Amigos!

As I write this, we are both furiously sending out CV´s, immersing ourselves in the UK job market, and finding a few minutes here and there to whip out an entry for the blog. As the days count down, we´re grabbing every hour..well, in truth the hours between 1 and 4 pm when siesta kicks in and everyone closes down...to prepare ourselves for the onslaught of "work". But hang on a bit, what about the real reason we´re meant to be out here! Well, we´ve still found some time to appreciate Argentina, and more importantly give you something to read about, so lets press on...

I´m not good at travelling. Not the arriving, or departing from an exciting wonderful part of the world..its the bit in between. That travelling, the buses and planes. Appreaciate transporters of the kind found in Star Trek are still some years/centuries off..but I yearn for an easier way of getting from A to B. The bus from Mendoza to Salta..a mere 18 hours, was hardcore. Admittedly, these Argentinians do it in comfort..big leather reclining seats. But timewise, they are insane! We took dinner at 11pm (!), rather hearty and appertising plata of roast beef covered in cheese served with mashed spuds (trust me, if pork and cheese can work, this can work!) and a "swiss roll" thing made with olives that sounds disgusting, but was curiously delicious. Reclining at 160 degrees, a mere 20 degrees short of luxury, makes a considerable difference and sleep was frustrating. I gave in after a while and settled for the pirate version of "Wolverine" that was playing at lip-reading volume. I say pirate for the fact none of the special effects appeared to be finished, and watching Hugh Jackman respledent in a harness with wires in every direction against a blue backdrop isn´t as entertaining as the finished product. However, it was enough to drift me off for a couple of hours before breakfast arrived at 7am..crackers, dulce de leche and a cereal bar. Marvellous. 5 star please back to BA and beyond....I´m too precious.

Moans aside, we arrived in Salta...blue skies, sun, slight nip in the air but nicely offset by the feeling of warmth on our backs for once. We loved this place from the moment we arrived. Our hostel wasn´t quite what we expected...married for 10 months, but already being forced to use bunk beds, not quite what I had in mind when we penned this as a "honeymoon". Still, the staff were charming, and eager to invite us to the BBQ party that would be happening that evening..in the garden...right next to our room. We opted to duck out of befriending yanks and europeans fresh out of university to discover Salta for ourselves. The city focuses on a main plaza, surrounded by stunning colonial architecture, not to mention a pink cathedral that resembles a wedding cake. We drifted around the square, enjoying the sunshine (missing for most of our time in Argentina so far), the cafe´s, and later a hearty steak with chips washed down with rock bottom Malbec. Gut report is we´re starting to hunt for fruit and vegtables at every opportunity...in any form be it grilled, shakes, in a roll, anything goes. How these people survive on cow, cow, cow and more cow in its various guises is beyond me! We´re sure to turn vegetarian on our return, if anything to rebalance our vitamin deprived bodies...

So, staggering back to out hostel that evening at 2am, we of course found the BBQ in full swing..and the staff equally p*ssed. Thankful that one of them decided to drunkedly open the door, otherwise we´d have spent a chilly evening furiously pounding the doorbell. We sipped from our bottle of Malbec (purchased in Mendoza) like a couple of naughty students whilst enjoying the luxury of cable TV at full volume to drown out the screaming americans and samba music next door. At half 3, everything suddenly went quiet..the only sound being the tinkering of plates and cutlery as some sozzled individual stumbled in the hallway searching for his room.

If anything, the Argentinian lifetstyle lends itself to lie-ins, which we took full advantage of due to our circumstances that precious evening. The hostel didn´t seem to be able to provide us with the double bed we wanted so we took the decision to look for lodgings elsewhere. In fact, I think we´re a bit done with the hostal culture...age being the culprit. How I yearn for a soft bed, quiet room and ensuite bathroom with piping hot shower! A mere block away, we stumbled on a new hotel which offered us a rather neat looking room for a mere 5 quid more than we were paying, and more importantly a "that" nice hot shower! We made reservations there and then, then took our a stroll up to the gondula. The views out over the Andes are breathtaking, like an oil painting as the hazy desert air makes the mountains appear almost superimposed on each other. We lounged around the summit, quaffing coffee with cream (I know, but its sweetened cream..and the coffee is out of this world...I´ve not been addicted this much since Laos!), soaking up the glorious weather and debating whether a snooze is in order before we hit the town that evening. We decided that if the locals are sleeping, then we are sleeping, and grabbed 2 hours kip before making our way out to dinner. Dinner being 10pm of course. These eatring times are throwing us right out of synch....I´m going to be eating my breakfast at midday when I get home!

Our last night in the hostel, and felt a little bit sorry to see their bemused faces the following morning as we checked out early. Single travellers would love it at Hostal Del Centro, but couples like us who appreciate a good nights sleep...maybe not. We made out new hotel our home, and set about booking up some horse-riding the following day.

Me and animals don´t work. I contemplated a career as a vet...more influenced by James Herriots ramblings as a child if anything. Only took one months work experience to decide all gods creatures detest me, and that I´m better off appreciating them in a field or behind a cage. However, I was willing to give horses a shot (not literally!). A maniac, the only word to describe his driving really, picked us up early the next morning. We were joined by a dutch couple Angenita and Justin, the latter being fluent in spanish through his studies in Buenos Aires. Angenita was a finalist on the dutch version of "How do you solve a problem like Maria"..cept for Mary Poppins, if that makes sense. A bona fide celebrity, with us, who´d have thought it. Lovely couple who were full of chat on possibly the most scary drive to the ranch I have ever experienced..and I can push 76 kph out of a campervan! Thankfully, we arrived in one piece, the guachos sensing our reluctance to be near the joker in the souped up Fiat, hustling us into the house for breakfast. We were joined by Julia, a german studying in New York (lucky sod) who had stayed overnight at the ranch and was fit to burst with beef having consumed a whole cow the night before. Pitied her, seeing as we were minutes away from mounting a horse...

As I suspected, my horse didn´t like me. It refused to move when I gently kicked it. It refused to move when I gave it more of a smack. It refused to me when I babbled incoherent spanish into its ears. What a b******. It clearly sensed I was new to this, and was toying with me. Eventually, the head guacho gave it a stern taking to..and a tap with his strap..and the gears finally engaged. Suze on the other hand had a perfect partner, and I was relagated to the back with Ange´s horse which was also..apparently..broken. No matter, the gentle amble through the countryside was wonderful, the occasional song from the guachos being a minor irritant (clearly had eyes for Angenita, serenading her at every opportunity) and after a while, me and the horse forged some sort of understanding...that being he stopped when I made him stop, which is more preferable to wanting to keep going regardless of the trees taking off my face! He kicked up a fight later mind, bucking broncos which added some spice to the adventure, deciding to calm down when my arse cheeks were raw from bouncing the saddle. Cheers for that. Galloping later was also a treat for some, but not so much for Justin and I who, as men, had bits that didn´t appreciate being smashed around a run'away horse. Still, an open BBQ in the sunshine when we returned, some smashing vino hand made by monks, and sleazy spanish from the guachos soon sorted us out. Its a real sexist culture. I´m only saying that as, bizarrely, I understood what they were cackling about..but my vocabulary isn´t sufficient enough to make a statement. Apprently the chilli sauce was natural viagra according to Enrique the owner. Only I was chomping it down. No effects mind....curses. It would have done little to soothe my aching buttocks the next day anyhow....

That episode aside, we returned to Salta, bid farewell to our dutch chums and look forward to catching up on You Tube with Angenita´s progress. The dutch Mary Poppins...not sure if that will make it to Heat magazine back home. We turned in early that evening, full of ribs, steak and chicken, and crying out for a salad! Eating that knackers you out..who´d have thought it.

The following day was lazy..and painful as we staggered round with sore behinds (!) and equally sore thighs, taking in the museum of Salta and its display of "the children". The inca religion believed in days of old that you should "sacrifice" a child to the sun gods for good fortune. The child being lulled into a slumber on alcohol, before being buried with various artifacts as gifts to the higher beings. Yes, it sounds creepy, especially as later, archeologists were able to dig them up from their hiding place some 6000m up in the Andes. The low pressure and clean air up there keeping them remarkably preserved. The musuem puts them on display, moreso to evoke reaction than for morbid curiousity. Its facinating to read about, but thankful to get away from the sights. We found solace later that evening in a "pena", or traditional folk venue which Salta champions. A real sense of love here for their culture, the "chicollo" as you will, the true meaning of life to people in Argentina. A feast of beef, dancing, flamenco, tango, singing, we got the lot and it was worth every penny. The only hinderance is, we struggled to sleep that evening, giddy over the good time we´d had. Another siesta tommorow maybe?

And onto today. We caught another show last night, but as its a weekday the atmosphere wasn´t quite the same. We´ve booked our bus to Cordoba for this evening, hopefully more of those swiss-olive-rolls for din dins, and just now putting in the usual three hours on the web getting our house in order for when we return. Much as we´re loving Argentina, we´re now excited about coming home. If anything, travelling has made us appreciate what we have back in blighty all the more, and we can´t wait to explore our own homeland..albeit with the company of friends if we´re lucky. To think parts of Europe are untouched by us, yet on our doorstep..wow, maybe our wanderlust isn´t quite satisfied! But, we have too much to catch up on..and too many people to see..and too many matters we´ve pondered over these past 7 months that need addressing. So, onto Buenos Aires, the final leg, and the final blog which Suze has the honour of posting. Keep up now...only one entry to get through.....then we´ll promise to shut up...unless the public want more..(no, thats enough now, shut up Mike)..

See you in a mere 2 weeks!

Love Mike and Suze x

p.s Both available for tea making duties should you be looking....