So the final instalment!!!As many of you already know I'm safely back in civilisation now, but I wanted to wrap up this last blog of my Latino adventure.

Buenos Aires, the Paris of the South was to be our final destination.We all were hyped up with its reputation, the Tango, the football, the architecture, the nightlife and of course the shopping.With only 4 days and nights, we seriously doubted we'd have enough time to experience everything, but were prepared to forego trivialities such as sleep to attempt it.Our initial impressions of BA were disappointing, arriving on a Sunday night to Palermo, one of the trendiest districts, it appeared to be a ghost town!Monday was quiet too, it was raining, none of the shops were open and dog muck literally littered every pavement.Not to be deterred we pushed on through the rain and were rewarded with Recoleta cemetery, an amazing collection of ostentatious mausoleums, where the rich and famous (including Evita) rest in peace.Well most of them rest in peace, as we wandered down the aisles there was one that was open with a distinctly coffin like shape box broken across the path, eek!

We booked in to see a tango show at an intimate venue called Bar Sur, in the old bohemian district of San Telmo.It truly was intimate with only a dozen tables, and a glorious dark baroque feel.We were inches from the dance floor and when the dancers started I was absolutely captivated.If dune buggying was the best fun to be had with your clothes on, Tango had to be the most sensual.The pair moved around the postage stamp size space seemingly oblivious of anyone or anything but each other.Their legs coiling around each other and entwined themselves to the sometimes languid and other times frenetic rhythm of the music.Interspersing the dancing was music and singing.A trio of old men led by an accordion played tango classics, and glamorous ladies in the autumn of their years sang Edith Piaf type numbers that they'd probably sang for 50 years.Their eyes shone behind the thick makeup with the joy of performing.Accompanying them on the piano was the dodderiest old man, who in between sets, sat immobile in the corner looking, to be honest, like he'd be lucky to make it back to the piano stool!.

The evening couldn't have lasted long enough for me, I was entranced.It happened to be Bar Sur's 40th birthday so we got to share part of the history of such a legendary bar, with champagne toasts and speeches.We congratulated the performers and I found myself star struck and stammered to my favourite dancer "Bailas como un angel" -You dance like an angel,to the hilarity of those around me who understood what I'd said.

In the middle of our week in BA was a trip to Iguazu falls.Located on the border of Argentina, Brazil and Paraguay it was supposed to be unmissable.It's a waterfall I thought.I mean we're making a return flight for 2 days to see a waterfall!Don't get me wrong, I like a good waterfall as much as the next person, but I'd seen tons on the trip and was perilously close to becoming blasé about cascades of H2O.Apparently this was special though, so forgoing the majority of my BA shop till I drop budget, we booked the trip.

Flying and airports had become a twice a week affair and we turned up at the airport not even 48 hours since we'd left it.We checked in, the bags rolled away on the conveyor belt and disappeared then the check-in lady announced we were 40 kilos overweight.We'd travelled with the same amount of luggage with the same airline for 3 flights with no problem.O.K we said we'd get back our bags and we'll remove some stuff.After all we were only 5 days from the end of our trip and I knew full well I wouldn't dare take home most of my clothes and face Mum's look of disdain about the state they were in!But no, the bags had gone and if they got them back we could miss our flight.I was furious, even notoriously strict Ryan Air gives passengers the opportunity to reduce overweight luggage and look like hump backed Michelin men boarding the plane with layers of clothes piled on and carry on bags crammed with all the heaviest items.Being a backpacker, I had adopted a, let's say, frugal attitude to money, and wasting it was frustrating. Ms Jobs worth ,on check in, was needless to say unsympathetic and claimed complete powerlessness, it was only the three of us really not backing down that she made a call and said she could reduce it to 30kg.This was an airline that actually owed us money as they'd bumped JA down from a business class ticket to economy, they'd decided to not actually refund the full difference in the ticket and despite cashier desks everywhere in the airports ,claim that they couldn't give her the refund anywhere but in special city offices.It was fair to say we did reach the point of becoming obstinate clients and it became more about the point than the money.I had the 30kg excess scrawled on my boarding pass and we were supposed to go the cashier and settle up, or continue our dispute with a supervisor, but decided to sod it and scribble out the annotation on the pass and get on the plane.Well we would have done, if I, "far too honest for my own good", hadn't had got cold feet.We sought out the Supervisor, who not only couldn't see our point about not having the opportunity to reduce the weight, or how we'd flown on their airline domestically with the same weight without a whisper, dared to suggest that maybe we should get back-charged for excess baggage for the flights we'd already taken! We tried to wear her down with a battery of English and Spanish but realised that the sole purpose of this woman's role was to be stubborn and obstinate in the face of situations like this and we were getting dangerously close to missing our flight, we gave up.She took my boarding pass victoriously and wrote 40kg excess.Our protestations that it had been reduced to 30kg drew a blank stare and even after checking with the Check-in chick and verifying that someone at the end of the phone had lowered it to 30kg, Attila the Airport Hun was having none of it.We rushed to the gate, blatantly ignoring the cashiers desk and I tried to look innocent as I handed over my boarding pass, which by this stage was covered in biro scrawls and crossings out.I was actually surprised that our arrival at the gate hadn't provoked flashing red lights and the arrival of airport police after the fuss we'd made.No alarms though, just me being sent directly to the cashier's desk without passing go.Aerolineas 1/ Tori, Anne and JA nil!!!.

We boarded and looked in disbelief at our seats in row 2, they were business class!!!Resolving to accept the good fortune without question and Aerolineas slowly creeping up in our good books, we watched smugly from our extra spacious seats, the rest of the far better dressed passengers, passing us on their way to cattle class.JA and Anne were asleep within seconds but there was no way I was missing a moment of luxury.We taxied out, and then before we'd even got a glass of champagne handed to us, taxied back again.There was something wrong with the plane and we were being swapped onto another one.We disembarked, got on an airport bus for the precisely 20 metre distance to the plane next door and were greeted to the sight of row 2 on the new plane being bog standard economy - sigh! Still I did get my own back in one way, as if they weren't delayed enough, I cunningly left my handbag under that great business class seat on the other plane, so someone had to go and fetch it.Probably not too irritating for them, but there's a fine line between messing with airlines and risking becoming a terrorist suspect nowadays.

So to Iguazu Falls and firstly the best hostel in South America, it was a converted casino, and we were greeted by the sight of everyone chilling around the fabulous pool.The waterfalls which we saw one day from the Brazilian side, the next from the Argentinean and incredibly, from right underneath in a jet boat ,were unbelievable. 275 waterfalls within 2.7kms up to 82 metres tall.The walkways get right into the heart of the falls and at one point we were in the middle of 260 degrees of waterfall.I won't pretend to describe the spectacle, you'll have to wait for the photos, but I wasn't surprised when so many people said they were more magnificent than Niagara (Apparently on seeing the Iguazu, First lady Eleanor Roosevelt exclaimed "Poor Niagara").We soaked up the tropical rays, enjoyed our last opportunity to be around the wonderful flora and fauna of the Iguazu National park, monkeys, lizards and beautiful colourful butterflies absolutely everywhere.

After we'd had the opportunity to decide for ourselves about the Argentinean/Brazilian rivalry for who had the best views, it was straight to the airport.I'd culled almost all my clothing which was half the reason I'd spent the last 2 days in running shorts and we all checked in separately taking it in turns to hide with our numerous items of hand luggage.I went first; I'd got my rucksack down to 11kg, 4 kilos under the limit and was very smiley.JA was second and 4-5 kilos over, no excess was flagged and by the time Anne checked in, she dared to put on some of hand luggage too.She was about double the weight allowance and there wasn't a peek out of them - typical.We were also treated by the pilot, to a fly by ,of the falls, which if possible looked even more impressive from the air.Silence reigned as the plane banked and the sight of the falls filled the windows of the plane, and we curved right round them.The pilot had extinguished the seat belt sign temporarily and everyone was crowded to the right of the plane.As we flew away the plane erupted in applause, a truly magnificent vision.

I had a fabulous last few days in Buenos Aires, days exploring the city from the glamorous modern suburbs, European style boulevards, markets and my favourite, colourful, ramshackle La Boca, original home of the immigrants who arrived from Europe and mixed together in the melting pot that created the unique rhythms and cultures of Buenos Aires.La Boca is also the home of Boca Juniors football team and the religion that has sprung up around the idol Maradona.Nights were spent seeing more incredible, flamboyant tango shows, clubs with acts that could compete with those of Cirque de Soleil and local Salsa haunts where the regulars certainly made me realise how much more I had to learn.

My two remaining outfits had got me through to the end and I tore myself away from San Telmo Antique market, said farewell to JA and Anne, my great travelling pals who were heading back to Sydney, to catch a cab for the airport.Surreally 22 hours later I was on the London Underground, minding the gap at Bank, on an autopilot programmed a decade ago, leading me to the correct homeward bound platform at Liverpool St Station.I was looking, in a word, shabby, next to the suited and booted commuters and thought how weird it was that I was soon to become one of them.

So after just over 3 months, 15 flights, 28 bus journey (about 200 hours worth of a numb bum), some pretty other crazy forms of transport, 14 border crossings and 42 different beds, I was finally arriving in my childhood home, and very excited to surprise my parents.Adapting to being on the move I'd developed the habit of nesting, which basically meant wherever I happened to be from bus seat to boat berth to bunk bed I had everything I valued and needed within a foot of me.Finally I was free to let my rucksack explode in a place so familiar I could find my way round in the dark.

Apart from my new ability to nest, I'd developed some other skills, like knowing all the weird keyboard strokes South Americans use for @ (ignore completely what it says on the keyboard and it was generally Ctrl + Alt + 2 or Alt Gr then 6 then 4 - maybe not an exciting skill but pretty fundamental to use email) and how to use a bus station bathroom with a wet disgusting floor, no toilet seat ,keeping my rucksack and other bags on me (balance and strong quads).Seriously though, the main things I've accomplished are much harder to sum up in words and I'm so grateful for the amazing experience.

Thanks for reading my blog; I've certainly enjoyed writing it.Sorry for any rambling and yes I know some entries have been looonnnngggg (but it's just preparing your patience for the photo show!).I appreciated everyone's emails too, which are so lovely to receive far from home.You'll be glad to know this is the end but I couldn't go without some packing advice for any females out there planning to backpack.

1)You will go out, so pack some going out clothes, don't worry about the extra weight; you'll appreciate the exercise to counteract long days of sitting on buses.

2)5 pairs of knickers is NOT enough and don't think you'll be able to buy more out there, they are either see through G-strings or granny pants.

3)SHE-PEES, believe me your bladder will thank you.

Abrazos , hasta luego

Tori