A Very Lucky Lady!

On what I thought was my penultimate night in Posadas I’d arranged to take my homestay hosts, Christina and Julian, out for dinner. I’d asked them to choose somewhere nice. So we headed for Posadas’s poshest and I told them to order what they wanted and I would pick up the tab as a thank you for their hospitality. Christina wanted the local speciality, Subuni (sp) fish, but thought it was too expensive, and sure enough it was twice the price of the steaks…an extra 11 pesos (£1.77). I tried to explain that really £1.77 wouldn’t actually buy me as much as a cup of coffee in Madrid on the way home. Equally, I hadn’t the heart to make a big deal of just how far the British pound goes in Argentina. So Christina and I had the fish, which was absolutely beautiful. For £13 I could have ordered the most expensive wine in the house, but I held off such a feat and we chose something we all liked which was more modestly priced. At the end of the night dinner and wine for 3 at the town’s top restaurant hadn’t even cost as much as £20. Fantastic!

Christina and Julian were horrified to realise I had been in Posadas a whole month and hadn’t yet visited the Casino, so that changed after dinner. We won £8 each; all very exciting. It didn’t make up for the fact I was so engrossed in the action I didn’t notice someone burn a hole in my jacket, which cost more than £8, but nevermind. We had fun….Julian bought Champagne with his winnings. Much fuss was made in the casino when a customer bought Champagne and the whole thing was quite a spectacle….even though it was actually sparkling wine from a Bodega in Mendoza, Argentina. But I would never have realised if I hadn’t seen the label.

After our victory we headed home; it was after 1am after all on a school night, and Christina had work at 6.30am. I surfaced at 6am in order to get ready for assisting at nursery, but allowing enough time for a leisurely breakfast as I watch the dawn break on what I thought was my last full day in Misiones province.

I bussed it to nursery, and caught up with Emmanuel and his brother on the school run as I hopped off. His older sister got off the bike and we walked up the road together amicably. A different kind of school run to that outside Watsons of a morning…

I had permission to finish early, as soon as feeding time was over (at the zoo) at 11am, since I simply *had* to go shopping in preparation for returning home. After saying some fond, and not so fond farewells (mostly fond, I have to point out) I did a runner and went home for a quick shower to clean off all the nursery grime for the final time. I arrived in to town an hour before siesta and hit the shops.

The problem was I only had 15kg baggage allowance for my domestic flight to connect with the international one: Wine or Shoes?! I’d already calculated I could fit half a case of wine in my hand luggage, and if they checked its weight I would have to present the check in staff with most of it but thought it was worth the risk.

After siesta (well final gossip session and Maté (MUST re-iterate that that’s Maté the drink!) with Monica and more shopping I had a farewell party to go to, organised by the project co-ordinator, Veronica. Before getting ready for the party I’d chucked my new purchases on the bed, wondering how on earth they would fit in my case as I headed out. The other volunteers had threatened for at least the last fortnight that I would not be sleeping prior to my flight out of Posadas in the morning, promising me “a night I could not forget” in the Latino and Chumba room at Power nightclub/dance emporium, with our eclectic collection of Latino friends . However, I planned to be tucked up in bed at a sensible time ready for the next day’s packing and journeying.

A couple of glasses of wine into the party, and we started on the food amid much conviviality. Someone asked me what time my flight was from Posadas and Veronica heard me reply. She informed me that I had the wrong time as the timetable had been reduced to one flight per day. Lesson One: Always confirm your return flights 72 hours in advance, just like it says on the ticket! (A transport planner really ought to know that)

There was a sudden, mutual realisation amongst the guests, myself included, that I would have to get the overnight bus if I was to stand any chance of catching my international flight to Madrid the next day. Only…….. both overnight buses to Buenos Aires departed within 90 minutes of this realisation.

I can’t really describe these 90 minutes. 3 months of happy travels, and then only 90 minutes to wrap it up; say my goodbyes to my month long friends (the organisers and my co-workers), to get back to the homestay and pack, say goodbye, to get to the bus station, buy a ticket and assuming all was OK, board.

Prior to this realisation my thoughts had been very much on matters at home, as so much was going on. My mind was also wrapped up in the nursery, the girls’ home, my shopping list and my new friends. I had given no consideration to the journey home. I guess I didn’t want to think about going back!

Anyway, back to the party and the moment of realisation: enter centre stage The Good Samaritan(s) in the form of Norma and Fernando, Veronica’s parents. Within seconds they’d whisked me off to Christina and Julian’s house. Many traffic lights through the city were at red, but that didn’t stop us. Fernando fished out a dustbin bag from the car and scooped up all the things that didn’t quite fit in my case, bundling them and me into the car.. Never let it be said that an Argentine doesn’t know how to drive: Fernando was parked up at the out of town bus station a few moments later.

At the ticket office I realised the bus wasn’t going to get me to Buenos Aires in time to connect with the flight, so Norma did a cultural and linguistic translation of my request to the bus company staff “Can you get the bus to stop before Buenos Aires city centre so I can scoot round the ring road in a taxi/remise to get to the airport, PLEASE?” Remarkably the answer was yes. Even better the staff let me get cash back on my visa, since I didn’t have enough cash to pay for the taxi, or departure taxes or anything else. I was astounded at people’s willingness to come to my aid and how swiftly and efficiently the situation was handled. This after all is the country where it took me two hours, a passport and a driving licence to buy a hairdryer in cash worth four pounds. The bus left half an hour later than we were expecting which gave me time to pack properly (at the bus stance), and to buy the men in the ticket office some thank you chocolates. Fernando was quite certain all my stuff would not fit in my bag, and thought it hilarious I was even going to attempt it. Whilst I may not be good at confirming flights, one thing I am not so bad at is packing. And those shoes just had to fit in the bag! They did. Just. In the picture here I was whistling at the dog who had enjoyed assisting me in my packing efforts. Shame he’s not in the picture because every South American bus station I’ve seen had at least one friendly stray dog to see you off/welcome you to the town.

So Norma and Fernando were good enough to wave me off from the bus, having been responsible for organising all, and getting me and my things out of serious hot water. I really can’t thank them enough; they are the stars of the show. Before I departed we even had time for a chat. Norma mentioned how surprised she was that I seemed to be all smiles and apparently coping considering the traumatic start to my homeward journey….she put it down to my Qué Sera attitude (this must be a new or temporary attribute!). She thought it hilarious that I was particular over which bus company I was prepared to travel with, to Buenos Aires that night (from the choice of two). As she was telling me this and much more, I thought of my friend Richard H (Nic Sq) who would never believe her…he once came to my rescue in central London after I’d had a disastrous visit within Europe and, as well he knows, I was in quite a state J

On the bus I wanted to confirm with the attendant that I was going to be dropped off in the morning at an appropriate place to connect with the pre-booked remise (taxi) ….I was concerned it was all a bit too good to be true. Unfortunately the attendant didn’t come round for over 10 hours, by which time I was definitely ready for dinner but more importantly really needed a drink (I mean water!) as the last thing I’d had was the wine at the party. I had also discovered the nursery had given me a parting gift: one almighty cold! Under normal circumstances I would never embark on a 14 hour bus journey without water and probably biscuits (!) but this was an exception.

So, the attendant finally emerged from wherever he was hiding, sometime after the sun came up the next morning. I asked him for confirmation that it was still alright to stop at the agreed place so I could connect with my flight and he replied that it was definitely not a possibility. Oh dear. There was absolutely no way I could make my flight from Buenos Aires to Madrid if the bus was not able to let me alight before Retiro bus terminal in the centre of Buenos Aires. With little cash, a Visa debit card linked to an empty current account, and a cancelled Visa credit card (its identity was stolen in London while I was away, so I had to cancel it and make do without) I wasn’t sure how I was going to get myself out of this pickle. For almost an hour, whilst on the bus I tried to call the flight ticket agent in London, but I couldn’t get through. Eventually I decided to do the unthinkable and call my mother with the news that I would be missing my flight. My phone had intermittent reception and when it did work it cut off every 60 seconds on international calls. Lesson 999 of the day, never call your Mother when you are the other side of the world in a trauma!

Shortly after, as we were nearing the outskirks of Buenos Aires a different attendant came through to the cabin. I have not worked out where he managed to hide for the previous 13-14 hours or so, but it doesn’t matter…he had some fantastic news. The bus was stopping in a couple of minutes where I was to alight, and hop into the waiting remise (taxi) which the lovely man in the bus terminal in Posadas had organised for me. Wow!

Sure enough, two minutes later I was speeding along the BA equivalent of London’s North Circular in the back of remise. I have no idea how the driver cut through all the traffic with his car and passenger in tact, nor how it took him only 4o minutes to circumnavigate one of the world’s biggest cities…I was told to allow 90 mins, but I am very grateful for his efforts. (All £9 worth!) I got to the airport to find my flight was an hour earlier than my ticket stated and was just about to board. The Iberia check in desk was open, but the clerk pointed out if I’d been another 10 minutes I would have missed my flight altogether. The airport was quiet and I was at the gate within 10 minutes… I joined the end of the boarding queue but spied some Alfajores (chocolate biscuits) perfect for the office and just had sufficient pesos to make a purchase before I strolled on to tarmac, last to board. Imagine the strife I’d be in if I’d returned without chocolates for the office!!

What a close call; I was incredibly fortunate and I am so thankful for everyone’s assistance, right from the farewell party in Posadas through to the security staff almost 1,000 miles further south. (thanks is insufficient, but will have to do!). An auspicious journey; and a very lucky passenger.

In Madrid I had time to watch the third sunrise since I last slept (I’ve always found a sleeper service a bit of a misnomer). At Heathrow my parents met me, and we headed to Putney to see one of my closest friends Sarah for food and a gossip which was the perfect trip end. We had until teatime in London until our train home (pre-booked cheap tickets!); I got back to my parents’ house 59 hours after my last sleep, and well ready for a cuppa. The welcoming party were out in force and after a goodnight’s sleep I sat down for Sunday lunch…a big steak and an even bigger glass of Malbec……only with Yorkshire Puddings. Hurrah!!

By the way, anyone who has read this far gets a gold star for effort. Thanks!

For Monica

Well Reader,

Ever since I arrived in Posadas the Siesta has been a wee predicament. For four hours in the middle of every day everything in the town is closed. Shops, cafes, offices, the works. There is only one place which is open; el Shopping, which is similar to a small version of Princes Square in Glasgow. The most expensive shops are located here and there is a café and cinema.

I haven’t really mastered the afternoon siesta…I’ve tried but haven’t adjusted….the only times I can sleep are if there is a very late night the night before. Towns when everything is closed always seem to be a bit depressing and on the two afternoons a week I am not “working” there is always the question of what to do. Four hours is not long enough to go far out of town, and without a scooter (!) it is difficult to access the countryside or places of interest outwith Posadas. Although I could bother myself to go by bus if I had a specific destination in mind. A riverside walk (pictured) and a cup of coffee with a good book takes a fair chunk of the four hours but rainy afternoons are rather dull.

So in the first week of siesta boredom I wandered past a sign in el shopping for an offer which said “hand massage and manicure, 15 pesos” (£2.40).

My Mother always uses the state of one’s nails as a biological indicator of wellbeing….In the last few years I had become a nail biter so didn’t fair well by this indicator. I was determined that I would go home from this trip with unbitten nails (particularly to re-iterate to my mum that travel was good for me). So somewhat bored, I stumbled in to el Shopping and was introduced to my new friend, Monica.

Until last year Monica worked as a lumberjack, which is the surprising career of many women in this province of Misiones where much of the economy is based on timber. She worked her way up to team leader, supervising men and women before she decided to change tack and become a manicurist. On the first visit to her I was there two hours…she doesn’t get many customers in siesta time and she is meticulous about her work so she seemed happy to take her time. As it transpired it was probably good for me that it did take so long, for whilst she laboured over Las Unas we talked and laughed, shared Mate (the drink), shared opinions and I improved my Spanish and she her English. And we both had a very pleasant afternoon. The following week I returned, along with the next, and the next. During our times together we’ve discussed almost everything you can think of, particularly girly topics, and we have much in common. So, whilst some people may think it an odd kind of friendship since I had to pay £2.50 each week for our gossip sessions, it worked out very well and I have made a really good friend.

I have tried not to commit to staying in touch with lots of people I’ve met, simply because I am lazy and life gets busy, but I am certain Monica and I will be email pals for a long time to come, and besides I want to improve my Latin American Spanish and she wants to work on her English. And neither of us want to spend much money on it.

I promised to put a picture of her “handy work” on the blog so here we are. Monica, if I am allowed out on another adventure, it will be thanks to you! But most of all thanks so much for some very happy afternoons.

Independence Day - Paraguayan Style

Well Reader,

It had to be done...I couldn’t put off a trip to the much ridiculed Paraguay for any longer. I´d hoped to get across the Paraná River before my last few days in Latin America to see the ruins of the Jesuit Mission at Trinidad in Paraguay. It’s a World Heritage Site, but it´s a full day´s trip and on the weekend I did have time I didn´t have any cash. But that´s another story!

Encarnatión, Paraguay´s second city is a few kilometres from Posadas over the bridge, a vital link in Paraguay´s economy since most of the country´s GDP is derived from its exports to Argentina and Brazil. I gather Encarnatión is best known for its Contraband and smuggling.

Paraguay has a population of 6 million....a little more than Scotland I suppose. It declared Independence from Spain on May 14, 1811. This is a handy fact to know in advance if you are planning a shopping trip on May 14th-15th which are bank holidays. It would be difficult to spend much money in Paraguay even if you are buying legit goods and services, but as it was I spent even less.

It´s a strange country; laughed at by its neighbours for being inbred, poor, corrupt and out of touch with the rest of the world. When we were in Iguazu, three little boys were harassing Colin and I for money...I offered them 50 centavados each (8p, which is enough for a one scoop ice cream) on the condition that they would pose against the flag pole for each of three countries we could see....Brazil, Paraguay and Argentina. No-one wanted to be Paraguay. War nearly broke out but fortunately they spied other tourists to harass and wanted to wrap it up as fast as possible. Mr Paraguay later demanded more cash for his efforts. He didn´t get any.This was my first glimpse of what Paraguay might be, and if I was the wee boy in Iguazu I now realise I might have demanded more cash too. What I saw of Paraguay was not exactly beautiful. Admittedly I only saw the city and not countryside, which I am sure is more attractive but I understand why there was no "Haste Ye Back" sign on exiting the country. I think the only comparisions one could make with the UK is an impoverished, giant version of Ingliston Market (as was) or Hemswell Cliff (Lincs). Possibly a run down version of Skegness on a wet winter weekend…

Despite this, and although everything most things were shut for the bank holiday, parts of the city still had an air of vibrancy about them. It seemed full of opportunists searching for ways to make a quick buck (or Guaraní). I went with my homestay and when we parked up for a wander a boy offered to guard the car. Half an hour later a better car rolled up and he came to find us to get his cash before going off for richer pickings.
There is no middle class in Paraguay. Paraguayans are either rich or poor. It´s a very hand-to-mouth existence for those in the latter catagory. We had to queue for well over an hour to get back in to Argentina on the bridge. You don´t need to look at the number plate to see which drivers are Paraguayan...you can tell by whether they are being pushed by hand like this one(Paraguayan), or whether they are being driven (rest of world). If the traffic is walking speed, and the terrain is flat the Paraguayan will always push his motor to conserve fuel. Or because the car doesn´t work.

I am conscious that I am judging an entire country merely on the basis of a short tourist visit to one city, in the same way as I criticised someone else´s judgement of Posadas. I hope I am not doing it a great injustice. I gather nearly half the population live in the countryside, and there is luscious sub tropical vegetation, jungle and wetlands. So I wish I’d had time to go out of the city and explore it because I am sure it beats Encarnatión... Sorry, I shouldn’t really say “I wish I had time” when I have had three months!.

Almost all of Paraguay’s electricity comes from Itapu, the world’s biggest hydroelectric dam, a joint venture between Paraguay and Brazil. Colin and I visited this when we went to Brazil. Unfortunately the ecological impact of the dam was an increase in mosquitoes and a huge rise in the Dengue fever they carry, which is a disease that sounds thoroughly unpleasant with no known cure or vaccine. Most people recover, but the secret is not to get bitten in the first place.

Anyway, it was good to go to Paraguay, not least for the passport stamp. Although if you have a non-Latin American passport, expect to wait a long long time at the border crossing as it is a novelty for the officials to have a foreigner to delay. The greatest benefit of the day trip was the new perspective it gave me; Posadas has never looked quite so resplendent as it did from Paraguay. (as per picture)

Intercambia Culturales

Well Reader,

Much to report since last update, and much has been happening which isn´t for the blog. For my nearest and dearest in Auld Reekie, Cumbria and in Jersey in various traumas, not that it helps, I am thinking of you. Particularly sorry to hear about Uncle John...the best Great Uncle a girl could have. A hard working man who was full of mischief (of the nicest sort), wit and goodness.

Meanwhile here, much to my dismay I´m on the home straight of my trip and it´s been busy........

Other than the Cathedral and the trees in the square and the river (pictured) Posadas is not a beautiful city. If you were a backpacker or tourist there isn´t much reason for you to linger here. There is some money and some magnificent houses, but the population at large just manage to keep their heads above water. There is not a lot going on for the visitor and I would not have spent time here, other than when changing buses if it wasn´t for the community project I saw advertised. And yet, four weeks since my arrival here, I find the prospect of leaving Posadas a real wrench, for in this little city I have found such warmth and cheer and such rewards in the work I´ve been doing that I have no desire to move on. If effort and non-monetary reward was measured by the gram, then for almost every gram of hard graft I have put in (and by my little standards it is has been hard work!) I have reaped in kilos in reward. The old adage "Give and you´ll receive" rings true for me, here.

Blogging meanwhile has tailed off....a quick flick through and I realise I´ve barely touched on half the themes, topics and events I meant to write about (My reader is probably glad about that!). In fact I have omitted Brasil and Paraguay altogether thus far.

Next week when I am finished I will miss my little friends at nursery. I won´t miss their little companions (e.g their nits, worms etc). Of course I don´t have favourites, but if I did it would be Lario (pictured) who has such a lovely temperament and helps me sort out all the squabbles....he knows all the pacifying Spanish words. And he is toilet trained! The previous nursery nurse has been replaced by another, who I get on really well with although there´s not much time for chatting. I am glad I stuck out this element of the project, entirely for selfish reasons....I am under no illusion that the children will remember me past next week, or that I made any lasting contribution to the nursery, but I shall remember them with a smile, and the things I´ve learnt here.

Marcelo, my favourite taxi driver (and I think I must have met most of them now) first mentioned the term they have for volunteers here; "Intercambia Culturales"....a person on a cultural exchange. They are not familiar with the concept of volunteer work in Argentina, but I like the idea of being an Intercambia Culturales better than that of volunteer because it really is me that´s learning. I have always found that there can be an air of arrogance in some volunteer-types, no matter what the project or the location, and I absolutely loathe it. Note I am primarily referring to organisations/projects which take on semi-skilled workers like me, rather than organisations like Medicins Sans Frontiers or VSO which require you to excel in your field in your own country first. So, anyway I am happy to say I am an Intercambia Culturales, even if I can´t spell it. I am here to learn, to enjoy and to experience a different culture by immersing myself in it. Who´s to say my European attitudes provide a better, happier quality of life than the Latino methods? The Argentines in spite of such economic adversity really seem to have it sorted. There´s joy and laughter and a real sense of life in all it´s fullness everywhere, and that´s what I hope to remember most from my experiences here. If they remember anything of me though, I do hope it is to wash their hands after using the toilet.

Having said that, I must re-iterate how thankful I am to be British. I would not want to relinquish my British passport for the world (or more particularly an Argentine passport). It´s fabulous to be from a country which enjoys stable Governance and a great economy....whatever one might think about specific issues, conflicts or politicians. So every day for the last three months I have been celebrating the power of the pound and the opportunities that have been afforded simply by being a middle class Brit. Particularly in the wine shop. I am very fortunate indeed.

Anyway, on to the girls´ home. The girls´ home which I have been working at in the afternoons is a little harder work than the nursery, I find, but it is easy to make a longer term impression and bring about direct improvements to the girls´ lives. The home is absolutely filthy and the girls have materially very little to keep them occupied. (pictured in the yard playing with the cards I brought over). In spite of this and the terrible lives the girls have experienced to date, particularly abuse, they have such joy to share with us.

As soon as us volunteers walk in we are set upon; within seconds they are clamouring all over us, fingers in our hair, kisses all over our faces etc. Strictly speaking it is two kisses here on greeting a person, but the girls dish out at least quadruple that before we are allowed to move. It took me a while to get over the stench emanating from the place, but for their sake it´s essential not to turn your nose up. There´s less than a week of this left but I am getting through the antibacterial hand gel at a rate of knots.

The woman who runs the home works incredibly hard. I am absolutely shattered after three hours and all the volunteers have to do is provide entertainment for the afternoon. The woman in charge runs the place for 23 extremely troubled girls and does all the work herself including teaching them. I simply have no idea how.

There are four of us volunteers "working" there and we plan the activities beforehand but the important thing I think is just to show them a good time and spend some time doing fun things which they otherwise don´t get to do. We´ve been to the park, played games, walked, had English lessons...nothing wildly exciting, but they can´t get enough of it. Bobby, a student from Portsmouth is particularly popular...he wears trendy low slung jeans that fall down if he´s running which the has the girls in hysterics.

I hope one day the girls will be equipped with the resources to deal with the world outside, to face their pasts and to lead fulfilling lives, but in the interim I hope our afternoon sessions have helped them a long a little bit.

So, Chao for now. More soon.

A View from the Hammock

Well Reader,

Another update from Posadas where I am sitting in my new winter hat as the temperature plummeted to 5.c in the last couple of days. Though it´s now warmed up to 12.c. Stupidly I posted my fleece hat back home when I arrived in Posadas and the temperature was 39.c.

This week the placement at the nursery continued as normal.... I am not integrating into the community as much as I thought on my project as I am left to look after the toddlers mostly en solo. The children (all 2 years old) are lovely, and I´m building up relationships (you know what I mean!!) with them easily, but the adults are less easy to mix with and consequently I might have a richer experience by paying someone else to do my job...one pound 50p per day....... whilst I hang out with the locals (getting good at that!).


Last week we had to fumigate the class room so we moved everything out, including the babies in their cots in order to deal with the infestation. I still don´t know what the room was infested with but for the staff to bother about it, it must have been bad. Hygiene remains terrible but seemingly children grow up to be healthy here and will be able to read, write and send their own children to the nursery in only 14 years´time.

On Friday I intervened in a wee punch up...more cloth traumas...one of the boys had a nasty bleeding nose and mouth but I didn´t want to use the revolting nappy change brillo pad or the floor cloth, and since there is never any toilet roll I decided that some bread would do the job. It did, but wee kiddie was a bit confused! The girls´ home is now on in the afternoons, which is much more rewarding, but equally filthy and germ infested....more on that next time.

Anyway, that was weekdays, now on last weekend. I had a visitor. Woo-hoo! And not just any visitor...Alastair B (from Church) and I had been trying to work out how to meet up somewhere on this continent. Bariloche was 2-3,000km away from Antofagasta whereas Posadas is a mere 1,500km away (3 flights and 5 airports or 35 bus hours or apparently 3 days on a motorbike). Due to my timetabling I was going to struggle to get to Antofagasta in the Atacama desert so I am delighted to say Antofagasta came to visit me..

There isn´t much in for visitors to Posadas, unless you are visiting for the famed, a-hem, Love Motels, and I have been craving to get to countryside ever since I finished the cycling holiday. So we arranged to go to Ibera, which is one of the World´s biggest wetlands, home to Caimen, Monkeys and over 350 species of birds...and a really nice Estancia (hotel/lodge). Ibera is maybe 300km+ from here, of which 120km requires a 4*4.

It was my first real 4*4 experience, and was a complete baptism of fire. It was dark the entire journey but that didn´t matter because the windows were frequently mud-caked. The lights kept needing to be washed though. It had been raining and the track was terrible. The driver of our long wheel base Defender (important detail for my little bro) Maurico was very capable as well as very good looking.....bit of a shock though when he called me Senora (not Senorita) and I realised I was old enough to be his mother!

It took us 5 hours to reach the Estancia during which time we skidded and spun all over the track but thankfully didn´t get stuck or roll, yet I was left wishing my water bottle was Vodka. Mum would have loved it!! We later learned that Maurico and the Landrover, who returned to Posadas immediately after dropping us off, ended up in the Laguna, Maurico swimming out to escape the sunken vehicle. He´s lost his pride and his CD collection, but he was fine despite a very long wet walk home. The submerged landrover was recovered and is now drying out. It was his Uncle who transfered us back to Posadas on Monday, giving Maurico a driving lesson at the same time.

The first morning we woke up and realised what an incredible place we were in. It was perfect. We could watch the humming birds at the flowers from the lounge/dining room/patio, the wading birds from the poolside and everything else from the comfort of the hammocks. Alastair took this hummingbird picture...very difficult to get!! Credit to Alastair for most of the other pictures too....thanks! We were there for 2.5 days and managed 3 boat rides, mostly at sunset, swimming, horse riding (a cabalgata) and a monkey spotting stroll through the forest. I wouldn´t have missed those experiences for the world, bar the cabalgata where the horses bolted*, but I was also happy just to sit in the hammock, and just, well, be. When I said that to the other volunteers they said "What? You never sit still for more than a few minutes." After some thought I realised they were right. However I hadn´t been to Ibera before and I really felt like I was in the right place at the right time with the right friend. We made some new friends too...Renata and Gunter from Germany.

There were kayaks at our disposal but unfortunately they were located 100 metres from the hammock.... too far away to bother about when the hammock was just sooooooooo comfortable. I´ll have to make the effort to use those next time!

After a hard day´s relaxing on Sunday we did manage to drag ourselves to an evening show: a spectacular Son et lumière effort put on by Mother Nature herself. A tin roof to hear the rain on, a window to watch the lightening from and a good bottle of Chilean wine (imported by Alastair for a special occasion), shared with Renata and Gunter along with some good stories. Absolutely perfect.

Here are a few of Alastair's photos from the wetlands....the spider metropolis (each blob is a spider in a mass of cobwebs), the Carpincho, the world´s biggest rodent at over 1m long, the Caimen, woodpeckers, federal, etc. Loads!


It was very hard to leave Ibera, partly because I´d had such a good time and the place was so beautiful, but also because it had been raining hard which meant the 4*4 transfer would be even more hairy than the outward journey. And it was! Our driver was incredibly skilled but I still had to keep my eyes shut for quite a chunk of the voyage....too scared to look!

On arrival back in Posadas the welcoming committee (other volunteers) spied us from the cafe as we walked past so we headed in for beers.

Salud!

Buenos Aires (Mid April)

Well Reader....

The big bad city is not so big or bad as I anticipated. In fact, for a city, it is great fun. Workers finished their Easter holidays and are now back in action, and the city was buzzing.

My guidebook says BA looks like Paris, tastes like Italy and moves with the pace of New York. I can vouch for the first too. The buildings definately spell P-A-R-I-S but I am not convinced it has NY´s pace though.

I´ve been getting the tube to class which was exciting for the first 10 mins but then with the temperature in the 20s and humidity 70-90% it is hot and sticky and the underground is jam packed with commuters despite the fact that there are only 4 tube lines, none of which are well connected. People seem to wait for 3 trains at peak times before boarding.

Buenos Aires provided some interesting contrasts; we had hi tech security systems in the apartment we rented in leafy Palermo....Colin could put his feet up and watch the CCTV on the widescreen TV to check when I was coming home, and more importantly nosey at the neighbours. Virtually all apartment blocks in our posh suburb had a security guard on the door, some apartments had fingerprint screening before you got as far as the security guard. In addition to top notch security, in the apartment we had 80 TV channels, a champagne bucket and other drinks accessories but no oven and only 2 weak electric hob rings, upon which the traditional kettle took forever to boil. Unfortunately (or fortunately for my bank balance) the city has not yet discovered take out coffee, so those with a caffine dependency need to be patient.

In a way the apartment rather reflected my previous observations of Argentinian life; that the refinements, appearance and the polish of sophistication were present, but some of the basics (e.g.oven) were lacking.

I also discovered why all the brasswork on door ways is so well polished. Etiquette apparently rules that women in BA are allowed to roam around with a compact mirror in front of their face, whilst boys have to make do with examining their reflection in the brass door bell panels. It obviously does the job though, all the boys look very terribly well groomed. I caught this chap tidying himself up outside our apartment :-)

The apartment was a lovely place to stay and it was fantastic to have our own space for a while. The only minor flaw was the lack of proximity to decent eateries, most of which are affordable when you travel on the British Pound at the moment....an opportunity I didn´t want to miss! Almost all were a taxi ride away. Unfortunately taxis are reputedly the weakest aspect of safety and security in the city and it is recommended that you always phone a radio taxi instead of hailing any old taxi on-street. Whilst Colin was happy for me to hop in a taxi, he wasn´t keen to be in one himself, especially at night. So we were limited to restaurants within walking distance for the most part. (unless I phoned, of course!)

Although one night we did manage a night out with Helen, an English Patent Attorney and Thursden, an editor/journalist from Chicago, who I´d met at the language school. We subsequently agreed to don our finery the next night and head for a special night out........a sophisticated Dinner and Tango show. Unfortunately due to the aforementioned taxi constraints we were not at the appointed time and place and to my shame and embarrassment Helen and Thursden were stood up by Colin and I. So if they are reading this....here´s one almightly SORRY!

It means there is only one thing for it, I will have to find a friend and head back to Buenos Aires to see a proper Tango show on another trip. (NB pic above - thanks for the frisbee girls!)

My language school was mornings only so that gave us time to squeeze in plenty sight seeing. We packed in most of the tick list (except a football game at La Boca which neither of us were bothered about).......unfortunately the reputedly wonderful Theatre Colon was closed for renovation, so we went for afternoon tea at Cafe Tortoni http://www.cafetortoni.com.ar an art nouveau coffee house much loved by intellectuals and poets. And me.

We went to Reloceta cemetery (think Evita) where each ornate tombstone was bigger than each shanty house in the neighbouring Retiro area (think bus station). I also dragged Colin along to the Plaza de Mayo on the Thursday at 3.30pm to witness the Madres de los Desaparecidos in my quest to understand a bit more about recent Argentine History. The mothers of the disappeared have split in to two groups. They no longer campaign for Government action, but instead in addition to their act of remembrance they channel their energies in to campaigning for other causes, most of which seem to have very definate left leanings. We didn´t hang about long but I am glad I was there to see their witness. There were obvious parallels between the Mothers´ witness and our Armistice Day, except that this is what a country´s Government did to its citizens rather than a world scale conflict between different countries.

We watched the flag go down at 6pm outside the Casa Rosada, Government House. The homeless man also enjoys the spectacle...he was there with a wry smile for the tourists 2 nights running. Apparently Government House is pink to symbolise national unity....the red of the Federalists and the white of the Unitarians. All the provinces have pink Government Houses too. And I just thought pink looked pretty!


On to cheerier matters...one of BA´s greatest sights, to my mind is the Paseadores, professional dog walkers who manage to walk up to 30 dogs at once negociating the busy streets of Buenos Aires. Here´s Colin´s Abbey Road shot. The rest were too quick for us to take pictures of! Incidentally we didn´t spy any car wash places, just plenty dog washes.


Meanwhile the cats hide out in the safety of the botanic gardens ....

Chao!