Happy Xmas - Take Two (25 Dec to the east of the international dateline

It’s the Cook Islands so it must be Xmas Day. I know that because the pilot told us both the time and the date as we landed… It was odd to arrive at 3.30am on a Xmas Day, having spent Xmas Day in Auckland……. Oh dear, I think I am stuck in the blog version of the film set of Groundhog Day! But no, it’s real - a warm, rainy night and greeted at the airport with Polynesian songs and lei’s (lovely floral garlands). Get to the Puaikura Reef Lodges to a big room with huge terrace (much needed as shelter from the rain – more of that later) and right in front of the small blue pool. The lagoon is just across the road – the island is 32kms around, and a road (or should I say the road - there aren’t many more as the interior of the island is very mountainous) runs right the way around the edge, so most properties are just across the road from the narrow, white, palm lined beach – a walk that takes all of 20 seconds depending on traffic. I am making the effort to more backpack than flash pack so have opted for this “studio unit” – which means self catering (as opposed to the resort hotels which on these islands are extortionate even for me!). I think they’ve also put me in the wrong room – I can’t find the dishwasher anywhere. Note to self, if you are going to do self catering, and plan to arrive on Xmas Day when everything is shut, don’t expect to be able to eat…… So it was no cooking in the Cook Islands for me. Venturing into the tiny mini mart which was open for a few hours, I was able to buy essential supplies (i.e. tonic water for the duty free gin), but the nearest I could get to some turkey was chicken flavoured pot noodles – now there’s an opportunity for someone, Xmas dinner flavoured pot noodles… They did have millions of tins of corned beef, but given the discussion we had at the Estancia about corned beef, I decided to pass on that one. But the generosity of the Cook Islanders shone through too. I was just about to parcel up my laundry to send out, and then decided, no, I can do this – all I need is some soap powder and a pair of rubber gloves. But rubber gloves are not high in the stock list of your local mini mart and they didn’t have any, but the guy behind the counter went to the back room and found me a pair of his own – they had a hole in, but any port in a storm… Having worked in an industry where GWP’s (Gift with Purchase) are so common, I have to say this was the most unusual GWP I have ever been given, but on balance, think I still prefer Clinique’s little mini bottles.
Global warming seems to having a bit of an effect here – it is the rainy season, but this would normally mean sunny mornings and heavy rain for a while in the afternoon. But at the moment and it’s been like this for some time apparently, it’s continuous rain and rather grey, but warm. Light showers with the odd heavy bit thrown in, so the big terrace is really welcome, I can sit out here, read and do “blogging in the rain”. Wifi isn’t too common here, so these rainy blogs may be delayed in getting uploaded… Am thinking of Ant and Derek today – they fly to Ushuaia to embark on their Antarctic adventure tomorrow, but for me, on balance, I’ll stick with the rain!

Happy Christmas - Take One

It’s Auckland so it must be Xmas Day. I know that because the pilot told us both the time and the date as we landed… It was odd to arrive at 4.30am on a Xmas morning, having missed Xmas Eve in its entirety due to the International Dateline, into a very sleepy Auckland, still dark. I looked for Santa’s sleigh but guess he had already started on his way to all those other places where Xmas Day starts that bit later, as he was nowhere in sight. It’s quite taxing trying to work out what time it is in various places in the world – in the UK and in Argentina where Ant and Derek still are. My flight was going onto Sydney and very few people left it here, so the arrivals hall was eerily quiet. There are a few Xmas decorations about, but it seems that no other country goes quite so over the top as we do in the UK with Xmas. No one makes any reference to it, for example the pilot told us the date but didn’t mention the word Xmas, no mention was made by the very nice immigration officers or even hotel reception. Perhaps in this politically correct day and age people don’t mention it in case they offend, who knows. Made my way to the Kiwi International Motel (definitely more backpacker than flashpacker), as my flight to the Cook Islands doesn’t leave till this evening. So time for a freshen up and a sleep before I start on my travels again. But the hotel doesn’t serve food at lunchtime, and suggests you nip to the shop down the road – but as this is Xmas Day it’s not open. But no bad thing, no turkey lunch for me may go some way to getting rid of the 5lbs I’ve put on so far from all that Argentinian beef! And there’s always tomorrow……

Wasn't Madonna married to some Argentinian President? (20-23 Dec 2007)

Buenos Aires is a buzzing city, and we were staying at the heart of the new economy in Puerto Madero – BA’s version of London’s docklands on a much smaller scale. All new, shiny and teeming with trendy bars and restaurants. But it’s not a huge city and from the pool deck of our hotel, we look over and see the BA of yesteryear with the old buildings, beautiful and some very ornate, but still with a “Socialist” feel to them. We felt in Europe, not Latin America – it was like Madrid, or in some places, Paris, but the shopping not quite so good! Sightseeing is limited – and most seems to be based around Eva Peron (or Madonna, with whom we frequently confused her – we decided that no one would really have know much about Eva if it hadn’t been for Andrew Lloyd Webber, but they seem to have built a successful tourist economy based on her nonetheless). We saw the balcony where Madonna (sorry – Eva) stood in the beautiful Casa Rosada, and visited her tomb in the rather spooky Recoletta cemetery – at times with a large number of others from a cruise ship which had docked that day. The cemetery is a small “village” of what are rather grand, small house like structures, containing the coffins of the family members. Some are kept in beautiful condition, and some are left to go to rack and ruin, with broken glass and weeds taking them over. We wandered the streets of Recoletta and down Av de 9 Julio, the widest avenue in the world, with a huge obelisk at its central point. The Portenos’ penchant for demonstration is also still alive and well, with the main square at the front of the Casa Rosada full of people protesting about the sacking of some casino workers. And surrounding them, the gun toting policia in rather large numbers….
Eating is really interesting in this city, it’s very late and it’s beef, beef, or for a change beef! But always wanting to live like the locals, we took up the recommendation of Ant’s Spanish teacher and go to a restaurant called “Siga La Vacca” or “Follow the Cow” – that was the phrase Ant heard so often when he was on the Estancia working with the Gaucho’s and herding the cattle. Up we turned at 9pm to face a long queue – but it looked so popular, we decided to wait. It was a fantastic place – for your 52 pesos (£8.50) you got a starter, your pick of really good meat from the huge indoor bbq (parilla), a fantastic choice of good, fresh salad, a choice of fabulous puddings, mineral water and a bebidas (drink). When asked what we wanted to drink, I went for white wine, Ant for red and Derek for Coke light – and the waitress returned with a full bottle of white, a full bottle of red and a huge jug of Coke all included in your £8.50 – what a bargain! The place was heaving with families and groups of all ages, interestingly not many of whom were overweight – they eat huge amounts of red meat here, but we decided that the whole nation must be on the Atkins diet, as generally they look very trim – not sure what their cholesterol levels are though…………..
We visit the San Telmo antique market on the Sunday morning – at least it’s cooled down a bit. When we arrived, for the first couple of days it was 35 degrees – and it’s still only Spring here, but that is unusually high. The antiques market is an interesting place with a mix of stalls, entertainers and good antique shops, but I think you need to know a bit more about it before you buy something here and of course there is also the issue of getting it home. We thought of Mum as we saw all the old dolls for sale. Ant has already had to buy another bag for his purchases – he bought some lovely things for the house in a shop recommended by Diana at the Estancia – and the attached photo shows him trying out a few things! But a sad day – I (Gill) leave this afternoon (the 23rd), and Ant and Derek go off to Antarctica on Boxing Day. Their blogs from that will be posted after they get back – internet communication is not that easy out there on the ice! So the first part of our adventures together come to an end. We’ve had a fantastic time so far, have enjoyed some amazing, special and varied experiences, stayed in loads of different places – from backpacker to flashpacker, and agree that we would not have changed one single moment of it.

Last tango in Buenos Aires (20 - 23 Dec 2007)

It was something we always promised ourselves – when we get to Buenos Aires we will do the tango for Kev. For 2 people with no experience of dance, not much sense of rhythm or indeed much grace at all, the celebrities on Strictly Come Dancing didn’t have too much competition. But, we thought, if you are going to do something at all then do it properly. We started this challenge way back in the summer by looking on the net for dance steps and then trying our best around the kitchen – it was not promising – all we managed to do was dissolve in gales of laughter. So we searched out the Confiteria Ideal in Buenos Aires for some lessons. It was an amazing place – a café from around the 1930’s – with all original features. It looked like the staff were also from the same era; reminiscent of Miss Haversham’s house, it looked like it hadn’t been cleaned since then either. Never deterred by a bit of grime but deciding not to go for a coffee and a dusty cake first, we ascended the gracious staircase to the first floor into the huge bar and ballroom area to take our lesson. The floor was half full of a collection of couples all practicing their moves. Looking down at our feet, we realised that our footwear left something to be desired – Ant in his Timberland’s (he should have had nice shiny winkle picker lace ups) and me in my Teva’s (when I should have had very high, very elegant 4” stilettos with an ankle strap…) not a good start, but on this occasion probably much safer for all concerned! We explained that we had never danced before, and the teacher was quite understanding – hiding her amusement well at quite how bad we were! But practice makes perfect and we soon mastered the eight basic steps. Help was always at hand from two of the male teachers who would give extra tuition. One was about 55, large and frankly looked like he hadn’t washed since the café opened either. He explained to me in sultry Spanish that I had to let the man lead; in the tango, the woman is not allowed to think, just to follow…. I was encouraged to place my hands on his chest and push as he guided me round the floor doing the basic steps. To complete the tango illusion he insisted on locking his gaze with mine, and giving what I suppose he thought was a passionate, sexy gaze into my eyes under half closed lids – the tango is all about passion apparently. But the combination of my Britishness and the smell of old cigs on his breath didn’t quite do it for me! (You can see this Latin Adonis strolling across the picture, all dressed in black on the attached vid). Ant’s issue was slightly different – the tango is meant to be passionate, but sort of straight up and down – Ant discovers he naturally has a Latin rhythm with swaying hips - he’s probably been watching Gethin too much on Strictly. His teacher asks him if he was a salsa dancer! But with determination Ant and I just got better and better, after the eight basic steps, we were moved up a notch to do the “oche” – a sort of foot swivelling thing in the figure of eight in the middle of our eight basic steps, reminiscent of opening and closing doors. At last we had done it. We had mastered the tango. Our next step was our performance, and we scoured the tango maps for a milonga to go to the next night. Most of them open at 12 and close at 6, but that’s 12 midnight and 6am. So after a late dinner with Derek and Giles and Natasha, two friends of Derek’s who have been travelling for a year (see group pic), we made our way to our chosen milonga. Following the sounds of the tango, we made our way up the steep narrow stairs to the first floor which was heaving with people of all ages tangoing away. The room was very brightly lit – not your vision of a dark smoky tango bar at all – with small round tables lining the outside walls all laid with red and black cloths. It must have been a good milonga – the girl who had taught us the day before was there too, and yet again, we were the only touristas in the village. All the women sit down one side with the men on the other. There are rounds of three tango’s and some partners change each time after taking their pick from the opposite side. There were some really good dancers there who had obviously been doing this for years. For Dutch courage we ordered a bottle of their best vino (a bargain at about £3) and whilst it did its work, we took in the scene. Clothes generally were not good – bad sparkle seems to be the tango fashion du jour – but the shoes! Immelda Marcos eat your heart out. All very sparkly and very, very high….. We realised our moment had come – up we got and danced our tango – and a very good job we did too – basic steps and we included our oche! The pics to prove it are attached – the vid is of our first (and only!) class, and the pictures, our performance. But sadly for our public, we have taken the decision to quit dancing whilst at the peak of our career – that one tango performance in Buenos Aires, perfect though it was, was our last.

Bulls, bells and bullets

We are sitting here on the verandah, the night before the 9 hour drive back to the big city. The crickets are singing, and we have spent our time here outdoors, as we are now. It’s like our own home, especially so now that Diana has left to tackle a problem of drought on one of her other estancias in the sierras of Northern Cordoba (500kms north). So we have the keys to the very grand front door, the run of the house and control of the maid’s “bell” and the 2 maids. Ant is eyeing up the beautiful Argentinian silver as we speak! We have had some real gaucho times – each day the riding improves, Ant’s cattle herding skills are coming along nicely, we have been introduced to the intricasies of the “mate rituals” – mate is the local non alcoholic brew of herbs and tepid water drunk from a communal gourd – a national obsession. We did this at the end of our 4x4 trip of the huge estancia and a lesson in modern agricultural crop rotation and animal husbandry, which was fascinating. It’s really brought home the complexities of food production and thinking about the quality and source of what we eat – corned beef is off the menu forever! However, what we have not thought about since being here is the sheer quantity. We have eaten our way through a breakfast, a 3 course lunch, full on afternoon teas, pre dinner cocktails and nibbles, then a 3 course dinner with copious quantities of Malbec Latitude 33 wine every day – and all this for £38 per night all inclusive (and no need to wear a horrible wristband). But at least we knew where it all came from. We also spent time with the gauchos and the local vet in la manga, spraying the cattle against insects, and also measuring their nether regions assessing their breeding potential. We also found ourselves riding shotgun on the back of a pick up in the pitch dark, clutching shotguns hunting vizcachas across acres of potholed ground with a searchlight. The gorgeous Diego, chief gaucho and local hunk, was our driver. His macho image and driving style was severely damaged by wedging the front end of the pickup in the huge vizchaca hole (1 metre across and the same deep), necessitating a rapid disembarkation, much revving and to-ing and fro-ing. We never did get to shoot the vizchacha – they had had their revenge on us after all!
Footnote to selves, check that travel insurance covers such activities!

A Gaucho, a gringo and a gentlewoman

We are on an Estancia – this is where the adventure really begins. We become a gaucho, a gringo and a gentlewoman. Ant is first off the block - his riding and farming experience means he is to go out and help the gaucho’s in their daily work. He is mounted on a gaucho horse, and followed by his new faithful friend the estancia dog, Negrito, is off to La Pampa to help round up some cattle to be brought into the “corello” and la manga (and I always thought that was just a posh golf hotel in Spain…) for them to be sprayed against a vicious mozzie. This was the real macoy – Ant rounding up Angus beef on the dusty plains of the Pampas for 3 hours solid. The endless vistas, the maize, grass, alfalfa, wheat, owls, hawks was the mind’s eye Argentinian Pampas for us all. In the meantime, Derek and I take a leisurely breakfast, again served by the maid in the Estancia dining room. Then having been assessed for our individual skills, Derek is mounted on a quiet horse to take a gentle “gringo” (foreigner) ride, and Gill is ensconced in the back of a horse drawn buggy just like a gentlewoman from a Jane Austen novel. We all plan to up the ante over the next 2 days – Ant has asked for a horse with even more spirit for his mornings at work in the fields, Derek is planning to get his horse up to a canter at the least, and Gill is planning to perhaps sit on a stationary horse! By 11.30am all work for the day is finished, and Ant walks gingerly back to the house having desaddled and watered and cooled down his steed. Lunch is served (yes, those maids again) out on the verandah – again presided over by Diana. Parma ham and melon to start, the tenderest fillet of beef and Papas fritas, and jelly and cream to finish. All (apart from the jelly – not sure they produce that themselves, but perhaps they boil up the beef bones to produce the gelatine, who knows…) is grown, harvested and cooked on the Estancia. 2pm to start the real part of the day – La Siesta. The sun beds are laid out for us on the verandah, and the estancia goes quiet as it starts to sleep…. A masseuse is expected for Ant at 5pm – after tea (those maids again) at 4.30. This is the life!

Maids, Macho's and Manicured Lawns

We were not disappointed. Off the beaten track again, 12k on yet more dirt roads, Derek driving the chevvy like an armoured vehicle through deep dirt and deep water, we spot a few chickens in the road. Such have our notions changed – two weeks ago in the world of work and retirement a few chickens in the road would have signified the back of beyond, now they signify the start of civilisation. We were right as before us the pristine white gates of the Estancia Isabella appeared. Driving another 2 kms we saw a group of beautiful green trees in manicured lawns, nestled within was a magnificent house – the Casa Principal of the estancia which is to be our home for the next 4 days. Greeted by the cutest (in a very macho way) gaucho you have ever seen, Diego, we were taken to meet Diana, the owner. Whilst we settled in by being shown to our rooms by a uniformed maid, and taking a walk in the gardens whilst early cocktails were prepared, we marvelled at our good fortune in finding such a place. Our introduction to life on an estancia was real – a trapped cat about to be eaten by a dog and a large Argentinian fox trapped in a snare (trapped to prevent them from eating the eggs of the ria, ostrich type birds). Said fox was finished off “humanely” later with a gaucho with a big stick – but the eggs were safe. The weather was perfect (2 days earlier there had been a hurricane with many trees down), we sat on the verandah surrounding the house learning about the history of this huge farm. 10kms wide by 5 kms long with 5000 head of beef cattle and various crops, guests like ourselves are a mere incidental, it’s the estancia itself that is its reason for being. We are the only 3 people staying here, apart from Beatrice, the daughter of a friend of the owner, who is here for 2 days. Dinner at 8.30pm we are told. The delicious dinner felt like something out of a Victorian novel. The small dining room, laid for 5, was presided over by Diana. As each course was finished, Diana pressed a discreet bell, which sounded in the kitchen, and Alicia the maid scuttled in to clear and then serve the next one. We have all decided we want one too when we get home – i.e. a bell and a maid to respond to the call! Good dinner conversation about Diana’s interesting past (born in Germany, but came here with her family in 1948), the current state of Argentinian politics and the economy, and discovering that as well as running this huge Estancia, she is also the writer of 6 published books, translated into many languages and one global best seller! We also learned of the history of the house. Not what you would expect of an Argentinan structure, and to Ant so very reminiscent of the chateau he stays in in France – the smell of polish, the gleaming wood floors, ornate doors, high elegant ceilings and 3 storeys, we were puzzled. But we discover it is a “pre-fab” – shipped here from Italy in 1904 in pieces and built on this ground. So we were in a town house from Milan – whilst 750kms from Buenos Aires. Finishing off the good Malbec wine on the verandah after dinner, the 3 of us yet again talked of our good fortune in this adventure – but like Cinderella, we had a clock to watch – at 11pm the mains electricity goes off – battery bedside lights in the rooms, but everywhere else pitch dark, this was a little too much of a challenge for us on this our first night. And tomorrow, the real adventure starts.

Promenades, Peron y Parillas en Junin

On our 3rd visit to Jorge Newberry Aeroparque, now an old friend, we collected a more sophisticated blingmobile in order to drive the 750kms across Las Pampas to the Estancia Isabella, in the province of Cordoba. Finding Ruta 7 was our first challenge, but Ant found it with 2 back seat drivers (Gill & Derek) and one excellent navigator (Gill). The next challenge was the road, long straight and overpopulated with lorries, kamikaze chevvy drivers and tractors. Needing a bed for the night (another first for Gill, not knowing exactly where she was going to sleep that night) we head for Junin hoping for a room at the inn (it is Xmas after all..) Arriving we found we appeared to be the tourists in the village and the objects of friendly attention. We found the only 4 star in town for £20 per night each. This town, full of agricultural machinery stores appeared dead, much like it’s offspring Eva Peron who went to school and married here. We felt we met her ghost in the form of a sleek cat in the hotel….. But unlike Eva’s ghost, the town was very real, and as soon at 8pm struck it was filled with people of all ages, but mainly young , promenading on foot, on bikes and in cars – it was very buzzy. On to dinner in the local parilla, a typical Argentinan bbq meat restaurant. Yet again, we wished we had studied harder as a plate of indeterminate meats was placed in front of us – our waiter was delighted to be able to tell us in Spanish that we were eating the thymus gland, plaited intestines, kidneys, black pudding and chorizo. (and this is Gill – I wish he’d told us about the intestines BEFORE I tried them!) This was followed by 2 different cuts of beef and some chicken, fried potatoes and salad. Throw in 1 ½ bottles of wine, bread and mineral water and the bill came to £21 for all 3. Ant had an exploding mustard moment as he squeezed the mustard pot too enthusiastically and emptied the entire bottle over his plate. We were then even more the objects of amused attention – what odd eating habits the Ingleses have. Our intentions of an early night yet again disappear as we spot the local folklore band (Los Federales) appearing in “Chique” at the Hotel Emporador. At 1 pm while the rest of the diners were still on their 2nd course, we called it a night as we had a long day coming up, the finale of our drive to the Estancia Isabella. It was only with the benefit of hindsight that our concerns increased, having found this on an obscure website, sent our dollars to an Argentinian bank in New York and being unable to find any mention of the Estancia on any local map or book... As we continued to drive into the increasingly empty spaces of the Pampas, the thought occurred that we may be driving to a gypsy encampment, a deserted hovel with a creaking sign or a big con – i.e. nothing at all.
Driving South from Vicuna Mackenna was not promising - faithfully following the directions sent by e mail we failed to spot the sign….. but tune in tomorrow to find out how we got on.

Shooting stars, rapids and robbers

We must be American – 3 countries in 3 hours! Argentina, Brasil, Paraguay, Brasil again then Argentina. Paraguay was very third world with a teeming city of duty free shopping, all guarded with macho gun toting security guards looking for robbers to shoot, and police who closed the road so you had to pay to get through or face a long detour. As far as we were concerned, the only robbers were the shopkeepers who were marking up prices for the touristas. But unable to make a fuss as we had entered the country illegally in a taxi over the Rio Parana bridge, which carried an assortment of life and a million motorbikes, we increased our shopping quotient negligibly. Brasil felt very different, more manicured and we had a theme park experience at the Brasilian side of the falls, which were none the less equally impressive as the views from the Argentinan side. Later the rapids were “shot” by Derek and Ant on a boat. We travelled up river to reach the bottom of the falls getting thoroughly soaked in an orgy of screaming and water. Remarkably we also found time whilst at Iguasu to walk, see the raccoon like chito’s, relax by the pool, and continue to work on our Spanish by ordering more caiparina’s. Shooting stars appeared in the inky South American sky above the hotel just as we were finishing dinner - a fitting end to a magnificent stay at Iguasu.

Water, water everywhere.....

....... but only caipharinas to drink. Iguasu Falls are twice the size of Niagra and are ovewhelming. Today we are letting the video do the talking - enjoy -we did! On a side note, Derek has been upgraded to business, so will be with us tomorrow evening.
Shopping conditions - poor, shopping forecast - promising as taking side trips to Brasil and Paraguay tomorrow, will advise.

Los chicos pinguinos....

... 500k are to be found at the world's largest Magellenic penguin colony at PuntoTombo - the most southerly place in the world that Gill has ever visited at 43 degrees South - Ant is going to 67 degrees but given he turned up at 43 degrees south in a pair of shorts and a t shirt, whilst everyone else was correctly dressed for the South Atlantic Gales that were blowing, we are a little concerned that more thought needs to go in to his daily wardrobe..... But gales notwithstanding the 2.5 hours drive on dirt roads was worth it. We spent 2 hours wandering freely amongst the penguins and their newly hatched chicks watching the parents take to the sea to go fishing for food, and then go waddling back up the beach to their nests and families. It was humbling. Looking out to sea, as well as the penguins swimming in and out, we spotted a whale in the bay.

We rewarded ourselves with a lunch of lamb empanados at 2 pesos (30p) each before making the reurn journey. After 5 days in this part of Patagonia, Trelew is taking on the persona of a bustling metroplolis and we couldn't resist pulling in to get get cash, find a road map (and that was fun - our Spanish really is improving) and of course a drink in a caff. Trelew was beginning to feel like home..... Gaiman was still closed as it has been since we arrived.......

Tomorrow we journey north to sub tropical Iguazu a 3.5 hour flight via Buenos Aires where we intentd to lunch.

Shopping conditions - poor - stuffed penguins only - shopping forecast still not hopeful...

Photos from Patagonia

Gill's new gaucho friends and a Southern Right Whale in thePenninsular Valdes

Gaucho's and God, Horses & Heaven and the weekly meeting of the broken leg society....

Blowing a gale, Patagonia in the roaring forties, visited Rawson and Playa Union – both of which were closed! Tumbleweed rolling across the highways, feral dogs, shuttered ice cream parlours painted in peeling pastels and waves to shame Hawaii. Headed to Gaiman, the epicentre of Wales in Patagonia with heavy hearts – what on earth can we do here for 48hrs – we’ve already brought our flight forward a day! Desperate for a Starbucks, we were blessed to find a Welsh bakery full of cakes and a latte. We lodged at Gwesty Tywi, run by Brenda and Diego, descendents of the original Welsh settlers, and were shown candlewick bedspreaded rooms with lime green sheets (obviously coloured bri nylon bed linen is the fashion du jour of South America). But this comes at a cost – all inclusive at £12.50 a night. We were further surprised to be entertained in this superficially closed town inhabited by people desperately hanging on to a culture of 130 year ago which no longer exists in the real Wales. This Argentinean version is a Wales of Welsh flags, afternoon tea houses and knitted Welsh ladies, with castles on tea towels and tea cosies on teapots.
We need to remember today is Sunday, so attendance at chapel is required, and we visited Bethel for the nativity play and carols (all in Welsh) but we did leave before the collection plate came round. However before chapel, we visited Dolavon and its watermills, drove the gravel roads amongst the original settler’s farms, found a plot belonging to the family Rees, visited the old railway station museum, and partook of a calorific Welsh afternoon tea at Ty Nain (Granny’s House) where Ant spoke fluently to the patrons in Welsh – impressive! This action packed afternoon, we also squeezed in a local rodeo run by the gauchos. We were the other side of the Chubut river, heard the loudspeakers, and were so excited to think we had found a sophisticated, exclusive, Argentinean Polo Match – Smiths Lawn eat your heart out we thought. Glad I didn’t bother to go back for my stilettos, as when we got there, it was a fiesta of local gauchos breaking in young horses in a frenzy of excitement. Gill made new friends (see photo). It was a while before we noticed that half the gauchos had broken legs and where on crutches – watching their style of horse breaking, we fully understood why!
After leaving chapel, gagging for a drink, we wandered the length of Gaiman’s two streets to find that bar culture is still to arrive. The ONLY watering hole was a grimy, formica, cobwebbed ,testosterone laden hole masquerading as an internet café with loud futbol on the old TV in the corner, with someone who looked as if he had survived the sinking of the Belgrano behind the bar – Mrs T would not have been welcome… but any port in a storm, so in we went! A small cerveca was about a gallon, and the vino blanco was sweet, served from a carton, warm and unceremoniously squeezed into a half pint glass – and glugged with glee! The only issue was that the internet part of the deal didn’t work, but after drinks of that size did we care? No!
Dinner in the only restaurant (Cornel Wini) was surprisingly good and again very cheap.
Good news, Derek’s mum strengthening, so he will make it only 2 days late.
Shopping outlook – dire, shopping forecast abysmal!

Time & Tide waits for no man (Whales & wales...)

400 kms of dirt roads, long, fast, straight, wide and leaving an impenetrable dust cloud in our wake from our blingmobile (we haven’t told you this so far but the hire car we picked up was not the macho 4 wheel drive pick up that everyone else was driving, but a rather budget low spec very gold family saloon which had zero street cred! Arrived by 10am to catch high tide at peak time for killer whale beach attacks on seal pups as made famous by David Attenborough at Punte Norte, Peninsular Valdes. We are not him, and needless to say we got bored waiting for them to appear after 30mins so spent the rest of the day driving in the Peninsular Valdes, a windswept South Atlantic Peninsular famous for its ocean life. Caught up with sea lions, seals, Magellanic Penguins, elephant seals, armadillos, cuanchos, and Latin American emu type birds. Got to Puerto Pyramides just in time to catch the last inflatable out to the bay and saw the magnificent Southern Right Whales and calves in all their glory – they put on quite a display this is Ant as Gill remains a wimp when it comes to water….).
By the way got no sleep in the budget hostel due to boy racers outside my window all night (and this is Gill) now I know why I prefer 5 star to no star. But joking apart, apart from the purple sheets (very clean…) and lime green coverlets (perhaps it’s a South American design statement…) it was fab, the bathroom with sandstone tiles was skintight but gorgeous! We are lovin’ Latin America – we returned tonight to el Classico bar (where else would we go….) to write this blog and were welcomed with a big kiss from the waitress and even larger glasses of wine than last night – heaven!
At Caleta Valdes, we learnt that Charles Darwin came here on the Beagle and asked the question “who on earth would choose to settle here “, even though he found the fauna and landscape mesmerising. We agree with him completely – the Welsh must have been mad. It’s high summer, and the gigantic elephant seals lounging on the beach don’t seem to feel the biting wind – but when it blows, the real issue is that the sand sticks to your lipgloss, and you are crunching sand for the rest of the day – not sure if Charles experienced this, but Gill sure did. But at the time, Ant did point out that in London, you would pay a fortune for such exfoliation….
This is Ant now “I’ve seen the whales, I’ve seen the penguins, I’ve every type of seal imaginable – why exactly am I going to Antarctica – and the shopping forecast there is even worse than it is here…) Keep reading this blog to find the answer….
Arriving back at the hostel was like a scene from a 70’s B movie – young people sitting in the garden, strumming guitars, speaking many languages of the world and smoking. When asked what was his drug of choice, Ant truthfully answered “a Lemsip”!
Shopping conditions – poor, shopping forecast – even worse

Blogging en Puerto Madryn

Ant & Gill posting our blog.

Ant y Gill corriendo el blogo en el bar en Calle 25 de Mayo, Puerto Madryn, Patagonia, Sur Argentina

The adventure starts....

OMG!! Patagonia is so not what you expect - green fields, lush vegetation, lambs skipping across the hills - noooo - as we circled above the dirt strip all we could see was bleak, bleak, bleak! Miles and miles of scrub and not a lot else - why did the Welsh ever settle here - big mistake - HUGE! We can't believe we are only 48hrs out of the UK and have already flown half way around the world - we have gone from flat beds in business to hard beds in a youth Hostel - yes a youth hostel (they take OAP's now - and that's Gill not Ant!) A real first for Gill - the discovery that you can pay less than £200 a night and get somewhere comfy and clean (although we haven't actually slept there yet..) We are now embracing technology and writing this blog entry in a bar - how cool is that - (well it is us 2, there had to be a bar involved somewhere) but Mum, for the price of a beer you get free WiFi so it's a bargain ! Our Spanish is improving by the hour, although the Spanish phrasebook is being well used and is something of a disappointment after Ant's 3 months of private tuition and Gill's 3 months of the Daily Mail Learn Spanish in a week CD's - they say a week is a long time in politics, but a week of Daily Mail CD's is obviously long too... We are also just realising that the siesta is alive and well (well sleeping!) - we thought that Puerto Madryn was a sleepy (for sleepy read really boring....) little town until we noticed that after 5pm it suddenly livened up and is now buzzing. But we noticed that last night - at 11 pm there were still lots of children in the restaurant , so assume they had a little sleep in the afternoon. Today we have achive 2 firsts:
1. Gill driving in a left hand drive car on the right hand side of the road (tomorrow, she's taking it off road - more of that later....)
2. Anthony has kissed a blowsy 60 yr old shopkeeperwith bright red lipstick due to the excitement of finding (in a ships chandlers ) a charger for the camera battery that he omitted to pack, and is still plugged in in Clapham...
One piece of sad news, Derek's mum is not well and there is some question of whether he is going to be able to come - we hope so and are in constant touch by text.
We have also had an educational day today. In Trelew (like going back in time - albeit a time you wouldn't want to live in.. a combination of Freemantle, New Zealand, Broken Hill, Coober Pedy- sorry Indochina crew!). We visited the museum of the Welsh settlers (at least 5 minutes...) and then the fossil museum with actually a really good exhibition of dinosaurs for which Patagonia is famous. Strangely it was reminiscent of the era from which the local hairstyles and fashion originate. But perhaps it's us that is strange - when we walked into the local restaurant last night everyone went quiet as we were assessed by the local populace... quite unsettling but the pizzas were good so all was fine.
Shopping forecast - current conditions = poor, forecast - poor. Will keep you updated
Gill & Ant
xxx