vicky and chris south american adventure

Finally the day of my Inca had arrived and I have to say I was a little apprehensive. Thrilled I had managed to book on a trail on the same dates as Ali so I wouldnt be sitting arround in Cusco any longer, but dreading four days on my own with a bunch of strangers who have probably prepped for this extreme sports inca for weeks. Ali was getting picked up anytime between 5:20-6:00am so I was up at 5am with her which was a blessing really as I hadnt bothered to pack the night before. Eventually Alis luxury coach arrives and im left waiting until what I thought was going to be 7:30am for my ride, but they turned up at 6:50 and I, caught snoozing was left to grab my things and went hurtling our without my coat, only I wouldnt realise that until later. My coach (and I use that term lightly) was so unlike Ali´s, far from luxurious and it resembled more an old battered school mini bus with mountain bikes attached to its back rather than a coach.

So day one of the inca trail had us travelling from Cusco to Santa Maria. We were driven through the sacred valley, cradle of the inca civilization and eventually dropped off at the 4316m above sea level high of Abra Malaga where we were to begin our cycle. There was little time for introductions as we were quickly given the kit required to partake in the cycling, gloves, elbow pads, knee pads and motorcycle helmet! After a brief safety description (basically right is back brake, left is front brake and take care) delivered by our tour guide Ever (pronounced Eber) we were given our bikes. Full suspension mountain bikes with only the odd one or two having a buckled wheel or no working brakes. I cycle fairly competatively back in the UK on a road bike so was confident the cycling wasnt going to be an issue for me, but straight away I had difficulty cycling the mountain bikes, although they looked robust enough, they didnt even come close to the security I feel when on my own bike.

You cycle basically free wheeling down semi quiet but challenging roads, past changing landscapes and ice capped mountains. Taking care not to admire the scenery for too long as there are so many twists, turns, hairpins, ravines and streams that one false steer and on one side you have a vertical drop off a mountain, the other a half metre squared draining ditch, its hard enough just concentrating on cycling on the right hand side of the road! If this is any insight as to what I may experience on the death road in Bolivia its a little scary. I would definately recommend some other form of down hill cycling such as this prior to anyone undertaking the death road. About 10minutes into the ride we were forced to halt when one of the group (an Irish girl called Eiryls) fell into the ditch. She ended up with a bandaged ankle and had to sit the rest of the ride out, luckily it was the ditch she fell in rather than the other side of the road. After about 30k with the temperature slowly warming as the height decreases we stopped for a box lunch of chicken fried rice with a bit of mayo. This was in Alfamayo, again with endless panoramas to take in. Here we were able to introduce ourselves to the rest of the group. Our tour consisted of 3 Argentine girls, 2 German guys, an American guy, and Irish couple, an English couple (on their honeymoon) and me.

We continued downwards towards Huamanmarca, site of a recently discovered archaeological Inca finding, before eventually descending to 1500m above sea level where the jungle´s edge looms and we were to catch a ride into the small town of Santa Maria. Throughout the ride we cycled over road where water falls were running over, getting completley soaked at the same time. The last 10k or so really levelled out and the intensity of the cycling finally kicks in. It was here that I realised I wasnt on my road bike anymore and the off road mountain biking we were doing was a real strain on the old calfs, still, keeping true to my competative nature I was totally the first one back.

Once back we had time for a quick change into something a little more water proof before some of us were rushing out to take part in a bit of white water rafting. Again we were kitted out, this time in helmet, lifejacket and coat before a brief run through of the rafting commands we would need to use when on the water. Ive never rafted before so was a little aprehensive especially when the instructor was telling us about 20 different things to do dependant on how you fell in the water! I made a mental note there and then not to fall in as I didnt have a clue how to get myself out again if I did, thankfully though I wasnt the only inexperienced rafter. This was one of my favourite things on the Inca, the waves although no bigger than lever 3 (whatever that means) managed to soak us through and provide us with a thrilling experience, definately making me want to rush out and book on a white water rafting excursion after I was through with the inca. At one point the guide gave us the option of jumping in the river, all the guys dove in whilst us three remaining girls decided to have a little chill out session. All of a sudden the guide was shouting SWIM, SWIM as rapids were fast approaching. At the same time he was shouting at us to grab the oars and power the boat around to catch the guys (a lot more physically demanding with only 4 people in the raft) and drag them into the boat.

That night we had a good meal cooked up for us in the basic hostel we were staying in (I was sharing with the 3 Argentinian girls, who speak no English) before getting a most humids nights sleep before the following days trekking. Day 2 was a hiking day from Santa Maria (our hostel literally in a gas station) to Santa Teresa and the Inca trail. We were up and at brekfast for 6:30 shaking off the previous days physical exhaustion. We then all climbed into a pick up truck, how we all fit ill never know. Several of us were standing in the pick up compartment or trying to squat on the edge, though with every bump we drove over we were treated to a numb bum or risk of falling out! We ended up driving a fair distance up a road were we saw other groups having to walk. I have to say we were all relieved at this no matter how dangerous the drive, as it was a long dull and dusty walk we missed out. It didnt half give you a bit of satisfaction as well to drive past the others knowing the distain they had for us right then. When the truck stopped it was on the edge of the jungle where the trail begins getting progressively steeper until you would give anything for a bit of flat land, really physically demanding. About 9am we arrived at a house of someone who seriously needs to rethink their location, were we were treated to a taster of guinea pig (after first watching the woman catch it running about her kitchen, kill it then cook it) and some fruit refreshments. We ate pineapple which never tasted so good and masasamba fruit, which had the texture of raw meat but was refreshing all the same. After that we contined to hike for hours, with the slower of the group walking with Ever, (who was a little out of shape) the rest of us walking with the other guide Willy, (much younger but with limited English.) Eventually we reached the real Inca Trail, which winds around precipitous slopes and sheer drops for approximately half a mile. Some of the group suffered from vertigo and the pace slowed considerably as many clinged to the mountain for support. I was more concerned about vomming from the amount of cocoa leaves I had chewed to help with the altitude. It doesnt matter how helpful they are, that taste is unnaturally bad. The descent continued for just over two hours until you we reached an area called yellow stone were we had lunch. We were treated to guacamole made from the avocado trees right outside, hands down the nicest guacamole ive ever had. That, fresh lemonade and spaguetti bolognese before having a little snooze on some hammocks nearby.

Resuming the excusion our guides let us swim in the river Rio Vilcanota which was freezing, but a welcome relief to the heat and humidity outside it. Almost perfect until I realised my bikini top was becoming undone due to the strength of the rapids, relief that I caught it in time before I introduced too much of myself to the group. We proceeded along the river over bridges right out of an Indiana Jones movie, wooden with no sides and a drop to your doom beneath, until we came to a basic cable cart crossing. Paying a sole to sit in a wooden buggy and drag yourself along to the other side. Finally we reached our destinated of the luxurious hot springs in Santa Teresa. Its crazy to think that theres hot springs in the middle of nowhere like here. You descended the mountain to overlook 3 gigantic pools, each bigger and hotter than the last. We spent a good few hours here until our skin was shrivelled like prunes before heading to our very basic hostel, potentially even worse than the previous nights and that one came complete with cockroach in the bathroom. This one came complete with giant man eating spider on the wall. Lukily I was sharing with one of the Argentinian girls who whipped off her walking boot and crushed it in an instant. It was here we met ùp with another group, envious about our car ride at the start and river rest in the middle. We all had a few drinks and I was sitting next to a Irish Australian guy who randomly asked us to guess his age. Someone answered but I missed what was said, so thinking he looked about 50 I went in with a flattering 38, (the conversation had practically moved on at this point with me far to drunk to realise) turns out he was 29 and mucho offended. Oh well dont let people guess then! That night everyone was drunk but it ended up being myself the American guy Andrew whose birthday it was and the two guides staying up the latest. I was so drunk had to be walked to my room (honestly the hostel improved with beer) not excellent preparation for the next days excursions.

Day three was the trek from Santa Teresa to Aguas Calientes with a few zip lines in between. We were up at 7:30 for brekfast, a little worse for wear before a brief drive to wear we were to do our zip lining. We were given harneses to wear, a hemet and gloves before hiking uphill for about an hour until we reached the first zip line, situated at about 300m off the ground. In total there were six zip lines which varied in both length and speed hanging above the valley below. Initially I was a little apprehensive much like the rest of the group. You were literally only attached to the cable via one clip with no safety net below. After the first shove however the adrenaline kicks in and I loved it. Mid air whizzing along at great speed towards a tiny platform on the other side in which to land on. I was one of only a handful of people to let go of all inhibitions and fly upside down with no hands, such a rush. A really fun experience, perfect for a hangover (yeah right) but not for the faint hearted or anyone afraid of heights!

After that we continue walking along another inca trail, only discovered within the last few years and then onto the train tracks where the hydroelectric train runs to Aguas Calientes, the base town for Machu Picchu. Although a predominantly flat route, the terrain is uneven and really saps what little energy you have left from the previous days excursions. Eventually we arrived in Aguas Calientes and all I was thinking was please give me a private room to just flake out in before up at 4:30am for Machu Picchu. Aguas Calientes is such a tourist trap as nearly veryone who frequesnt Machu Picchu has to go through here either on route there or on the way back. All the restaurants have a 20% Machu Picchu tax added on to them. We walked past hotels gradually becoming less and less luxurious until we arrived at out hostel. The American guy asked whether he could get a private room and was told no, I was crushed for a split second until I was handed my key to my private! I kept it quiet for a good few minutes at least.

Day four was an early start, we were givn a box lunch the night before to sustain us through the day, but told to bring our own snacks. We began the torturous trek up the 2000 (steep) steps to Machu Picchu. I could have happily given up along the way and just forgotten all about Machu at this point. My legs were burning. Our guides had slept in as their alarm didnt go off so we left slightly later, missing out on any potentil sunrise at the top. Once you started walking however just getting to the top was going to be reward enough. The first sight of the Machu Picchu sight is spectacular, any image on a picture or poster just cannot do it justice. Its entirely different seeing it first hand yourself and worth paying to get the train up for those not interested in trekking. The clouds broke and it was the hottest day imaginable. Perfect for me, not functioning that early in the morning to not bring sun cream. Needless to say I returned full on clashing with my own hair I was that red! Mixed in with the terraces are countless llamas who decided at one point to stampeed right past us as someone whipped out a banana. After our tour around we had free time to in my case pass at climbing Wayna Picchu as I was too enhausted and to explore the inca site.

The day ended with a train to Ollantaytambo and then the bus to Cusco, the entire group exhausted and dishevelled but complete with a sense of accomplishment of what we had endured over the past four days. I have returned with the most severe sunburn imaginable and considerably less money in my purse as both the rafting and zip lining and the beer were add on excursions, but well worth the doing.

Literally had the worst bus experience by far getting to Puno from Arequipa. Eight hours with no air conditioning in intense heat on roads with switch back after swith back. After about ten minutes I nearly had to ask him to pull over and let me out, in the end I had to just fall asleep, raging that Ali had her Ipod to listen to to distract her and I had the annoying buzz of music coming out of her ear phones. The first thing I´d say to describe Puno is literally what a dump! You can really see the difference when entering a poorer economy. Shanty style houses dotting the mountains and roads on the way in and the actual town is not much nicer, though there is the odd architechtural gem and the main square is pleasant. Puno is bursting with people all hours in to the night and although not much to look at aesthetically it is a vibrant place to be.

We had a hotel booked here called Europa which was nice but on our second day had the main door windows smashed in. The main reason we were in Puno was to explore Lake Titicaca, so we booked an excursion for an overnight homestay with an indigenous Quechan family. The first day of the tour had us with a group of about 20 embarking on a 3hour boat ride to the Uros floating islands on the lake. Lake Titicaca is a lake located on the border of Peru and Bolivia. It sits 3,811 m (12,500 ft) above sea level, making it the highest commercially navigable lake in the world. It was hard to imagine that we were at altitude when in a boat on lake so vast it looked like an ocean. We docked on one of the floating Uros islands made up of totora reeds which grow in the shallows of the lake. My first step nearly had me plummeting head over feet as the ground covered with reeds has a very bouncy sinking texture to it. We had a look at some of the locals houses and how they lived, clearly Id never survive there. The islands are connected via ropes to stop them from floating apart. There is a lot to be said for living in land! We also took a trip to another floating island via local double decker boat, also made up from totora reeds and plastic bottles. At one point one of the group volunteered to have a go at rowing, he ended up rowing right accoss to the other island, sweating the entire time and then had to pay for the pleasure of doing so. I was glad I never had that idea.

After Uros Islands we continued for several more hours (the lake is so vast) to the island of Amantani. It was here that we were to stay over night with a local family. Amantani has two mountain peaks, called Pachatata (Father Earth) and Pachamama (Mother Earth) with ancient ruins on the top of both peaks. The hillsides that rise up from the lake are terraced and planted with wheat, potatoes, and vegetables. Most of the small fields are worked by hand and the island is self sustainable. There are no cars and no hotels, all visits are home stays. There are a few small stores selling basic goods with a health clinic and school. Most families use candles or flashlights to see when it gets dark (we didnt bring one) and very few have electricity. All as I was thinnking was if Im staying in anything like the straw huts we saw on Uros Island I was getting the next boat out of here. The people speak Quechua here with Spanish as their second language. Ali and I found ourselves with a young woman called Sophia and her son (we never saw her husband) and we literally could offer no conversation. In Quechan the word for hello is about 10 sylables long and unlike any language ive ever heard. Just walking to her house was exhausting, over fields and walls, by the time we got there I was ready for a sleep, not the trek up pachatata that was organised after lunch. Our room was lovely complete with electric light, the toilet however was about a 5minute walk away in a field with a bucket of water at the ready to flush! A nightmare when trying to find in the dark. The families provide cooked meals for their guests, providing food that they would eat on a day to day basis. It is very rare that they eat meat and we were treated to soup for starters and grilled cheese with vegetables for main, followed my a mint tea. Again I ate the skin of these random vegetables, then afterwards watched Sophia throw away all the other skins. Honestly I need instructions for new foods.

After dinner we started hiking up pachamata to watch the sunset. At one point someone got a horse taxi to the top bringing back memories of a certain cousin of mine who did the same thing. I thought about it but I ripped her enough that I just couldnt justify it. On returning to the main square Sophia greeted us as did the other locals and we were all taken back to our families were we had a dinner very similar to our lunch before. Afterwards we were told we were having a traditional dance party just off the main square. We were dressed up in traditional clothing in order to participate. Sophia tied my waist belt so tight I couldnt even take in a full breath and I was supposed to dance in this! The men wore ponchos with self-made alpaca-hats whilst we were in brightly coloured skirts, white shirts, pattened waist belts and black shawls. The walk to the main square was strenuous enough, walking single file along the edges of terraces with only Sophias torch to guide us in front. There was a couple of times I nearly plummeted into the vegetation. The dance was excellent with a live band and beer on hand.

The following day we said our goodbyes using a variety of charades as my Quechan wasnt quite there yet, before travelling another hour on the lake to the other island of Taquile where we were to trek for hours before settling into a meal on one fo the uppermost terraces overlooking the ocean like lake. Eventually after abut 6hours getting back to the spendours of Puno we said our goodbyes but not before arranging a meal with a few people in the group, a chilian girl an Australian guy, a Colombian guy, a Cuban and 2 Japanese girls. Apparantly there was a really good alpaca restaurant in Puno and we definately needed to give that a taster.

Ali was feeling the effects of a couple of days at sea so to speak so she sat the meal out. I made my way to the meeting place at about 9pm just off the main square when a homeless guy started to grab at my back, I just ignored him and carried on, then another guy started trying to talk and dance with me. I have to say I was a little intimidated and was getting hassled a few more times up the street. For the first time in my life I was early for an event and this was my punishment. Just before it could have gotten scary my knight in shining armour came up (the Colombian guy Enrique) from our tour and took my arm. Nobody came anywhere near me after that. We were still early so went for coffee, being treated to a conversation were I speak limited Spanish and him limited English. Finally everyone arrived for dinner were we all ordered Alpaca. Probably the best meal Ive had in South America so far. When done well this is really nice and you totally get over the fact essentially you are eating a smaller version of a llama.

After dinner we had a few drinks in a local bar with myself and the Chilian girl trying to sort out if we woud be in LaPaz together at the same time to try guinea pig. Following my walk to the restaurant I had Enrique and the Cuban guy walk me home, definately seemed the safer bet. Next stop, Cusco and Inca.

With money at an all time low for both Chris and I, it was time to decide where our next plans lay. I wanted to explore some other countries and I definately wanted to do an inca trail, that wasnt on the agenda for Chris so we decided we would go our separate ways for a couple of months. I had been googling flights all week on the dodgy internet connection in the hostel, my destination... Peru. I have a friend currently travelling there and intended to link up with her with the aim of exploring Peru, Bolivia and Chile together. Chris was going to head back to Buenos Aires to stay with friends he loved it so much, eventually meeting up again in Costa Rica to spend christmas together. I finally settled on a flight with only one stop over in Lima before onto Arequipa. The flight cost me more than it did to fly from the UK to South America in the first place. There was one flight cheaper but that included 5stopovers spread over 2days and even then I was only saving a tena! My flight was scheduled for 7:30am so I had to borrow Lise´s (the owner) spare mobile phone to use as an alarm, raging still that I lost mine and she has spares! The plan was to get up at 3:30 finish packing because i´m never organised with the taxi ordered for 4am. I said my goodbyes the night before, (clearly not getting a fanfare at that time in the morning) and threatening to jump on Chris and wake him if he mentioned one more time about the lie in he was going to have. Javier told me the taxi would cost no more than $R50, I had $R60 on me just to be safe. The driver couldnt speak a word of English and together with my Portospanglish we just about managed to decipher the destination. I sat there in the early hours of the morning counting that in every three seconds the taxi metre would go up by $R0.30. In my head I was picturing having to translate, stop when the metre gets to $R60 and I´ll just get out. In the end it was $R57.70, thank god I had enough as the last few miles were solid dual carriage way with no pavement.

Once in the airport i had the added stress of not knowing whether I had a ticket booked or not. It took me about 40minutes to queue for the automatic ticket machine, thankfully my ticket was there but I still had no eticket confirmation that so many other passengers were wandering around with. I then had to get in the queue to check in which was barely moving. A man came up to me asking if this was the flight to Arequipa, he was speaking in Spanish or Portugese, I said I was English but I could decipher enough of what he said to tell him that he was in the right line. After that I then started to question myself thinking what if it wasnt, but at least I wouldnt have been the only one missing my plane. We waited a while longer when at 6:40 the same guy started talking to me again, this time in English. He said he was from Colombia and throughout South America they are notorious for being really slow in airports. He was concerned he was going to miss his flight, I was concerned I didnt have a flight to miss even then. The guy then said and I quote "its probably all these people who dont speak any Spanish or Portugese slowing things up." Even though I had already told him I was English, I still had the pleasure of telling him I was one of those people who didnt speak any Spanish or Portugese. He at least had the decency to look embarrased.

Once at the front I tried to ask / determine whether my rucksack would be automatically transfered to my connecting flight. The attendant said yes but I knew she didnt have a clue what I was saying. Only just managed to make that flight and that was because they delayed the take off. The stopover in Lima was much worse. Due to the delay I had less than an hour to realise that my baggage wasnt being transfered. I had to wait for it off the conveyor belt, find my way back to departures and re check in, followed by another trip to customs for the customary removal of belt, boots and a little frisking. I got sent to the back of the queue twice after getting to the front because my European passport needed extra stickers (who knew) before eventually sneaking into the pregnant women and disability line to speed things up, before literally running to make my plane.

When I landed in Arequipa straight away you can see the difference between here and Rio. Arequipa lies in the Andes mountains at an altitude of 2335m above sea level, with the volcano Eli Misti overlooking the city. One of the best things about Arequipa is the weather. It is almost always sunny with the exception of February, (rainy season) with averages temperatures 20 degrees C. I had spent an entire week in Rios monsoons hoping for a sun sea and sand holiday and it was in Arequipa all along! The first thing I did was to email Chris and tell him what he was missing. Ali met me at the airport and together we took a taxi to our hostel. Straight away I knew I was no longer travelling with Chris. Our hostel was a twin room with ensuite complete with massive tv and to top it all off there was a starbucks not even 5minutes walk away. The best part of travelling is definately experiencing new things and exploring new places so unlike home, but everynow and then you need a little something from home just to make the days easier and starbucks is that for me (even if it is American.)

Our first day we took a tour bus around the city to see what it was like. The main city is filled with colonial architechture with the surrounding suburbs covered with inca terraces. The plaza de Armas is one of the most beautiful in all of Peru with a twin-towered Cathedral overlooking the square. Arequipa is nicknamed the white city as its buildings are made from sillar, a white volcanic rock. All of this and there is a shopping mall and cinema! The bus tour had us visiting all the main spots where the locals lay out stalls and stalls of home made alpaca clothing hassling you to but on every turn. At one point I stood still for too long and a woman threw an eagle on my arm for just 5 soles with a photo. I was in a tshirt and the bloody thing had claws of steel!

We also decided to do a two day colca canyon tour as it is one of the main attractions of Arequipa. Colca canyon is one of the deepest in the world plunging to a depth of 10,725 feet and is more than 100 km in length, double the depth of the Grand Canyon. This was my first time at altitude and after the first days trekking (in which I walked on ahead with a couple of the group as the others were so unbelievably slow, to the point were we went about 3miles further than neccessary and the tour guide had to come and find us) I was really starting to feel unwell. I wasnt out of breath but I had the worlds worst headache coupled with the feeling that I was going to throw up at any time. Thrilled that that night the group was going out for meal together when I was feeling this ill. I found an amazing piece of fruit which was the size of an apple but was more similar to a melon. A local told me to eat it as it was lovely. I started eating it like an apple and a Brazillian couple I was sitting near enquired as to what it was. They then proceeded to get one and start peeling it in front of me. They literally watched me eat skin and middle without saying anything then went to get their own and peeled it! Also even though we were in the middle of nowhere there was an Irish pub where we had a few drinks to at least justify my headache before I was off to bed in preparation for tomorrows trekking to the canyon. The journey to the canyon itself is spectacular, full of rugged terrain that my none trekking shoes were making painful work of, dotted with volcanoes and believed to be inhabited only by llama and vicuna (what ever they are.)

The canyon itself is the natural habitat of the great Andean condor, I was still laughing that Ali mistook it for concorde and was expecting a huge jet to fly overhead. I literally couldnt see anything until I was casually looking the other way bored when one glided over my head not 5metres away, it was massive I nearly had a heart attack. There was several, all gliding down from a high height looking for prey never once flapping their wings. The condor is considered sacred by the local population, I was 5 minutes watching then over it, glad to be back on the bus heading back for a little starbucks before bed.

Our next few days in Rio were spent with full on monsoon rain, no more of the sunshine I expected to find here. Rio in the rain is gloomy, cloudy and loses most of its magic, becoming a cold miserable place. We decided whilst it was raining to do some shopping at an indoor mall. It was packed with people but none of the shops were open. We actually went back again and the same thing happened, I really dont get the appeal of window shopping but the Brazillians seemed to love it. One day we were too early and they were still on a siesta, the other was a random bank holiday that even the Brazillians couldnt explain.

I celebrated my birthday whilst in Rio so Chris and I went out for a meal in Ipanema (we had a brief spell with no rain.) The thing you notice most when eating out in South America is the service. They are quick to coax you in to their restaurant, hand you a menu and order your food, but then you wait ages for it to get there and the timing is terrible. One of you may get a main meal the other a drink, and by the time the other meal has arrived, your partner has finished but is still waiting on the drink. Well something similar happened for the birthday meal. We ordered empanadas to start (a cullinary classic in Brazil) and i ordered a steak for main whilst chris ordered a pizza. Happily tucking into our epanadas when my steak arrives not even five minutes later. Rushing through my empanada, expecting Chris´s main to arrive at any point when I have to start on the steak or else let it get cold. By the time weve finished our starter and me my main, our drinks arrive and then Chris´s pizza! Theres nothing more annoying watching somebody else eat, especially when my meal ended up being sliced steak with garlic breadcrumbs on the side (I swear it was not described like that on the menu.) Even that wasnt the worst thing, I ordered a passion fruit caipirinha recommended to me by an Argentinian friend as the best caipirinha (in his opinion.) It looked like frogs spawn in a glass, the most unaesthetically pleasing thing ive ever seen in my life, dont get me wrong I drank it, but the seeds from the passion fruit I had to crunch down with every mouthful. I seriously dont recommend that to anyone.

We timed our exit from the restaurant perfectly with the start of yet even more rain. By the time we walked the several miles back to our hostel my Toms on my feet were ruined and rubbing horribly. Chris was in flip flops and every other step he slipped out of them. Back in the hostel when refreshed we had a few celebratory drinks with our dorm room mate. He is an American guy whos name is Lester but he prefers to be called Javier - naturally! At first I found him a little weird, when I first met him I introduced myself and he was like, i dont want to do too much getting to know you just yet, we´ll talk later. I think he just wanted to do the whole introductuary conversation with everyone present so he didnt have to repeat himself, who knows. Generally he had the worst social skills ever, especially when conversting with a large group, I dont think he was comfortable and would often take off somewhere, also he was obsessed with prostitudes and was adamant every Brazillian was one, honestly I dont know where these people come from. Oh well, he hit the bar to make birthday caipirihas so he eventually grew on me. We were up all night dancing along to some tunes when all of a sudden a favella rat went hurtling past Chris to make for the basement. I only caught a glimpse of it, it was moving that fast, Chris held it together exceptionally well, if I had been that close I dont think I would have been so calm. I do need to state that the hostel itself was gorgeous and this was outside in the courtyard area, so essentially I still 100% recommend a hostel with rats, crazy.

All in all I think we had about 2 or 3 days of sunshine in Rio, those days that were sunny were fabulous. We sunbathed on Copacobana, watched a surfing competition and had a blast. I intended to see the christ the redeemder statue up close. You could see it from the beach, but on the rare occasion we got sun, I chose to sunbathe. It was too hot to walk far on those days and the others, too foggy to appreciate any sights, you cant win. We did meet a couple of American guys, one of whom said he cried when he saw the statue, (dramatic or what) we were in a gay bar in Ipanema so I was hardly suprised at that response. That bar was also were we met a group of Brazillians from Sao Paulo, two of whom were models who were in Rio solely for work. They reckoned there was no night life in Rio whatsoever, that Sao Paulo was the city to be, devostated that we had been told the opposite by so many people, I guess you really need to experience places for yourself to make any real assessment. One of the models, I cant remember her name, we just called her Whitney (she loved it) as she was the spitting image of Whitney Houston circa 1980s before any drugs breakdown, curly permed afro and everything. At one point several caipirinhas down i nearly asked her for an autograph.

One night we joined in with the other guests in the courtyard for a little get together. There was an Argentinian guy who could speak very limited English. He was a university professor with tatooes and nipple piercings (ive certainly never had a teacher like that) who was the funniest person ever. He was adamant that you understood his conversation and would talk in broken English and fluent Spanish with a mixture of charades to help things along, he´d then high five you when you eventually understood his point. The owners were trying to get us into happy hour, 2 for 1 on caipirinhas. I was adamant I was never drinking another caipirinha again. It is literally made up of cachace crushed ice and a few limes, no mixer. The owner then brought down a selection of drinks for me so I could pick something else, for free on him. He was from Croatia so I chose one of his native drinks. Bare in mind I had just told him I found caipirinhas too strong for me, he then poured me out a glass full of this drink neat on ice 40%, like thats not going to be even stronger!

Rio is a great place to be and our hostel was fantastic aside fro the occasional rat and the mattresses with plastic covers that crinkle everytime you move, forcing you to sleep like a possum for fear of waking Javier the moody dorm resident. But without sunshine, its not for me, theres definatelty better places to be in the world and at a more convenient expense.

Finally arrived in Rio, weather was scorching, far to much for my jeans, boots, 2 t-shirts and rather excessive rucksack combo. Jumped on the bus to take us to Copacobana (where we were staying for the first week in Rio) missed our stop, the driver said he would shout when we reached Copacobana but he didnt, ended up getting off in Ipanema. Just a few miles walk in blistering heat (this at only 10am) with a bag that somehow seams to get heavier with each new destination, must stop purchasing my nephew gifts from each new place, going to end up with more gifts than clothes, oh well anything to outdo my brother, his uncle! Trekked along the famous black and white pavements beside Ipanema, then the different patten of Copacobana. Can honestly say Rio on the ocean front looks exactly like any idylic photograph you have ever seen. With each gap inbetween the sky scrappers and mountains you were treated to a view of Christ the Redeemer and to the other side sugar loaf mountain beside the water. Directions to our hostel said once you reach windsor hotel its 100yards past then lake a left. This hotel you can see from about 4miles out and it never seems to get any closer, espesially when walking in the sun. Pretty soon we realised our hostel was on the edge of a favella! The road we had to walk up had an incline of mass proportions, there was even a motorbike taxi service that for just $R2 takes you to the top of the hill its that steep.

On our first trip up, we walked right past out hostel, about 300 yards further up the hill. If i had stood straight up rather than leaning forward to ease up the hill, gravity and the weight of by bag would have had me rolling back down it. Once we reached the top with no sign of our hostel and the exterior looking more and more dubious, we asked a local for directions and he told us to take another turning half way down what we had just walked up. Happily we were directed right into the favella. Houses were closing in on either side with streets less than a metre wide, all concrete with no green and killer steps leading off in every direction. A guy directed us to something called the favella inn. Chris was adamant he was not staying here, i was trying to make the best of it but it was no Hilton put it that way. By this time however i was so hot you could have fried an egg off my skin so i would have stayed anywhere, i even suggested staying here for one night and a cold shower before getting a police escort out. After the owner of the favella inn (someone about the same size as the Rock) couldnt coax us into staying there he went and found somebody who spoke English, he again tried to get us to stay there but a bit of quick thinking explaining that we would if we hadnt already paid for our hostel in advance (we hadnt) got us off the hook. "The rock" then escorted us to our actual hostel, Lisetonga which was back on the killer hill but thankfully out of the actual favella. We missed it as it is a new hostel and at that point the sign hadnt been put up outside.

We were buzzed in an electric steal door (ominous) to thankfully a gorgeous hostel, much like a hotel. I knew it was going to be, i picked it after all. Chris was trying to put me in a cheaper one that the reviews only had it as 52% cleanlines, er no thanks! We were staying in a dorm, but even that was nicer than some of the private rooms we have had in the past aka Giramondo Argentina! A cold shower was awaiting, Chris took his tshirt off in the ready before he realised he didnt have a towel. Forcing me to go back down to reception with a tshirt that i would have to later peal off my skin, i caught sight of myself in a mirror, my face so red it was clashing with my hair. I love that the girl on reception was English and was clearly holding back laughter as she handed me the towels.

At this point Chris still wanted to leave the following day as he was unsure about the favella looming right outside. I was against it, the hostel was awesome complete with brand new bathrooms and not shared, a dorm with only one other permanant resident in and a lounge area up a high tower complete with hammocks. I was staying!! Once refreshed we decided to trek down killer hill and have a walk along Copacobana beach. Without my rucksack on my back i could start to appreciate Rio and not curse it as i was before. Dipped my feet in the Copacobana sea, more cold than i could ever have imagined. There are none stop waves along Copa and Ipanema, great for surfing and water sports, not so great for swimming. We walked to post 8 Ipanema (the gay part) for Chris, to cheer him up and had our first Caipirinha on the beach, it was so strong it should have come with a warning, i was drunk off one. Casually sitting back near the pavement with our drinks when a few Bob Marley look alikes sat nearlby getting high, a look to the other side and a dirty old man was casually having a wee in the sand. Er post 8, NO ES PARA MI!!!

On the way back alongside Copacobana, feeling significantly more used to staying where we were we stopped at a restaurant and had a mixed seafood platter to share whilst watching the sun set. All going great until a few randoms with a guitar and flute decided to give us a tune, then annoyingly walk round for a tip, i would have paid them to stop if anything. Another couple of Caipirihas to prepare us for the trip back up killer hill and finally Chris decides he can stay here after all. In the end we found our location to be really safe, with the local people lovely and a bit of exercise on the way, it cant be beat. It also helped that after several walks up the hill to our hostel Chris was convinced he was getting a six pack, i was convinced I was brewing a heart attack. Even so with weather like this and the people so friendly, i think i am going to love Rio.

Nearing the end of our stay in Flori we decided to splurge and treat ourselves to a little bit of seafood. The first seafood we have had since all as Argentina and Uruguay eat is meat and we were on the coast after all. We found a restaurant at the side of the river and were initially only going in to grab a beer as it was boiling, but within a minute of perusing the menu we were persuaded to order. I origionally wanted to order Dolphin which initially i was a little shocked at to see on the menu but then thought when in Flori give it a try. Too bad i was informed it wasnt the season for dolphin so i had to pick something else. It probably would have been bad karma eating a dolphin anyway, although the Australians staying at our hostel told us they saw one washed up on one of the beaches before we arrived so it couldnt have been too much out of season.

In the end i ordered some sort of fish stew, Chris did the same but when he saw a picture of it in the menu rekoned it was more like a soup and was adamant he wasnt having soup as his one and only seafood this trip. Ive never seen anyone move so fast, he literally went running after the waiter into the kitchen to change his order, so unkewth. I however was not put off, i had had something that sounded similar in Portugal and it was awesome so i had the highest expectations this was going to be as well and i was right! It was like a seafood paella with hugh chunks of fish, muscles on steroids and prawns. Chris ended up with 3 grilled pieces of fish (what fish we dont know) that were like steaks. We ended up sharing and it was completed with the traditional large portions of rice and chips that accompany most meals here.

The following day we took a boat ride along the river or lake, not sure which but they end up linking together. The river as im going to call it winds along with properties either side until it reaches the 2nd lake. Zonhar was driving with Chris and I strategically positioned in the middle and a German guy called Dario at the front. When i say boat i mean a tiny fishing boat that because it had an engine made it one step up from being a rowing boat. At any point there was risk of capsizing or sinking with the four of us in it. The worst was at the start when Zohar asked Dario to push us off using a long stick which you pres down into the river bed and push on to move us into deeper water where we could start the engine. I thought Dario was going to fall in and i made a mental note that i wasnt going to volunteer to cast us off any time soon. Dario also nearly knowcked Chirs is and out when changing the stick (like a large branch) to the other side to push us off in the other direction. He manouvered it accross the boat rather than in front, clipping Christoph accross the head.

Eventually we got moving and we were able to see so much more of the area than we could have on foot. Zohar said that its only within the last ten years that Flori has really been discovered. Now there are houses each more grander than the first covering the edges of the river with nothing in between them, whereas ten years ago there was only a handful. The mountain surrounding the lake is protected however so you cannot destroy anything to build gigantic mansions. Though they are extravaggant enough, each with jet skis and yachts docked outside. In peak season the lake comes alive with water sports and speed boats speeding through, with the odd helicopter landing nearby. The wealthy Brazillians really know how to live.

On our last night we decided we would return the favour and cook for Arianna and her family. Obviously we were cooling rice and when I say we obviously i mean Chris although i did help with the preparation stage. We branched out and purchased some begetables and a few spices. No meat however as the budget couldnt stretch to that. Chris was making chinese spiced fried rice. Once we were all sitting around the kitchen table we began to chop some veg. Chris ate a piece of raw pepper and Erica was visibly appauled. Ary was explaining that they wouldnt ever really eat raw veg, this at the same time as Erica was eating a raw tomato, hello thats still a veg! Once prepared Chris announced that the dinner was going to be an hour away. Erica grabbed some cheese and crackers to pass the time, I assisted.

When cooked with some difficulty on Chris´s bhalf as he had to fry the rice off in portions as the frying pan was big enough for about a fried egg, we all sat down. Dinner looked delicious and smelt great. As Chris was serving Erica nipped to the cooker started pealing potatos and prepared us some chips to accompany. My favourite bit was when she picked all the beg out of her meal (cost us a bomb that did) as it was only lightly cooked. Her mum loved it however and finished Ericas and the same time delighted that I went back for seconds and thirds.

An Argentine resident who had moved to Flori and was making a living by juggling at the traffic lights came in and sat down to join us. She is a vegetarian but was not put off by the good old bacon stock cube we added. For desert Erica made flan, literally the nicest thing ive ever tasted, (muyrika) hence the two portions of that as well. We sat talking for hours eventually being joined by two French guests. Erica whipped us up some popcorn and melted butter in a pan to pour on top, all in all a thoroughly enjoyable and excessive evening.

The Hilltop was an excellent hostel complete with a little dog that everyone loved and two stray cats that wouldnt leave. A perfect place for meeting new friends and having a great time, although if you are after something a little quiter this is probably not the hostel for you. Zohar even offered to let us stay for a few moew nights for free as there was a big party coming up, but unfortunately Rio was calling and our keep it affordable week was getting out of hand. So a few sad goodbyes before an 18hour overnight bus to Rio.

Day two in Flori and being the typical Brits, we brought the English weather with us, cloudy with a few scattered showers. This is Brazil, wheres the sunshine, why did i only pack shorts! Loving that we judged the weeks weather on the day before so we did all of our washing with a machine that was only just a step up from hand washing, then left everything out to dry. Nothing like a good dose of rainwater to ruin all of our hard work.

We took part in our first Portugese lesson today, led by Zohar. My Spanish is useless so maybe i would have better luck at Portugese. At first you can see some similarities between the two languages but then the Portugese goes and mixes it up by changing the pronounciation of letters, eg: Brazil is pronounced Braziou (ou) Barra as in Barra de Lagoa where we are staying is Baha because naturally RR doesnt exsist and im sure at one point Zohar was saying that sh was actually X. So its a case of full of portospanglish speaking for me then.

The next mission was to search for havaianas as i was adamant that the two pound flip flops i bought from Asda just wernt going to cut it. Finally i settled on the most expensive pair i could find (no wonder im bankrupt) and no sooner were they on my feet on a random day of good weather when i tripped up a mountain stumbling on some broken glass and cut my foot. Chris thought it was hilarious, i think havaianas are sooo overrated.

Continuing our "lets keep it cheap week" we were preparing to cook our traditional boiled rice with a stock cube for tea when we get to the kitchen and find Ariannas sister Erica at the stove cooking up a storm for her sister and mum. It took about 30seconds before we were invited for tea and then we were being served meat wrapped in pancakes (actually fab not as gross as it sounds) with a little bit of grated cheese on top. You just cant say no and again Ariannas mum made sure i had numerous portions. She reminds me of my cousin who used to make me have two full dinners before i was allowed to leave the table beacuse she thought my mum didnt feed me enough. Well i certainly wasnt complaining.

A few of the guests were leaving the following day, 3 English, as a send off we all arranged to go to Pacha as Roger Sanchez was DJing. At first Chris and i made a pact not to go as it was an expenditure we just couldnt afford but Zohar got tickets for only $R25 for girls and $R25 for boys so we couldnt really pass it up, besides the entire hostel was going with a mini bus arranged for us there and back so we couldnt really pass it up. I love Brazil girls are always charged less, the thought is that if you can get the girls in the boys will follow, Chris thought it was crap. Everybody gets ID´d in Brazil no matter what age, so you have to bring something to get in. I only had my passport and was a bit reluvtant to take it as i tend to lose it very easily. Another guest Laura also English had hers stolen out of her bag along with her credit cards in Buenos Aires so she just had a paper replacement. She didnt want to take that but was more concerned with losing the first passport as she lost all her stamps from each new country she had been. I was trying to fold mine in half and fit it in my shorts before Chris pointed out that was a bad idea.

The general rule before any party Zohar informs us in Brazil is to drink as much as you can before you go out so you dont spend any money when there as its crazy expensive. We all met at 5pm ready to start the festivities, one big international party, English, Brazilian, Portugese, Sweedish, Iranian and many more. We wernt getting picked up until 12am and by the time that came around i was well and truly finished. Very much taking after my brother i tried to sneak off to bed without anyone realising adamant that i had had a great night already and that everyone could go on without me. Alas i was collared by half the hostel and dragged back up, i even got a bit of tapioca for the road of Ariannas mum.

By the time we arrived at Pacha i as well as Chris (who was wasted) and a few others realised that we had left not only our ID but our tickets as well. Zohar managed to get us all inside, we just had to pay for a second ticket, i actually dont remember ever being given a first ticket so no wonder i forgot it. After a few tequilla shots at the bar (apparantly, no recollection) we all spent the entire night until 6am dancing right in front of Roger Sanchez. Chris was on form allnight, he must have danced with half the club and the other half he casually went around high fiving, god knows why.

In the morning we were greeted with steak and chips for brekfast with the usual ruits and salads. His theory being the English checking out had a ling way to go so they needed a brekfast lunch, plus there were hangovers gallore, not me however as i took anti hangover tablets which worked up a charm, poor Chris, he didnt. I cant wait to see what he cooks us for leaving!

After making quick but freezing work of Uruguay we decided to cut our losses and travel up the coast to Brazil. We arrived via coach at 9pm in Chuy, pronounced Chewie. This is literally the last place on the border of Uruguay and Brazil. Some shops charge in reis some in pesos. After walking through a very suspect town to find the Brazilian bus station we realised we didnt have enough money and they didnt accept card. Chris went off in search of a cash machine so we could ge the midnight bus as he thought it was too dodgy and dark for me. I guarded the bags. 20mins and a missed bus later we were unsuccessful. Another bad travelling experience. We went to the nearest hotel, and considering it was meant to be a step up from a hostel, i was thrilled to find the shower was cold!

Day two, we found a bank that would allow withdrawrals on English cards, not Brazillian bank so lookig forward to having no cash in Brazil! Eventually settled into an 8hour bus hourney to Porto Alegre. Again we arrived late at night must start planning better, we did a quick internet stop at the bus station and checked into the nearest hostel. Just a small cab ride away with a driver that would give Lewis Hamilton a run for his money. My favourite part was when he wound down the window to spit! Our hostel was literally a bar with beds. We were shown to our 8bed mixed dorm, i was the only girl, shown our beds, which we then had to make ourselves. Decided we should go out for a beer and shake off todays bus ride. Ended up ordering a platter meal for two, not quite on the ball with our Portugese just yet, we ended up with frango hearts aka chicken hearts in batter. Rawhide!

Returned to the hostel via the local Irish pub and found there was somebody in my bed. Chris politely told him that it was my bed to which he replied he´d been there all week and rolled over. I had to pull my pjs out from under him then had a great night sharing a bottom bunk bed with Christoff.

The next day however sunny it was, was not enough to convince us to stay longer in Porto Alegre, got a new 12hour bus to Florianopolis. Begining to love bus rides at this point, reclining seats so your almost lying down but really your still cramped and intense air conditioning to turn the bus to artic temperatures. The best part for me was realising i had left my phone on the previous nights bus!!!

Arrived 6am in Floripa, sun was shining so we decided to take a walk. Nothing was open, the streets were like San Fransisco, all hilly. Glad i was carting my rucksack throughout this excursion. I made a mental note to throw half of my things away to lighten the load no matter how much id need them. Decided to walk beside the beach. There were tons of people dog walking and jogging, i was going to love Floripa. Eventually we realised we had been walking miles for hours in a big circle, we hired a cab and went off in search of our new hostel situated in Barra de Lagoa. I had absolutly no expectations of this, the Hilltop hostel we only picked it as it was the cheapest one available so i was dreading it.

The taxi took ages and ran up 50reis devostated! But when we arrived it was excellent. Situated overlooking the lake which stretches out towards the sea. A beautiful white building with balcony and terrace to relax in, complete with small swimming pool. To get here the taxi had to go up and down mountains for what seemed like an age, the roads where so steep Chris weas contemplating having to get out and walk. When we got out we still had to walk along a predestrian bridge around several houses on the other side of the lake to our hostel. Arriving looking the worse wor wear, we were greeted by several of the guest in bikinis and board shorts chilling by the pool awaiting a late breafast. The owner Zohar arrived to tell us that they had had a massive party the night nefore and were al the worse for wear. He said we had arrived early but allowed u to use the showers whilst our room was being readied, then invited us to breakfast.

The hilltop hostel describes itself as having the best breakfasts in Brazil and i dont doubt it. We had pizza, chips, eggs, fresh juices frem every fruit imaginable, mixed salads, everything! Zohar said he loves to cook so everyday we will have cooked brekfast, something different everyday as he likes to give all kinds of breakfasts. I was definately going to love it here. Zohar then gave us as brief tour, everything in the hotel was for the guests, surfboads, body boards, snorkles, boat, harpoon and everything was free. We could even do kit surfng if we wanted. Zohar is the owner but its together with his friend Arianna who runs the place and its her that really looks after the guests, theres nothing she cant do for you to make sure your stay is the best possible.

We were advised that there was a trail we couild take at the back of the hostel up into the mountain where we could oiverlook the entire Floripa. So as we didnt want to go far after travelling we decided we would do this. Chris setting off in flip flops and me in a bikini and shorts. 5 minutes in we realised it was like a jungle trail close to vertial and with overhanging trees and massive rocks to contend with. That and huge dragn flys and the occasional snake! Eventually we reached the top and it was definately worth it, Floripa is beautiful. We could see several beaches from there and not a cloud in the sky. But sadly what goes up must ciome down and i spent the best part of an hour sliding down on my ass or falling on my hands tring to manouver what we only just managed to scramble up. Little trail i dont think so!

Finally left Buenos Aires after five awesome weeks. A lot poorer than when we started as it was much more expensive than anticipated, but i suppose if your going to rent an apartment rather than getting a hostel then we have only ourselves to blame. Took the buqebus to cordoba then a bus to Montevideo, just a straight forward eight hours for 65pesoes, more than what the guide book said. Decided to save money so trekked with our rucksacks to plaza Independencia where our Uruguayan hostel was. It took ages but felt the thinner for it.

Arrived at Che lagarto hostel, we were booked into a eight bed mixed dorm, but for the first night we found we were the only occupants. I love a good suprise like that, it was the perfect way to ease out of our apartment. The hostel was nice it had good showers and a nice bar and seating area. Bon Jovi was playing in the background so i was perfectly satisfied even if the lockers had one lock looking at you the other lock looking for you, not entirely secure then. The next day we decided to go for a meal at the former indoor fish market, which is now an indoor parilla wonderland. There was tons of restaurants with parillas in the middle, where you sit arround on like a bar and your delivered your own barbeque of absolutly everything. There was so many to choose from it was impossible to pick. In the end we chose our restaurant by the one which had the most attractive waiter. He turned out to be a real gaucho cowboy called Ramirez, awesome!

We ate absolutley everything, theres no being shy about what you want to eat here. We had intestines, throat glands, as well as the traditional steak, pork, chorizo, morcilla sausage. Apparantly even if your vegetairian in South America most things will still come with a bit of ham in it, so better to embrace the meat way of life. We also had a few bottles of something similar to sidre so it went down as a happily excessive afternoon. When we arrived back at the hostel we found our previous nights good fortune at an empty dorm to be over as it was full. Two lovely Austrailian girls one of whom we called pro hosteller as she knew absolutly everything about hostel decorum which as this was out first time really hostelling, was interesting to know. And four other girls from im not sure where. All this and there was only one key for the dorm.

We decided to go out for a drink that night, sadly there was no where really inspiring locally in Montevideo to go. Fearful that we would wake everybody up we waited in the hall to get out of our jeans and then gracefully manouvering in the dark sank into bed. Result, no one stirred. In the early hours of the morning the four girls that just checked in were checking out. The lights were on, they were banging loads. They locked themselves out of the room and instead of getting the key off reception tried to get us up. I would have opened the door but in a tshirt and knickers i decided i wasnt moving. Pro Austrailian hostellers didnt move but you could tell they didnt care for it. and were ragin in the morning. So we learnt how not to dorm in a hostel.

We only spent two nights in Montevideo as the guide book i took recommended a visit to a quaint little fishing town called Aguas Dulces just up the coast a little further than punte del este, which we were too poor to grace. It was described as a small touristy town not to miss right on the beach, a real gem. Id like to point out that this was Christoffs choice of destination not mine! When we arrived off the bus it was getting late. We were intending to go to an internet cafe and check our emails to confirm the place were we were staying. Theres only one way to describe what we arrived into, desolate shanty town, absolutlety deserted, hadnt seen a tourist since last season and beyond! Nothing was open, there was no such thing as internet or wifi in Aguas Dulces! The best part was that it was absolutly freezing!

We wandered bout for a bit trying to determin what we could do or where we could stay. Thankfully we found a man with a sign up saying apartments to rent at the same cost of a hostel. The apartments were at the back of his house and was a collection of little holiday apartments. It had an upstairs which was connected by a near vertical staircase, a downstairs bathroom with apparantly hot shower. We never used the shower as we had a sneaky suspision we would have been electricuted. There was no heating at all! We walked to the only open convienieve store to have a banquet of rice and tinned tomato, with the stove on for a bit of warmth. The tv although fuzzyplayed terminator 3 in English and although id seen it already 3times that week it did take your mind off reality. There was also no lock to the front door, but dont worry mum it was totally safe!!! Though i think this apartment is the reason people get vaccinations.

A night of near hyperthermia and we decided it wasnt worth finding our actual hostel, we went to the bus company and booked out ticket to chuy out. The bus was arriving at 3.30 and the clock said 1pm. So we went in search of a cafe, which we found and it was open although the owner looked more suprised than us at actully having a customer. He had to wash cups that had clearly been there since last summer to give us a coffee and there was no milk, but then again what cafe would have milk! A small trek along the boltic deserted beach and we thought we had let enough time pass. Returning to the bus station the clock still said 1pm, it had stopped, it was now 4.15 and we had only to wait 15minutes for the bus before and we would have been home free. The bus station didnt open again until 7pm! By the time that came i was a healthy shade of blue and Chris was having fun walking around to keep warm with a little dog following his every move. Turns out the next stop was 10minutes away by bus, we could have walked it!!! So all in all, Aquas Dulces is not for me, even in peak season i think ive been well and truly traumatised enough never to revisit.

We took a day trip to tigre bay, about 45minutes in car from Buenos Aires. This was potentially the hottest day we had so far, scorching. The bay was gorgeous, a delta of rivers merging with small islands inbetween. We spent the day in and out of the market town, called a fruit market although it sold everything but fruit.

There was six of us in total so we decided to stop at a pub overlooking the bay. We ordered a platter of food to share which contained everything from squid to chorizo, potato to cheese. Everyone ordered a beer but i was still determined to find cider, my favourite drink from back home, one which sadly doesnt exsist so far ive found in south america. There was something called sidre on the menu, thinking it sounded the same i opted for this. I should have been warned when i was told the Argentines only drink this at christmas or for a special occasion.

So everyones beer arrives and my sidre turns up in a champagne bottle with its own bucket of ice. I love to be the excessive English at the table, no need. It was lovely though and i would definately get it again, though on a more appropriate occasion.

With day being so hot we were conviced to try Argentinian ice cream. Apparantly this is the best although anything in Argentina, Argentinians admit to it being the best. The same with iguazzu, its apparantly much better from the Argentinian side rather that the Brazillian side, but ill have to see that for myself i think. The ice cream however was the best, you buy a quarter tub full or more and can pick up to three flavours. I had dulce de leche, my ultimate favourite, banana split and a crazy strawberry merrangue. Its worth a trip to Argentina just for that! Finished the day delightfully more tanned with Madonna on the car radio.

With the weather looking up we spent the next few days at Palermo park just off plaza Italia. There was so much going on it reminded me of central park. We decided to go all the way and hire rollarskates, thinking we were hard core we took them for two hours. Three changes of skates later and a few near falls, it was barely an hour and we were giving them back in exhausted. So many people in Argentina rollar skate, skate board, snake board or tight rope walk in the park its just crazy. Definately worth a day out.

Ended the week with an all you can eat parilla before heading off on our next adventure to Uruguay.