With Uruguay out of the equation I returned once more to the Buenos Aires fore. Complete with the obligatory stay at Sabatico for a couple of days and an invigorated Adan, who was chuffed that he had made it out of the capital and actually done some travelling. But now he was back in town and had made some local contacts, so we enjoyed an evening in the slightly scary surroundings of Banfield. Not many gringos down here...great little gang though. We needed beac...

Following the obligatory pit stop in Buenos Aires and with time no longer on my side I decided to head for the beaches of Southern Uruguay. At least I could then go home with a sun tan, and thus the image of being somebody who is healthy. So I set sail across the Rio Plata to the Argentinian Province of Uruguay (don't let a Uruguayan hear that expression though). Punta Del Este is to this part of South America what Saint Tropez is to France, Marbella is to Spain...

As I was on the cusp of Patagonia once more, I decided it would be rude not to cross to the Andean steppe and take in one last view of the glorious Andes and the stunning Argentine Lake Dsitrict. So a little out of season but with a magnitude of reason I headed to Bariloche for 'one more'. Julia was staying at the Pudu, which is named after a type of Patagonian minature deer. Turned out to be a nice spot with fantastic views over Largo Huapi - see picture above!...

Back once more to Buenos Aires, the gruesome foursome were up for some high jinx and general capers in this fine specimen of a city. The Sabatico, Red Door, Krakow, vino tinto and steak steak steak! As Kev and Claire were yet to visit the Argentine capital we embarked on a shameless city tour and Kev finally managed to get his South American football fix... So the Red Door - one of Buenos Aires most happening bars (well, that week anyway) and the last night ...

Leaving Tupiza and heading for the Argentine border, I boarded a proper 'Bolivian Special' of a bus. Clearly a death trap, we headed out of town and into the hills via a network of dry (and not so dry) riverbeds. The bus nearly tipped over on more than one ocassion, and looking at the faces of the locals it was clear that they were as scared as I was. I had met some English and some Aussies on the bus and once we got to the border it was clear we had been rippe...