't designed with the 21st Century tourist boom in mind. I squeezed through the pack and grabbed a couple of quick snaps; however, then I refused to move. I wasn't coming up all this way not to take it all in. It was much like being at a rock concert - once you were at the rail you were set; let that safety net go and you find yourself in a whirlwind. He does look a bit like a giant rock-god made of rock now doesn't he??

Christ the Redeemer

We had a mad crew that night for another hair-raiser. We'd decided to buy some rum & stir up our own drinks...well one bottle turned into two...and add to that all those pre-drinking tasty cocktails from the bar & you've all of a sudden set yourself up for one messy night!! Soon we were doing our best to samba downstairs in some nearby club, and from there on in I can't remember much else...there was bum dancing, circle stand-offs and missing people. Somehow JackiO & I ended up on a concrete seat yet again talking our way through the bullshit on the empty streets of Lapa. Strange days. I needed a detox. Better make for Búzios. Shit son, watch out...BEACH BOUND!!!

Catchya later hombres...
Somehow surviving this CachaÇaFest!!
Wish you were here...

Much Overdue Luvin'
Nicko xxx

Tropic Thunder, Foz do Iguaçu

The air is thick, the smells are strange. For me, it's all these oddities which make the topic regions of the world so appealing. Ice & snow might make the mountain tops gleam with a shroud of elegance and mystery, but I like my days sweat-stained & shoeless; sun-stroked & shameless. Sun shine shapes my photosynthetic soul. On that note, life was back on track more or less the moment I collapsed off that long overnight bus from Buenos Aires, arriving in the very north-eastern most point of Argentinawithout a clue as to what I was doing, and still slightly shaken up from my recent travel confusions. It was exactly what I was craving - the heat, the hecticness; a sense of feeling lost - until at least I realised in I was back in the pack (no shit...) and sheepishly un-lost my way. I had only two objectives to cover; most obviously of course was to see a big waterfall...(quite the understatement) - to witness first hand the magnificence of a natural world wonder, arguably the the most spectacular cascades on the entire planet!! How could I not be feeling more than a little buzzed up?? Secondly, yet in many ways almost as fundamental to the remainder of my trip; was to get myself a visa for Brazil. The wankers back in Buenos Aires wouldn't have a bar of it. I don't really get what all the fuss was about. I walked into the Brazilian consulate there in Puerto Iguazu at about 10:30am, with exactly the same documentation in hand as I had in the capital - 15 minutes later, I'm walking out with my numbered paper slip & instructions to return the following day. How easy was that!! I didn't even need to use my fake air ticket I created on 'paint'. Of course now I could stress less to sleep; there would be no late night secret police detainment anytime soon.

My Brazil visa & ticket to Rio!!

So I was set - a brand new 90 day multi entrance visa. If only I had the 90 days extra to spare. Before leaving Buenos Aires I tried to change the dates of my flights to no avail. It was likely to cost me as much as a fresh ticket, and I sure don't have that kind of money at the moment. Salvador, Venezuala & the rest of The Amazon unfortunately would have to wait; not to mention another sure craic of a time in Cusco. I still believe I am doing the right thing, so I'm gonna stick by it. The best I can now do is to make the most of my time on this continent while I'm actually still here. Live for the moment. It's the best way to be. And so I did my best that following day. It was finally time to pay ol' Iguazu Falls a much overdue friendly visit. It was almost too easy getting out there; they have the whole system running very efficiently. It only took me an hour or so to splash some water over my head, slam down some carb loaded breakfast, and to bus it out to the national park. I payed the entrance fee, and I was in!! The first thing I noticed were all the vermin like coatis, huddling in groups around tree trunks, and every now and then taking a swipe at some poor tourists lunch bag. Shit was going every where. Near the restaurant I witnessed 'super-coati' - he had to be the ring leader. He was so fat he kind of resembled a striped basketball on stubby stilts. After whizzing past a bunch of crippled codgers who were busy taking photos with their over sized & out of place looking Ipads, my first glimpse of the falls came not too far along the Sendero Inferior track. Nothing can prepare you for what you actually witness in real time. It was paradise. Water was coming out of everywhere!! The bright greens of the lush vegetation contrasted quite wholly with the clear blue skies, and the white wash of the plummeting river. I took a moment for admiration, while there was still few people around; then got involved with some goofy self portraits.

First glimpse of Iguazu Falls

It seemed appropriate to see the falls from a distance first. That initial excitement is only heightened as you edge nearer. It's hard to fully understand the magnitude of this place until you have been there. Photos do not do it justice. It's more than just what you see...it's the thundering sounds, the rain like smell, & the cool presence of the engulfing mist as it soaks you completely. Everywhere I looked took my breath away. Any one of these individual falls would be worth a three or four hour hike in it's own right. One of my favourite spots at the entire park, was the view point next to San Martin Falls; across the from the mainland via a free ferry, on an island surrounded by the river. I could only take a few photos from this spot, as my camera was copping a pounding and soon shut down. In less than a minute I was drenched. Standing up on the rails, one could see down into the torrents below; and as the sun shone strong from above, rainbows formed to cross the divide. A magical place.

Rainbows from San Martin Island

Returning from the island, I completed the lower circuit & took a bit of a break in the shade of the big lighthouse. Coatis were continuing to run riot on the unsuspecting tourists. Even some monkeys came out to play. Climbing above the falls provided another perspective entirely. The Sendero Superior track hugs the cliff faces, and affords wide vistas over the entire area. There were a lot more people around by the afternoon. I was glad I'd got there early. It wasn't hard however to block out the mobs. I kept picturing Indiana Jones like moments where the safety of a river raft becomes yet another sticky situation as the rapids increasingly pick up speed, until the water world abruptly comes to a hair-raising tumbling end. The hero however always survives. I wonder how I'd go??

Hangin' out up top

I had a similar inclining at the parks centre piece, and my final destination for the day. After a quick train ride through the jungle, and a short platformed walk across many interconnected river passages; I arrived at the Garganta del Diablo (devils throat), an immense U shaped cut out of an imaginary plateau, where the river (in an almost lake like expanse) plunges heavily into the the void. It was reminiscent of what I pictured a black-hole would look like - or the churning's of a bathroom plug; the water just got gurgled up, spat back out, & shot down the valley below. I didn't want to leave. It's tough when you know you'll most likely never visit a place like this ever again. Shucks...I decided then I'd be back tomorrow.

Falls around the Garganta del Diablo

I was burning up by the time I got back into town. It was super hot, and super humid. I splashed about in the hostels pool like a summer child. Today had been pretty special. Later than night I got a tip off from a Dutch girl I'd met diving in Puerto Madryn, and we met up for a drink at one of the local guzzlers. It's amazing how much can change in just a few days. I was so complacent right now. It just goes to show that when times are tough, tomorrow is always a brighter day.

And it was. It was stinking hot yet again!! Too good. I packed up my stuff, crushed chow, & made for another country - Brazil. How bloody celebratory. I'd never dreamed of making it this far: it was hard to believe it was finally happening. I picked up my visa, and crossed the border. As simple as that. Now I could make some ground. When I got into Foz do Iguaçu, the larger Brazilian town on the opposite side of the river, there were a number of things I urgently had to attend to if all was to run smoothly for the next few days. First I needed a bed. Done. A cheap option just down from the urban bus terminal. Then I needed some cash. There were some ATM's nearby at the supermarket but I had a bunch of trouble withdrawing anything at all from most of them. Suspiciously, the security guard helped me out which I normally don't allow, but in this instance I was helpless. Portuguese is hard!! It's so frustrating at this point, coming so far in my español, only for a shift of country to counter that progression. It was so similar yet so different. Out of habit I couldn't stop saying 'hola!!'...or 'gracias!!'  I only hope the big pig was genuinely being nice & didn't rob me. So anyway, I was all moneyed-up; now I needed to buy a bus ticket out of here. Where better than to Rio de Janeiro!! Holy fuck...I couldn't believe I was actually going there. The city of all cities - the 'City of God.' We'll leave that one now for another chapter...

Once all the necessities were dealt with, I could now vamanos off to re-visit the falls. On the bus I met two cool Swedish guys, and found it easy to tag along with them. However waiting in the line for tickets, this Israeli girl must have picked up on my accent and barged in on our conversation. 'Hey you're Australian yeaa??'...well that's not all that hard to see - 'I lived in Australia for a while, you should come into the park with us, come on, up here!!...'  geee, I'm not the biggest fan of cutting lines but she was pretty persistent. Plus, one of her friends was smoking hot. This could be fun. Well let's just say it was for a while. I soon got the jist that this was one of those possessive freakos. She was nice enough, but I just couldn't shake her. Soon I was taking photos for her, holding her bag, needing to wait up for her & listening to her bitch about the other two girls. 'Chill the fuck out mate!!' The other chicks were sound, this girl was mental. One time I walked off to take some photos and she got pissed cause I hadn't waited for her to catch up. The best was when I told her I'd been planning to go to Ilha Grande in the next few weeks, and then she pressed that I changed my ticket to Rio so we could go together. This was getting ridiculous. I just wanted to watch the falls in silence!! Ahhh, you can't win 'em all Nicko...I was pretty happy with the day despite. The Brazilian side offered the best panoramic of the entire stretch of the waterfalls. I just blocked the girl out while I got rained on by the refreshing spray.

Brazilian side of Iguaçu

Everyone had ditched me with the evil one. I was on my own. She started hounding poor unsuspecting folk about the buses, so I just bailed. I had better people to waste my time on. Back in town I had myself a mad pay by weight buffet, and chatted the night away on the adjoining outside veranda bar with a pair of Czech lads, a crazy German, and two young students from Portugal; accompanied of course by the indulgment of one too many caipirinhas. These guys only further intrigued me with hopes of Europe. If all worked out it was gonna be a hoot. Things will work out. I will be a hoot!! I couldn't believe my luck (or chance) the next day when I'd wandered out to get some supplies for the upcoming bus trip. 'Oi!!' I looked up, and to my amazement, there was Goldilocks poking his head out the hostel window; the same hostel I was in!! What were the chances. We caught up on old times, shared some new tales & was introduced to his famous poker playing brother, BlackJack. We plan to meet back up at some point - maybe Ilha Grande. I'd sure rather have some back up against that serial killer she-Jew. Can't wait. For now, it's off to Rio de Janiero!! HAPPY 'STRAYA DAY!! Best day on the bloody planet!! See you on Copacabana beach ...

The River Gurgling in the Devils Throat

...life is good, hope everyone agrees. 
Much lovin' RadDawg. xxx

The Life & Death of a Melancholy Mind, Buenos Aires

Why HI!! Every now and then, ones direction through life becomes a little hazy. You may begin to ask yourself a lot of impossible to answer questions. I often wonder what this world is all about. Sometimes I wish I could simply cruise through the motions as complacently as my younger brother seemingly does. On other days I'm glad my twitchyness & agitism never lets me lose that next step nerve. Yet right now I believe that barrier which has so often blocked me from a boring existence is broken. I'm acting well cooked. I've thrown myself into the frying pan, and I'm not too sure how to scamper back out. Closing in recently on the big one year mark sure hasn't done my poor head any favours. Last Thursday I rolled on into Buenos Aires (my supposed ultimate South Americandestination) with a plan scooting along in fine fashionable form. Now I can't seem to get a grip on what to do next. I want nothing more than to avoid becoming some haggard unappreciative forever-wandering twat, but things have become totally jaded. Half way through last year, I hurriedly organised (without much of an insight) to get my bitchin' bootie off this continent by the end of February; in theory after one final showdown in Rio de Janeiro for Carnival. At the time I guess I was caught in a kind of disillusionment. The money sure disappeared much faster than I would have liked, and the practise of finding work in Europe was turning out to be a lot more complicated than I obviously first thought. Also, I never ended up running into some smokin' hot Brazilian babe who was willing to have some scummer sleep on her couch for that one riotous week - Carnival too it seemed would have to wait. So when revising my situation during a fresh stint of ghastly hungoverness, I made the sporadic decision to chuck all my fortified plans out the window, only to create for myself some new ludicrous fantastical visionary adventure. I won't be hopping onto that plane (why the hell not??). I won't be visiting a lot of wonderful friends (are you nuts??). Instead I'll probably end up contacting malaria somewhere out on The Amazon River. The drive behind all this (and how long will that last for)?? - I'm still not quite sure. However if it manages to mend this dented soul, it may be all for the best. Yeaaa?? Huh?? I really hope so...

The 67 meter Obelisk in Buenos Aires

("So, if you really took a punt on all that previously stated crap, you may be soon losing a fair chunk of money. The past week has proven without a doubt that there are a bunch of evil Kremlings running a dysfunctional roller coaster through the delicacies of my brain. However all will be revealed later along in the piece; for now we must return to the first instalment...")

Wellll now. How to begin after that rant?? - pampas, pampas & MORE pampas!!...I was super excited on my initial arrival into Buenos Aires. The fabled Argentine capital, said to be reminiscent in many ways to Paris, gradually blurred its way into existence as I woke from a long overnight haul from Puerto Madryn. I disembarked, collected my ever diminishing luggage from beneath the coach, and stretched my legs with a bit of a strategised meander through the surrounding streets. The city was beautiful, I have to say. Busy business complexes were elegantly decorated with shady trees, and the many peaceful parks & plazas provided a much welcome escape from general every day urban living. Place this with the fact that the women here were the hottest things I'd seen in the entirety of Latin America. I felt like a common criminal hidden behind my dark shades. I couldn't help but turn my head in astonishment at every corner and at more in between. Goldilocks had warned me. I will never doubt his wisdom ever again. The only shit thing I could figure, was the fact I had no place to plonk this weary head of mine. In truth, I'd kind of forgotten all about it. I'd survived rocking up in Mexico City at 1 o'clock in the morning, fresh faced & unseasoned, with little more than a pathetic plan to crash out on a restaurant table - and since that fateful day, I've simply assumed all other situations would play out like a pre-informed game of rock, paper, scissors. I wish those New Zealand  girls were still around; they treated me in a much preferred fashion than what I got stuck with this time around. As far as the Internet was telling me, Buenos Aires was booked out!! What!!?? That can't be right. In hindsight I should probably learn to use HostelBookers a bit better. I freaked out, lost my cool, & ended up in some dive, stuck chatting with a fat Finnish homosexual. What is it with gays pouring out their heart & soul to me?? It always seems to happen!! I instantly regretted paying for two nights accommodation straight up, and couldn't wait to get my party on with me Swede. Hurry up girl!! Save me from such gloom!!

A park in Recoleta

I got up & out of there as early as I could the following morning. That's the thing with hostels at the end of the day, they are merely just a place to crash - you shouldn't be spending too much time there anyhow. I assumed the best way to get a quick overall glimpse of the city would be to buy a ticket for the tourist bus, which does a big loop of all the main attractions. By midday, it was boiling up on roof deck; it must have been peaking at around 40 degrees in the sun. But once it got moving the breeze took the edge off those harsh rays, and it was quite relaxing getting about without having to do too much thinking. I hopped off at the famous football stadium in the barrio of La Boca, before wandering along to the brightly pastel coloured streets around the Caminito. The whole area had a pretty funky vibe about it, with plenty of live music & street performers. However it didn't take long to reach the limits of the touristic complex. La Boca is also one of Buenos Aires' poorest suburbs, and browsing a few blocks in any one direction places you back in the reality. Many people sleep on the streets, and I encountered a bunch of folk even digging through the trash for food scraps. You begin to realise that your 'problems' are nothing more than small inconveniences.

The Caminito, La Boca

Later on that afternoon I felt it was worth forking out a bit of extra cash for a pair of jeans. Buenos Aires' nightlife is notorious, and it would be a disaster to miss it on account of my notoriously lousy attire. I had no idea where the best place might be to look, so I took a stroll along the well known pedestrianised shopping street, Calle Florida. All I could decipher from the mayhem was the "cambio, cambio" calls coming from the black market money changers who plague the thoroughfare; nothing else really appealed to me. I hate shopping at the best of times, even more so when I don't know where to look. After half an hour or so, I still couldn't find any jeans that took my fancy, so I bit my pride & stormed into the chicks clothes section of a Myer like department store. When I eventually placed a pair of black skinnies on the counter, the attendant looked at me as if I were retarded. "Estos son para mujeres..." - Yea!! No shit you wanker...I just wanna pay & get the hell out of here as fast as I can in all honesty. I rolled the dice, payed the price & done the dash back to hide in my hostel. A renewed encounter with the Finnish dude topped me off the scale. If it wasn't for my SwedishSweetheart coming to the rescue at the last possible moment, I think I would have put my head through the television. It was soooo good to see her!! We'd met in Colombia like seven months ago, and she'd gone home & now returned in between!! Maybe I had been away too long?? This was a kind of strange scenario. Either way, we had to celebrate - so we escaped the wrath of my whimsical pal (what an excuse thank fuck!!), and made for the nearest bar we could find to guzzle down pints of beer & cheap bottles of wine.

The nights in Buenos Aires are scorchers. It'd been a while since I hadn't had to use a blanket. It'd been even longer since I was grateful for a freezing cold shower in the morning. I'd decided to check into Milhouse Hostel the next day. I was eager for a bit of a party, and this place had a wild reputation throughout the city. SwedishSweetheart checked in next door, and we made a bit of a pre-party excursion to the parks surrounding Palermo. Now...I'm starting to get a slight inclining of little wonder why the Finnish freak continued to press me. To my enduring embarrassment - we made the choice to go roller blading!! WTF!!?? For close to an hour I reckon we glided, zoomed, pranced (whatever you want to call it) around an artificial lake in one of those Palermo parks. It seemed like everyone was into it!! Even the machos. I'm not sure whether this is something to be boasting about, but I've always been ridiculously good at this 'sport' for some reason - so of course I found it quite entertaining to watch full grown men (who would normally annihilate me in a game of basketball or rugby), stumbling around out of utter anxiety, desperately clinging on to the petite hands of their wife's (who were struggling enough themselves), not so unlike a baby taking his first assistance needed steps. The other highlight was when miss Swede axed her self in a horizontal display of lank-limbness. For a brief moment I thought she'd snapped her wrists. I'm really glad she hadn't, cause I couldn't stop laughing; and somehow this allowed my hysterics to be warranted without a single mind of sympathy. Sorry kiddo. The remainder of that day was taken up by being practically spear tackled by a shirtless homeless guy, and chugging down one of the best strawberry smoothies I've ever had.

My SwedeSweetheart Roller blading!!

As the sun went down across the city for another balmy Saturday night, things began to heat back up in other ways. Actually I'm not too sure if I even waited for sun down; happy hour was on and I was stuck between the walls of a so called 'party' hostel with a bunch of tight shirt, unsociable twats. I bought two pints straight up and allowed whatever was to happen unfold. I did get chatting to a small group of people after a while, but I can't say the conversation truly intrigued me...who were these people??...and why did they come to the other side of the world to make such a shit 'sock-dance like' fiesta. We got kicked off our tables at about 10 o'clock, only to have them moved into a corner of the room to make space for a large 'dance floor' of such. I hate when they do that. I'm not going to dance when you practically force me to dance. Chill the fuck out. To make matters worse, the music they were blasting was some god awful top 10 cheese. The only way to numb the pain (or lie to myself that it wasn't so bad) was to down more pints of whatever this blue stuff was. By late night I was drunk enough not to notice it. I recall ending up out on the street with no shoes on, eating some kind of hot dog pie. Good ol' charliebrown even popped in and payed me a little visit. We hadn't crossed paths since Cusco, and I'd intended to keep it that way. But the devil tricks us easy. Soon I was in fine form, flying down the highway in some packed party van. Blllagghaarr!!! Wooo-wooot!! The club we ended up in was enormous, the biggest I think I've ever seen. There were about six or seven separate areas from memory, each with its own bar, and a huge open outside area with a stage draped in energetic near naked performers. I lost my new friends within the first few minutes. It was like being at a festival with no cell phone. I spent the majority of the night huddled in a corner, chatting & chain smoking cigarettes with this Argenite girl called Flopp. A lot of things seemed to happen. Maybe not all of them true. By the time the sun came up out over the Rio de la Plata I was well famished & ready to bail. The Argie's were only getting started by the looks of things. I pushed my way outside, hopped into a cab with a few other gringos & passed out back the hostel.

I'd missed breakfast when I finally woke back up. Of course I had. Holy crap I was feeling terrible!! I couldn't hang out here in the hostel - it was like being trapped in a pig pen. I decided it was best to go for a walk, eat some food & rehydrate. Well some good that did me. Standing on a random street intersection at the lively Sunday San Telmo markets; minding my own business, contemplating buying a maté pot...I get a tap on the shoulder from behind. Huh?? At first I'm a little more than confused. I hadn't intended on looking at anyone today. "So you got my email then?!!" It was PhilipOkles!! No way!! I hadn't checked my emails at all for like two days. I knew he lived here in the city, and I was really hoping to catch up, but this was crazy!! "DCTalk is meeting me here in like 5 minutes..." woahhh!!! I couldn't believe my luck. The three of us reunited. So bloody random!! It was a happy day. We stood around in the streets drinking beers & listening to live music, catching up on all our separate adventures. What started out as a painful seedy Sunday, turned out to be my favourite of the lot. People just kept coming up to us for a chat. We met a trapeze artist from London coming over to make the big time, watched a Paraguayan pan flute band steal the show just for fun, and played football in the park with a bunch of local kids & a scary (yet somehow sexy??) girl from Norway with unkempt hairy legs & underarms. To top it off, we went back into the centre of town for a few more quiet drinks at an outdoor restaurant. Swede tagged along, and I also got to meet DCTalk's pal from home, Bernaby. It was actually refreshing to meet someone like that. I kind of envied his enthusiasm. Having hardly ever been on a real overseas vacation before, this guy was bursting at the seams with genuine excitement. He was like a little kid on the night before Christmas. I remember when I was like that too, and it made me realise how unappreciative & unmotivated I'd become. A year on the road can take its toll, and in a way I was beginning to feel the crunch. Something soon would have to give. I had a lot to sum up I guess...

Street Performers in San Telmo

I started out by trying to fix up my visa for Brazil the following day. It didn't sound so complicated, and I had a bit of time to kill here in the city. I also thought I'd pre-arranged everything for a swift application; how wrong could I have been!! It turned into a nightmare. Once I found the consulate, I patiently waited in line to be served. The first time I reached a window I was sent to another line - another cue & another wait. This happened two or three times. When I finally made it to the correct window, the rude bitch at the counter wouldn't have a second of my attempted Spanish & began yelling at me about who knows what?? Something!! Fuck you lady!! What is it you want me to do?? I went back to the information desk & they pointed me back to her. She began yelling at me again, a spit about an 'appointment'?? That's the first I'd heard of it. How does one make this appointment?? She just started screaming at me again about how she doesn't know everything - ask someone else!! Ahhh shit...nothings ever easy when it comes to paper work. I stormed out of the building, wishing I had a bomb so I could blow the place up. An afternoon stroll around the Recoleta Cemetery, and a quick churipan fix soon had me feeling much better. It was a bit freaky staring down into some of the crypts. The coffins were sitting there in plain sight. There were dead dudes in there. Becoming a mummy hunter might be kind of cool.

The Recoleta Cemetery

Later on that night we'd all been invited over to PhilipOkles' place for dinner. Turns out he likes to cook. He put on one hell of a buffet!! Herbed potatoes, fresh salads & a ton of fine Argentine carne. His apartment was beautiful. How he bagged that place I will never know. Downstairs in the courtyard I met his Italian tango dancing flat mate Ida, who gave be a thorough rundown on the links throughout history between Italian & Buenos Airean street dancing, at least until we all retreated upstairs to the roof terrace to finish off the rest of the wine. I was coming to love this city. This was something I hadn't planned for. I had friends, comfort & countless things to keep me occupied. Maybe I should stay on for a while longer?? Europe could wait no doubt...all my confusions intensified.

Chillin' at PhilipOkles place

By the time André arrived mid week, I was already to beginning to build some kind of alternate plan for my near future. SwedishSweetheart was already booked in for two months studying Spanish; maybe I should do the same?? There was still so much left to do. The coast of Brazil, chugging up the mighty Amazon while swaying away in a hammock, a short climbing stint in the Venezuelan table-top mountains...not to mention my ever burning desire to make a grand slam return to Cusco. During one sporadic moment of yet another hungover afternoon, I made a snap decision to stay. I posted the news to my friends & family on the net as to cement this choice out of questionability. Over the next few days I made some rough plans on what I wanted to do, who I wanted to see and what I seriously wanted to gain out of this entire trip. I was still searching for adventure (or so I thought) more than anything. What better a way than to throw myself into the most dangerous areas of the continent. Maybe I could write some kind of vagabond fairytale. What if I found myself somewhere super chilled out on the Caribbean coast, diving & bar tending everyday?? I'm sure I could easily talk myself into settling down for a while. This was my newest 'problem' - I now had too many options...

...and that's when shit hit the fan all over again.

I had a weekend of sombreness to sober me up. What was I doing?!? That's the thing - NOTHING!! For the past few days I'd done nothing of note except forking out 100 bucks for Spanish classes (which I was now knew I'd never be taking), and hanging out in a park with PhilipOkles & Ida eating dry tuna sandwiches and sipping on my ever so ex-dreaded maté. My time was done here. I had a flight. I could always come back. In Europe I could actually get a job which was fun and actually payed. I'd simply be buying myself time working here. In Europe I had innumerable friends who would be willing to let me crash on their couches, or at least show me the highlights of their cities from a locals point of view. That would be unbeatable. Hell, I could learn Spanish in Spain!! It was like I awoke from a bad dream. I regretted posting my plans on the net more than anything, but I wasn't going to let my pride stand in the way of what I now knew was the right choice. Buenos Aires had been a great time; it really lightened my tainted image of the entire country, but it was time to leave. I had to come to grips with my dwindling bank accounts, harden the fuck up & enjoy my time out on the road while it lasts. There would be a lot of people out in the big wide world who would kill to be in my position right about now. To my SwedishSweetheart & André, Philipokles & Ida - I'm real sorry for bailing in such a dramatic fashion. I haven't been myself of late. I really hope to see you guys again soon. Have a sick time on the rest of your travels. As should everyone!! Live everyday like it's your last. You never know when the game is up.

Happy days in Buenos Aires - Picnic in the Park

Much lovin' from a happy go lucky kind of guy...errr yep. 
Off now to retribute myself!!

Nicko xxx

Meet the Foca's, Puerto Madryn

It was feeling just about right, by the time I eventually ditched my mates back in the drab & dreary desolate south lands of Tierra del Fuego and began the long & tiresome journey north. It had taken me ten wild months and seventeen extra-ordinary days to get to this point thus far (to be precise), and I wasn't about to let the cogs become dwindled with rust all so soon. I was acting a little jaded. Something had to change. New Years Eve came and went for another year, in typically rowdy fashion. Could 2013 hold up strong against its grand extravagant predecessor?? Sitting by the computer one day; smashing out another shit weather induced coma-rised session, a friendly Dutch guy (aren't they all?!!) asked me about all the cool things there were to do with ones self down here in Ushuaia. It was pretty embarrassing when I literally responded with "ummm...to be completely honest bud, I've done nothing at all." This was my third night in town by this point, and I'd barely left the hostel - no wait, we did change hostels...that took up the better part of a day of course. I forced myself to take a walk, to scale the steep streets and wander the busy wharf. There was a big sign down near the waters edge, "El Fin del Mundo!!" (the end of the world); and with this, I gave myself a slight pat on the back for the achievement. Once that was done, I had no further desire to continue any further south. I had nothing else to prove to myself (or to anyone else for that matter). From here on in I did what I wanted to do; I go where I wanted to go. And for me, that meant getting the fuck out of this cold diabolic.

The water front of Ushuaia

To begin with, I guess I better skim over the antics of New Years for good measure. As always, I'd got myself a bit overly revved up with anticipation. It's my second favourite day of the year after all (a slither better than an AFL Grand Final showdown, but nothing in comparison to an Australia Day Hottest 100 cracker!!), and I'm sure I let everyone around me know it. I'd already become unpopular with the hostel owners; I don't really know why to be honest. One day the crazy bitch was sweeping the floors of the dining area & I hadn't yet noticed - she screamed something illegible at me and I spun around wildly in confusion, only to land a foot square in her pile of trash & dust. I thought she was gonna beat me to death with that broom of hers. There were balls of fire raging in her eyes. I thought she looked like a rat. Anyway, all things aside, we for some reason weren't invited to join the 'family's' exclusive asado that night. They made us revellers feel as if we were invading their private religious underground function. We squeezed into a corner & scammed chunks of bread off the more friendly folk. It was still daylight outside till well after 11 o'clock, and this took a bit of the jizz out of the hose. My alcoholism more than made up the difference, and when DCTalk called the countdown by his watch I well wanted to jump up on the tables & run down the street with excitement!! Haha...we fucked that one up hey Hayes?? The hostel chums didn't take lightly to all this, since their countdown was to be a few minutes later on the fucking television. BooHoo'd...we'd apparently wasted the limelight on ourselves; screw 'em!! I'll take two good countdowns any day!! We gave it a second go (with the hostels approval this time), and got plenty joyous.

Now why would the coolest pub in town shut up shop for the first & biggest party of the new year?? And an Irish pub called 'Dublin'??? Well, as my Irish friend rightly put it, "it obviously isn't an Irish pub." Too true!! I'd bought some wristband pass to a festival in the forest somewhere out of town near the National Park, which was apparently meant to go all night; but since the hostel guys didn't follow through with their promise to hook up my pals with some extra tickets, we decided to all bail to this strange dive not to far down the street. From here things get a little more than hazy. I lost my wallet somewhere (which had in it more cash than normal, stashed away for a bus ticket which I never bought), and then I spent a large part of the night searching high & low for it to no avail. Shit. Then I fell asleep in the corner, and accidentally smashed a glass. Whoops. Then Goldilocks started manging some fat shit. Again, whoops. He was pleasant & kind enough to take his prize into the reclusiveness of the TV room, along with his camping mat questionably tucked under his arm. Poor boy. He'll be chewing that arm off tomorrow morning. You win bruz. Hands down, haha.

So it was time to leave the so called 'end of the world,' in search of greener pastures. I'd spent sparingly minimal time alone in the past two months, and I'd become adjusted to Goldilocks doing much of the overall planning. It was nice for a while, but it makes one lazy; it makes ones Spanish significantly worse, and being part of a group can tendingly lead to less random interaction with other travellers. It's been fun lads. Tata for now. I hopped into a colectivo (as there were no more buses out of town), and pushed on to the sprawling mess of Rio Grande. I'm pretty sure this place used to be an old oil operation, I could be wrong, but I can't for the life of me figure out why any one would live here for any other reason. The scenery around & out of Ushuaia was illustrious; my final foothold in the great Andes for some time I believe - but the soaring mountains soon deminished to parched wastelands; endless flat pampas plains that stretched as far as the eye could see, only broken & made interesting by the odd glimpse of a grazing guanaco. When I reached Rio Grande, everything was shut, including the bus terminal. O' goodie. A plump grandpa out front explained that the offices would be open again within the hour, after siesta of course. I toddled off to find something to munch on; as it turned out - cold empanadas. I still had some time to kill, so I browsed the deserted streets for a place to crash if need be. Please let this not eventuate!! I was starting to wish I'd simply stayed on a bit longer in Ushuaia. My trusty travel book had few options listed, but I was sure I would find somewhere. Never have I not been able to find at least something to suit in the past. However, this time it looked like I was out of luck. The hostel I was betting on had shut down, and the only other I could find was a smelly expensive rip off. I returned to the bus terminal in a gruff. It was open, but there were no tickets for tonight. Not from all three bloody companies. The only thing they had was an early afternoon bus to Punta Arenas for the following day. Great..."ok I'll book that then I guess." Turns out they couldn't sell me a ticket until 5 'clock!! What the fuck??!! Here is my money!! Take it! I want to buy a ticket from you now, from this office!! Why are you open if you can't sell any tickets?? I'd lost it. I stormed out back into the street and made for the highway at the end of town.

It took much longer than I anticipated to reach a half decent spot to hitch. I still had cuts on the backs of my heels from the final day in Torres del Paine, and now they'd become re-opened & were rubbing ferociously against my two sizes too small second hand connie's which I'd found in a bathroom back in Bariloche. Wind was violently raging across the open sea, slapping me in the face. Things weren't looking promising. After about two hours more or less, standing in the miserable cold with my thumb out, the only car which had stopped had been a young kid who was only travelling about 20 minutes or so down road, and would probably have just beaten the shit out of me with a couple of his mates had I jumped in. This was demoralising. Now it was getting quite late. Shit!! Maybe now I'd lost that chance at buying the bus ticket!! I cursed my impatience & powered back to the terminal. Wow...vacation can be so much fun. Thankfully the devil of a witch had a few tickets remaining; I'm not sure what I would have done otherwise. Still, I had no where to crash tonight, and it had just started pissing with rain. Looks like I was in for a long one.

I hung out in the service station until about 10 o'clock playing solitaire & reading my Spanish phrasebook. I must have had myself five or six coffees by the time I was made to leave. I came up with a grand master plan to camp somewhere out of town; to wait till just before dark when I could set up my tent and wait the night out. It sounded good in theory, but everything 'out of town' so to speak was miles away, and even when I'd reached these spots I'd most likely be blown away across the windy plains. Change of plans - I find myself a soccer field, park, or a nook on the beach. Dogs went nuts when I'd walk on by their treasured golden gates; every runner in town was out & about for a midnight run - what the fuck was this?? Does anything here ever get to sleep during normal hours?? Just off the beach I found myself a small park with a few swings & a seesaw. It looked like the kind of places we used to hang out 'back in the day' when we wanted to get pissed, away from the prowling eyes of our parents or the fun wrecking cops. So in truth, it probably wasn't the wisest place to pitch. However, there was a restaurant over the fence to where I gathered I could retreat if shit got real. And there the night passed me - in & out of my tent like a paranoid schizophrenic not dosed up enough on tranquilisers. I can't say I got much sleep. At one point a pug came running over to investigate the intrusion after escaping the clutches of its human. I wanted to throw rocks. But then I guessed the owner might because of this choose to call the cops. He buggered off after a while, and in time the sun began to poke over the horizon. I packed up the tent and lay in my sleeping bag along the pebbly beach, relaxing to the sounds of the waves. What a messed up scenario, I could only laugh. It's a good life lesson I guess - things always seem to work themselves out. Tomorrow can only be a better day.

Sleepy sunrise at Rio Grande

And in some ways it was!! The only shop which seemed open for business early in the morning confused the shit out of me when she refused to let me pay. Ok?? Unfortunately my breakfast consisted of little more than dry bread, fanta & some kind of lumpy yogurt. Maybe that's why. Once on the bus I passed out well good. These two Swiss guys I'd met somewhere else earlier, chuckled & commented on how shit I looked. Thanks guys. I didn't care by that point. I could have slept anywhere. Another border crossing - another stamp into Chile. I was losing track of how many times I'd had to do this, and even which country I was in at any given moment. Woohooo!! Two minute noodles were back!! I stocked up on those babies, then fed the cat my left over sausage. How generous of me. A quick skim over the town proved without a doubt that I wouldn't last here for more than 24 hours; so once again I booked another long bus, and after a night of again doing nada, got the hell out of there quick-smart. Where o' where was my Swedish-sweetheart?? Zing-zing, to zig town!!

I had nightmares of missing the bus that morning. That got me out of bed pretty sharp. At the all you can eat buffet breakfast, I managed to eat so much it squeezed the shit right out of me...literally. I couldn't believe it. Had I actually eaten so much bread that I'd shit my self?? Well that was embarrassing. Luckily there was practically no one else in the hostel to witness this misfortune. By the time I'd freshened up, it was time to leave. I quickly paid the supermarket a visit, stocking up on more noodles and bits & pieces for the journey, then sat on the cement footpath chopping up cucumber to put in my ham, cheese & salami sandwiches. Everyone was staring at me. I think I have lost the plot. Well used to it by now - I've long stopped caring. On the bus we were all handed immigration forms for Argentina (a normal procedure), but for the first time ever I was given a customs form as well?? This was common for entering Chile, but not Argentina. Had the new year changed everything?? Was DCTalk correct in saying we'd now have to pay a massive entry fee for all overland border crossings?? Shit. I didn't want to have to declare my perfectly prepared sandwiches, so I gobbled them all up when I wasn't hungry in the slightest. Oh no!! What if more shit got squeezed out of my fucked up bowels while stuck on the bloody bus!! This was all too much. As it turned out, I never even got asked to present my customs form, or to have my luggage inspected. What a joke. Now I was a bloated blueberry for no reason other than the bemusement of my bus companions.

Crunching quickly through all that chow meant I didn't have to eat for most of the remainder of the day. Such a shame. Once again I found myself staring out across a busy highway with no idea where the fuck I was. 'Bienvenidos a Rio Gallegos!!' Ahhh, of course. Do you also feel that all these towns are beginning to sound the same?? What now was I to do?? Book another bus outta there I guess!! It seems to be the way of life around these parts. I found a nice place to camp, and set about preparing for a venture into town. Then for some dambed reason my combo lock decided to malfunction once I'd secured it between the zips of my tent. Cheap piece of shit!! More dollars wasted. I hacked the chords apart & restructured the carnage with a little improvisation. And that pretty much summarises my day. How depressing. I did make it into the plaza for a bit, witnessing some kind of teenage mutant ninja turtle break dancing competition. Why was I here?? I had to stumble upon something cool soon surely. Well, in fact I did. Gratefully, cause I may have shortly began to slowly knife myself to death. I guess it is true incredible things tend to happen when you least expect it, and from whom you least expect it.

5 sandwiches for 18 hours, yiiewww!!

Now I haven't had the best track record to date with Argentinians, there even seems to be a large portion of the travelling gringo community who have fared much in the same manner. It's nice when something breaks through those progressively developed barriers, and directs things full circle. After eighteen hours, five salami & cheese sandwiches, and a whole one litre carton of pear juice, I arrived in the bustling sea side town of Puerto Madryn. I had no idea what to expect from the place, only that it would significantly break up my journey from the south to Buenos Aires, and that there might be some possibilities for some interesting scuba diving out in the gulf. Instantly I noticed the warmer weather - that was a plus. Hailing from the most southern land of 'the great southern land' itself, you'd expect me to be adjusted to the cold. Well I am. But it sucks. I now realise that. I wanna be surrounded by people wearing nothing but beaters, bikinis & short shorts. The hostels here were expensive, yet ridiculously elaborate. I guess it wouldn't hurt to stick around for a few days & spend a bit of hard earned cash. And who would have thought; before to long I was conversing quite freely in español (quite terribly still in retrospect), sharing wine & sipping maté with a jolly bunch of Argentines on vacation. If only Goldilocks & DCTalk could see me now. I would have never lived it down. It turns out a lot of these folk aren't so bad after all, if you grab them in the right context I presume. We strolled the busy beach, skimmed along the pier, and chilled in all the holidaying tranquillity - before at least I thought I'd lost another wallet and stressed the fuck out all the way back to the hostel, where they had it waiting for me behind the desk.

Is this seriously me sipping on maté?? WTF??

The following day was pretty chilled. I took great favour in a lengthy sleep in, and not needing to rush around in a frantic flabbergast. I'd bit the bullet & was planning to fork out for some diving; it'd been about nine months between drinks & I'd been re-dreaming about the splendour of the Caribbean night after night. This wasn't exactly bath water, but it would have to suffice for now - plus it's not every day you get a chance to swim with sea lions!! After a quiet night off the booze train, filled in by long games of pool with a hefty looking Czech IT wizz, the days flipped over & it was time to roll...backwards roll ¡SPLASH! into the icy waters of the temperate world. Fuck me, this was something different. I was enwrapped in a straitjacket, or so it seemed. A thick primary suit covered my vitals, while the outer doubled-up then fanned out over the rest of my exposed skin. I was even made to don a pair of booties & a restricting head cap - and I soon realised why!! The water was freezing in comparison to my last underwater encounters, and to begin with it kind of took the wind out of me. The gear-up had been quick, and I hadn't tested anything yet such as my mask or fins; then they chucked a 12 kilo belt around my waist. 'For the two wetsuits' they said...shit, I get that but I don't need this much!! Then I couldn't reach my air gauge...errr - not the best start or professionalism, but I was under way and happy to be so.

Down into the depths

The first dive of the day was down to an old ship wreck (of what year exactly I have no clue), and as we descended it was evident this was to be a completely new experience for me. The visibility was noticeably terrible; not due so much to the water itself, but from all the sediment collected around and on top of the wreck, floating around like air born fragments of newspaper which had been thrown into a blazing campfire. We had to stick close to one another; it would be all too easy to become disorientated. I spent the first 10 minutes or so re-adjusting to life under the sea. All the small things that become unnoticeable habits after numerous repetitive dives were long gone. To be completely honest, I was a little bit anxious & uncomfortable for a short while, but this momentarily passed as the dive progressed. Below the wreck there were huge hiding salmon (at least that's what we were told), and clam like critters clung to the old frame work & chains of the ship. It was an eerie place. At one point we came to a cabin hole in the decking, and our guide disappeared inside for a few seconds, returning righteously covered in some kind of orange rust like debris - possibilities for the future?? I hoped so.

We resurfaced after half an hour or so; I was feeling much more confident by then. I was glad to be back out there. We motored back to the beach, where we picked up half a dozen or so more passengers (some diving others snorkeling), and made for the marine reserve for the days main attraction. Now, back at the dive shop they'd shown me a short video of what you could expect from the outing; sea lions (lobo marenos, focas) were everywhere to be seen, ducking & weaving between the divers, playing much like puppies. I was slightly sceptical on what we would actually see, but I was surprisingly dumbfounded & utterly stoked with the real-time reality. What an experience!! It was worth all the money within the first few minutes. They were so fast!! They came right up to us with big black curious (almost sad) eyes, chewing on our arms & fins in a playful manner. When we sat on the sea bed, packs of them would circle above us like swarms of giant gnats. Swimming about exploring, we came across many pairs feuding with one another, cartwheeling & gnawing for supremacy; or maybe again it was all just fun & games...so much like a boisterous pooch. Pug really does = seal. They're one in the same!!


Wassup pal!!??

At the end of the dive I was bursting at the seams with adrenaline & excitement!! It's quite difficult to put properly into words...so instead, I'm not about to try. Let's just leave it at that hey?? Hours of bus, cold nights with no where to crash, expensive everything, crap weather, crap people & unpredictable bowel movements; it all pays off on pay day. Thank fuck for that ay?!! Ciao amigoes.

The magical underwater world

A Wonderful World of Tears & Joy, you never know what it's gonna bring ya'...

Best wishes to everyone back in Taz right now dealing with the aftermath of the recent bush fires...Devastating to hear about. Thinking of you all. Take care of the place for me...miss it a mil... 

Also a big fuck yea to all the cool Argentines I got to hang out with in Puerto Madryn, 
maybe you lot aren't so bad after all, haha. 

Nicko. xxx