Back once again from the renegade master...I cut my neck shaving so now I need a plaster....I would keep this mad rhyming up, but I'm feeling tired as a drowning pup...it's getting real morbid now, but hey man, don't have a cow...I's about to vanish to watch the Simpsons in Spanish...eh hombre, no tienes una vaca. Buenas dias amigos...that was pretty much how the hilarious journal entry I wrote yesterday started...hilarious for two reasons. One, because I had been inflicted with the Gunatanamo Bay torture method of sleep deprivation by Argentinian and Chilean border patrol officers, and two, because I was wired after several strong coffees. Anyway, more about that a little later. Unfortunately, those inspired words, (which had poured forth over an impressive 45 or so minutes in an internet cafe...it was a long entry...) were unfortnately wiped when I pressed "Next", thanks to some genius website designer working for STA. Hats off to that man. Let's not be sexist...hats off to that person. Anyway...where were wee we? (Took only one letter out each time there...clever eh? "Alliterative Word Games". DG Inc., coming to any good book shop near you this Summer). I think the last entry was from Buenos Aires, on my last day there...whence I was about to depart for Mendoza. Depart, I did. And arrive, thankfully, after a reasonable night's journey, in Mendoza on the Saturday morning. Mendoza lived up to the expectations I'd had built up for me by all the taxi drivers and travellers raving about the place - a beautiful city with myriad parks and plazas, filled with bead selling, djembe playing rastas and rasta wannabees. (Have no fears Jon...they've got a few years to go until they reach my status). So Saturday I spent wandering around the main square, playing djembes, buying beads and juggling with various dudes and dudettes, preparing myself for the hardcore day I had planned for the morrow. Sunday morning at 8:00, as the day begins (Beatles? Might have been 5:00 in their lyrics...) I was up and ready for a day of trekking and abseiling, ending up in some thermal spas. Deliberately. The trekking was a little disappointing, given the snail's pace set by the guide, but the abseiling was fantastic, and despite my memories of freaking out half way down a mountain face (you say hill, I say mountain, you say toe-may-toe I say tomato) in Dartmoor when I was 11, I even enjoyed the daunting 30m face we descaled. (Surely if you can scale it one way you can descale it t'other? Nay?). In the evening I met up with Renata and Gaby, her Spanish friend who is visiting for a fortnight, and we went for a typically late Argentinian buffet and steak meal, getting to the restaurant at about half midnight. Thank God I'm leaving this place, I'd be taking siestas after lunch soon if I got any more into the way of life. Actually, that sounds like Mum and Dad. No offence. ;) Monday morning, bright and early, (1:30pm), I got up and two English girls from my hostel who were just about to go paragliding inquired as to whether I might join them. After a cup of tea and some jam scones we buzzed Jeeves in and set off up the mountainside. Jumping off a big hill strapped to a 20 year old Argentinian not having been in my agenda 2 hours earlier, everything went pretty smoothly, considering, and I thoroughly enjoyed the sailing. We rode the thermals for about 20 minutes before my young amigo asked if I would like to spin. Yes, I answered. Oh, what a mistake. After what felt like an hour of spinning perpendicular to the 'chute and horizontal to mother Earth (probably more like 30 seconds), my head and stomach were both ready to touch terra firma again, and this we achieved without too many problems. No broken limbs or shattered radii this time you'll be very pleased to know, Mother. Monday evening saw me once more meeting up with Ren and Stimpy (only kidding Gaby, you knows I love you), for an assado (mixed grill...including intestines munched down with lemon and salt) cooked by an Argentinian transvestite. An interesting experience...thankfully he had decided not to wear his frock that night though. Having sampled some of Mendoza's finest wine (one of the finest in Argentina, and purchased for the princely sum of 8 pesos...less than two squid) we slept very well indeed, and were ready to tour the Parque San Martin the next day. I've just realised how long this is getting, so I'll finish in short sentences. I'm not promising it'll be any less of a task to read it though. Park was good. Very pretty. Saw fountain which once spouted. Red wine. For 24 hours to celebrate. Harvest. Now known as: Fountain of Wine. Clever name. Tuesday evening said goodbye to Renata and Gaby and chilled in hostel. Wednesday, waiting for bus at 10:30pm to Santiago de Chile, spent morning and afternoon in park with various school kids who. Had an unexpected day off. Was fun. See photos. Caught bus. Big error. Back to normal sentences, this takes even longer to type than writing normally. Yep, the night bus. Not only did catching this mean I was to miss out on the spectacular landscape that the northern Argentinian and Chilean borders run through, but it was also to mean that I would sleep a grand total of 10 minutes. After being kept awake by the bus company who were hell bent on telling us how to fill out the entry forms, the actual frontier was policed by some of the most inept, and yet thorough, government officials I have ever had the misfortune to come across. After a couple of hours standing around in the freezing cold, and being made to unpack my bag to prove I wasn't smuggling in any slightly rotting bananas or baby monkeys, we were finally allowed back on to the bus. Once we arrived in Santiago (cold and a little damp - Santiago, not we) some slightly retarded baggage handler (sorry, I believe "special" is the preferred term) tried to get a tip from me for making me stand around for another half an hour as he read out the numbers on bag after bag after bag. He got a verbal tip alright, but I'm not sure he understood. Thankfully. Anyway, Magnus (Danish dude I met in Rio who it turned out was on the same bus as me) and I got a taxi to the hostel I'd planned on staying in, only to find it was fully booked. Given that it was 6am, I wasn't best pleased to hear this, but thankfully the day began to get better, and we were referred to another just down the road. But we couldn't check in until 1pm. So juggling balls in hand, we set off to the centre of the city, and proceeded to entertain the early morning commuters with varying degrees of skilled haki playing and juggling, eventually managing to get some to join in with us. So yeah! Santiago. When the sun is out, it's another very pretty city, but Chile is about twice the price of Argentina, so a good job we are only here for a couple of nights. Farida joined me yesterday from Buenos Aires, and we are to fly out to New Zealand tonight...while it's not so good to be leaving South America, we cannae wait to get to New Zealand...even if we are going to miss Easter Day entirely - still, at least the Easter eggs will be half price by the time we touch down. Enjoy the photos my friends, thank you for bearing with me through this one...I'll write again from the land of the Maoris. Much love to all of you.