Saturday 10 April
Buenos Aires
Today was my last night in BA. Jenni (a girl Ryan met in Cusco who had been staying with us) cooked us stir fry which was nice. Then Alain, Ryan and I went to the local pub – called Shamrock, yes it was an Irish bar – for our final drink with just the three of us and some emotional bonding. We talked about Betty Davis and her eyes, and other things.
After that we went back to the pub crawl, again in San Telmo, and spent the evening doing that. I took it a fraction easier than the previous time, especially as I had an early flight the next day. We didn’t go to the club, just the bars. We had a good time and thankfully there were more girls on the crawl this time than before. We still managed to get home pretty late and I must have collapsed at some ungodly hour.
It was, as ever, great to see Alain again and to make a new friend in Ryan. It seemed like I had known him all my life and he considered me like a brother, which was great. And Alain will always be one of my best friends. Hopefully we’ll see each other again sometime soon.
Saturday 29 May 2010
Lovecats
Friday 9 April
Buenos Aires
Again not much to remember from the day. We generally took it easy, you know?
There was one memorable thing that happened though. We were in some shop that also had telephone cabins and internet. There was a computer right by the door and there was an old, fat man using it. Bear in mind that the screen was positioned so that basically anyone in the shop could see it. As we were waiting for something I noticed he was looking at some site which basically had a whole bunch of men with their bits out and in various poses, sometimes with other men. I pointed it out to Ryan and then we both cracked up. Like with a car crash we didn’t want to look but somehow we kept looking back. It wasn’t pretty.
In the evening we met up with Lu and her friends again. It was a reggae bar. We had some food and went to a nightclub. Lu said it was full of cats. Cats (gattos) is slang for girls who are “up for it” as it were. Alain said he had his arse pinched four times, which would make sense. I danced. Lu said I was a good dancer, which was nice.
Buenos Aires
Again not much to remember from the day. We generally took it easy, you know?
There was one memorable thing that happened though. We were in some shop that also had telephone cabins and internet. There was a computer right by the door and there was an old, fat man using it. Bear in mind that the screen was positioned so that basically anyone in the shop could see it. As we were waiting for something I noticed he was looking at some site which basically had a whole bunch of men with their bits out and in various poses, sometimes with other men. I pointed it out to Ryan and then we both cracked up. Like with a car crash we didn’t want to look but somehow we kept looking back. It wasn’t pretty.
In the evening we met up with Lu and her friends again. It was a reggae bar. We had some food and went to a nightclub. Lu said it was full of cats. Cats (gattos) is slang for girls who are “up for it” as it were. Alain said he had his arse pinched four times, which would make sense. I danced. Lu said I was a good dancer, which was nice.
Another Day in Paradise
Thursday 8 April
Buenos Aires
I don’t remember much of what we did today. Probably not much interesting. It was Claire’s last evening in BA so we met up in a swanky restaurant with her, Lu, and some other friends of theirs. Had a good meal and a good chat. Everyone else went to a nightclub (called 69) but I didn’t, I was tired. Alain has been snoring.
Buenos Aires
I don’t remember much of what we did today. Probably not much interesting. It was Claire’s last evening in BA so we met up in a swanky restaurant with her, Lu, and some other friends of theirs. Had a good meal and a good chat. Everyone else went to a nightclub (called 69) but I didn’t, I was tired. Alain has been snoring.
Thursday 27 May 2010
I Know a Lot about Art, but I Don’t Know What I Like
Wednesday 7 April
Buenos Aires
Alain is such a ponce. Always talking about how the post-modernist idiom has thrown the contemporary art market into throws of self-referential plagiarism that exposes the void of morality at the centre of not only Western culture but also our society as a whole as well as indeed the human condition. And he always passes up a no-nonsense pint of wife-beater for an appletini or some such*.
So Alain thought it would be good to a modern art gallery. Talk about a clash of cultures. We walked around for a couple of hours before he thought about asking for his money back. There was a nice bench thing that turned into spaghetti though.
I’m kind of over modern art. I used to love it as a kid. After all, walking around a gallery with big splashes of paint over the walls seems a lot more exciting than ponderous representations of historical events that I knew nothing about. Then when at school it turned out I had a natural talent at both representational and abstract art it led me to learning about art history. Knowing the reasoning behind why art is like it is gives it an extra dimension and increases your appreciation of it. But then you realise that any modern art can be given justification, like the hyperbole I wrote in the first paragraph of this post. Then your appreciation of art comes down to simple personal preference. And for me (and for many others) the main focus of modern art these days is either humour, or visceral visual impact. And you don’t need to go to an art gallery for that. Particularly when that is hidden behind the pretence of ideological rubbish. All they need to say is “I decided to throw a big splash of paint over the wall because IT LOOKS FUCKING COOL!!! Lol!” That would be more honest than saying it a representation of society’s ability to blah blah blah and challenges the viewer to stretch his credibility to take what I’m saying seriously...” etc.
I still like Paul Klee though. I think he’s awesome.
Aaaanyway we went to a modern art museum in the morning. It was OK.
We ate in that evening with lasagne and calamari and salad. We met up with Claire (a girl Ryan met on the pub crawl) in the evening. Lu recommended the bar, saying it “explodes” at night. The fuse must have got damp or something as there were about five people there, including us. I was tired. I unintentionally cockblocked Alain. That was kind of it.
*not really
Buenos Aires
Alain is such a ponce. Always talking about how the post-modernist idiom has thrown the contemporary art market into throws of self-referential plagiarism that exposes the void of morality at the centre of not only Western culture but also our society as a whole as well as indeed the human condition. And he always passes up a no-nonsense pint of wife-beater for an appletini or some such*.
So Alain thought it would be good to a modern art gallery. Talk about a clash of cultures. We walked around for a couple of hours before he thought about asking for his money back. There was a nice bench thing that turned into spaghetti though.
I’m kind of over modern art. I used to love it as a kid. After all, walking around a gallery with big splashes of paint over the walls seems a lot more exciting than ponderous representations of historical events that I knew nothing about. Then when at school it turned out I had a natural talent at both representational and abstract art it led me to learning about art history. Knowing the reasoning behind why art is like it is gives it an extra dimension and increases your appreciation of it. But then you realise that any modern art can be given justification, like the hyperbole I wrote in the first paragraph of this post. Then your appreciation of art comes down to simple personal preference. And for me (and for many others) the main focus of modern art these days is either humour, or visceral visual impact. And you don’t need to go to an art gallery for that. Particularly when that is hidden behind the pretence of ideological rubbish. All they need to say is “I decided to throw a big splash of paint over the wall because IT LOOKS FUCKING COOL!!! Lol!” That would be more honest than saying it a representation of society’s ability to blah blah blah and challenges the viewer to stretch his credibility to take what I’m saying seriously...” etc.
I still like Paul Klee though. I think he’s awesome.
Aaaanyway we went to a modern art museum in the morning. It was OK.
We ate in that evening with lasagne and calamari and salad. We met up with Claire (a girl Ryan met on the pub crawl) in the evening. Lu recommended the bar, saying it “explodes” at night. The fuse must have got damp or something as there were about five people there, including us. I was tired. I unintentionally cockblocked Alain. That was kind of it.
*not really
Somehow a Final Connection Is Made
Tuesday 6 April
Buenos Aires
I slept a lot today. After yesterday it was necessary. We walked around town to look for some cables to connect an iPod and my computer to the TV. We luckily found somewhere and bought a couple of cables. When we returned home, we could connect the iPod but the TV one didn’t work. Oh well.
Interestingly while we were out we came across a large bookshop. We walked in and I suddenly thought to myself, why do I feel like I’m in a theatre? I looked around and realised that was exactly where we were, a place that used to be a theatre which had now been converted into a large bookshop. There was an information board that told us that this place was voted the second best bookshop in the world. Well, it was my kind of place. Almost.
We went for a meal in the evening. Apparently. That’s what it says in my notes. I think it was the night that we went to a nice steak place with a local girl called Lu that knew some of Alain’s friends when they visited BA before. If so, it was a really nice place and great food, though sitting near to the grill meant that it was a bit hot for us.
We went for ice creams afterwards and then went to bed relatively early given yesterday’s events.
Buenos Aires
I slept a lot today. After yesterday it was necessary. We walked around town to look for some cables to connect an iPod and my computer to the TV. We luckily found somewhere and bought a couple of cables. When we returned home, we could connect the iPod but the TV one didn’t work. Oh well.
Interestingly while we were out we came across a large bookshop. We walked in and I suddenly thought to myself, why do I feel like I’m in a theatre? I looked around and realised that was exactly where we were, a place that used to be a theatre which had now been converted into a large bookshop. There was an information board that told us that this place was voted the second best bookshop in the world. Well, it was my kind of place. Almost.
We went for a meal in the evening. Apparently. That’s what it says in my notes. I think it was the night that we went to a nice steak place with a local girl called Lu that knew some of Alain’s friends when they visited BA before. If so, it was a really nice place and great food, though sitting near to the grill meant that it was a bit hot for us.
We went for ice creams afterwards and then went to bed relatively early given yesterday’s events.
They Say It’s Your Birthday
Monday 5 April
Buenos Aires
So today we found an apartment. Easter Monday isn’t a public holiday in Argentina thankfully so we can finally get the ball rolling. We meet up with a guy called Santiago who sorted out Justin’s flat and he shows us a couple of places. The first is a bit pokey and has no TV so we ditch that one. The second is pretty large, had a small basement patio outside and is generally liked by all. It’s a bit cheaper than we were budgeting for so we take it. Only bad thing is that it doesn’t have wifi, but it does have an internet cable that we can join up to my laptop. It’s pretty fast too.
I have in my notes that we went clubbing. I don’t remember which club we went to or what it was like. However what I go remember is that it was Justin’s birthday, and that none of his flatmates came out with him, which was a bit rubbish of them. Not just that, it was his 30th as well.
What I do remember is that afterwards we went back to his flat and got wasted. Well, you had to do something for him. Any excuse, hey?
Buenos Aires
So today we found an apartment. Easter Monday isn’t a public holiday in Argentina thankfully so we can finally get the ball rolling. We meet up with a guy called Santiago who sorted out Justin’s flat and he shows us a couple of places. The first is a bit pokey and has no TV so we ditch that one. The second is pretty large, had a small basement patio outside and is generally liked by all. It’s a bit cheaper than we were budgeting for so we take it. Only bad thing is that it doesn’t have wifi, but it does have an internet cable that we can join up to my laptop. It’s pretty fast too.
I have in my notes that we went clubbing. I don’t remember which club we went to or what it was like. However what I go remember is that it was Justin’s birthday, and that none of his flatmates came out with him, which was a bit rubbish of them. Not just that, it was his 30th as well.
What I do remember is that afterwards we went back to his flat and got wasted. Well, you had to do something for him. Any excuse, hey?
Monday 24 May 2010
He is Risen
Sunday 4 April, Easter
Buenos Aires
Today was a very special day. With the help of a rapido wifi connection, I was able to download the first episode of the new Doctor Who series. And so today, I saw with my own eyes that he was once more alive. He had escaped the tomb (a.k.a. the TARDIS) and walked among us on Earth to perform his miracles. And did those feet, in ancient time, walk upon England’s mountains green? Well, not exactly, the action took place in the fictional village of Leadworth which didn’t seem to have any hills, but it was in England. Of course it’s all a fictional story that’s only there to help children understand and learn what morals are and how to behave in certain situations. It’s not like it’s a religion or anything. Though I will return each week to the traditional place (television, or in this case my laptop) to pay my respects.
We spent the rest of the day leisurely, and looked at more apartments with no progress as everyone was on holiday.
In the afternoon I watched Doctor Who Confidential. Well, it’s an addiction, what can I say.
In the evening we met up with Aaron again but this time not for pub crawl, but for drinks at a bar. It was right across the road from the hostel I stayed in last time I was in BA (America del Sur) and the bar itself was a nondescript red door which I had seen but hadn’t realised what was behind it. I wasn’t feeling particularly up for it given the recovery from the previous day, but they did convince me to drink a chilli bomb – a shot of vodka that had had two chillies sitting in it for three weeks, dropped into a glass of Red Bull. No one does that out of free will. Anyway it wasn’t too bad and we left relatively early, but not before I spoke briefly to the owner of the bar. After all he was playing Charlatans all evening, not something you expect in South America as all the music is either local pop latino music, or generic traveller rock music (pick from Green Day, Red Hot Chilli Peppers or Foo Fighters). He was actually from America but was very much into the indie music and British music scene, hence the choice of music.
This was apparently reflected in the clientele as he told me that Franz Ferdinand were in there a month ago, and the Magic Numbers were doing chilli shots last week. (I once bumped into the Magic Numbers at a corporate do at the Hammersmith Palais. I didn’t realise who they were at first and I thought they were a bunch of midget hippie-goths. None of them are over five foot six). I was in good company.
Buenos Aires
Today was a very special day. With the help of a rapido wifi connection, I was able to download the first episode of the new Doctor Who series. And so today, I saw with my own eyes that he was once more alive. He had escaped the tomb (a.k.a. the TARDIS) and walked among us on Earth to perform his miracles. And did those feet, in ancient time, walk upon England’s mountains green? Well, not exactly, the action took place in the fictional village of Leadworth which didn’t seem to have any hills, but it was in England. Of course it’s all a fictional story that’s only there to help children understand and learn what morals are and how to behave in certain situations. It’s not like it’s a religion or anything. Though I will return each week to the traditional place (television, or in this case my laptop) to pay my respects.
We spent the rest of the day leisurely, and looked at more apartments with no progress as everyone was on holiday.
In the afternoon I watched Doctor Who Confidential. Well, it’s an addiction, what can I say.
In the evening we met up with Aaron again but this time not for pub crawl, but for drinks at a bar. It was right across the road from the hostel I stayed in last time I was in BA (America del Sur) and the bar itself was a nondescript red door which I had seen but hadn’t realised what was behind it. I wasn’t feeling particularly up for it given the recovery from the previous day, but they did convince me to drink a chilli bomb – a shot of vodka that had had two chillies sitting in it for three weeks, dropped into a glass of Red Bull. No one does that out of free will. Anyway it wasn’t too bad and we left relatively early, but not before I spoke briefly to the owner of the bar. After all he was playing Charlatans all evening, not something you expect in South America as all the music is either local pop latino music, or generic traveller rock music (pick from Green Day, Red Hot Chilli Peppers or Foo Fighters). He was actually from America but was very much into the indie music and British music scene, hence the choice of music.
This was apparently reflected in the clientele as he told me that Franz Ferdinand were in there a month ago, and the Magic Numbers were doing chilli shots last week. (I once bumped into the Magic Numbers at a corporate do at the Hammersmith Palais. I didn’t realise who they were at first and I thought they were a bunch of midget hippie-goths. None of them are over five foot six). I was in good company.
Hey Mr. Cab Driver
Saturday 3 April
Buenos Aires
So, hungover and tired we checked out of our hostel and went over to Justin’s apartment. From there we tried to sort out an apartment but with no luck. Instead we booked into a hotel in Recoleta for a couple of nights.
That evening we met up with Aaron for the infamous BA pub crawl. Now Alain and Ryan had been complaining about BA taxis and how they had been ripped off. From what I could remember I had never been ripped off by BA taxis. But on our way to San Telmo our driver took us the wrong way and stopped somewhere that wasn’t even in San Telmo. We had been perfectly clear on our directions so I made a note of the meter and tried to say in Spanish, we won’t pay anything more. It was 15 pesos. By the time we reached our destination it was 25 pesos. We paid 15. As we got out of the cab the guy tried to protest but we just walked away and he pretty much realised the situation and didn’t do anything.
Starting in a restaurant in San Telmo we were given free beer (for the entrance fee) and free salty pizza. It turned out that there was almost no women in the 60 or 70 or so people there. Luckily Justin started talking to two English girls that made up at least 50% of the women there, and they joined our group.
We then proceeded to various bars around San Telmo and consumed a large variety of differing drinks. By the time we arrived at the last bar I was pretty wasted. I went to the toilet but the door didn’t close properly. There were some girls watching and laughing so I said “Es muy grande para tu” which isn’t particularly correct grammar (I think) but they got the message and laughed. And then one of them told me it was another’s birthday, so I obliged and gave her something to remember me by. I got some evil looks from a guy standing nearby – I think it was her boyfriend.
I rejoined the group and we headed off in a bus to a nightclub. This was a long way away as it seemed to take ages. But we entertained ourselves by singing random songs and taking stupid pictures.
Then we arrived at the club and things got a bit hazy. There was some drinking and dancing. I think I had just about decided to stop drinking when Alain gave me another bottle of Heineken. Oh well, when in Rome I thought. I took one sip and then had to rush to the toilet. This remains the first and only time I have ever been sick from alcohol.
Shortly after that we took a cab ride home with a dodgy 60 year old cab driver who tried to sell us cocaine. In addition to that when we paid he tried to tell us that the 100 peso note we paid him with was fake as a corner had been torn out of it. I remembered clearly that the note wasn’t torn when I gave it to him so, as I knew he didn’t speak English I calmly turned round to the others in the back and said “Everyone get out of the taxi now,” which they did, and then we walked away with our change and with the cab driver still pretending that we had given him the note which we hadn’t.
Thinking back on it later I think there was one occasion when a cab driver tried to pretend that I had given him the wrong note and I was pretty sure I hadn’t so I ignored him and walked out that cab as well, and nothing came of that either. It’s nice to think that I had foiled three attempts to rip me (and others) off, and two of those were on the same day.
Buenos Aires
So, hungover and tired we checked out of our hostel and went over to Justin’s apartment. From there we tried to sort out an apartment but with no luck. Instead we booked into a hotel in Recoleta for a couple of nights.
That evening we met up with Aaron for the infamous BA pub crawl. Now Alain and Ryan had been complaining about BA taxis and how they had been ripped off. From what I could remember I had never been ripped off by BA taxis. But on our way to San Telmo our driver took us the wrong way and stopped somewhere that wasn’t even in San Telmo. We had been perfectly clear on our directions so I made a note of the meter and tried to say in Spanish, we won’t pay anything more. It was 15 pesos. By the time we reached our destination it was 25 pesos. We paid 15. As we got out of the cab the guy tried to protest but we just walked away and he pretty much realised the situation and didn’t do anything.
Starting in a restaurant in San Telmo we were given free beer (for the entrance fee) and free salty pizza. It turned out that there was almost no women in the 60 or 70 or so people there. Luckily Justin started talking to two English girls that made up at least 50% of the women there, and they joined our group.
We then proceeded to various bars around San Telmo and consumed a large variety of differing drinks. By the time we arrived at the last bar I was pretty wasted. I went to the toilet but the door didn’t close properly. There were some girls watching and laughing so I said “Es muy grande para tu” which isn’t particularly correct grammar (I think) but they got the message and laughed. And then one of them told me it was another’s birthday, so I obliged and gave her something to remember me by. I got some evil looks from a guy standing nearby – I think it was her boyfriend.
I rejoined the group and we headed off in a bus to a nightclub. This was a long way away as it seemed to take ages. But we entertained ourselves by singing random songs and taking stupid pictures.
Then we arrived at the club and things got a bit hazy. There was some drinking and dancing. I think I had just about decided to stop drinking when Alain gave me another bottle of Heineken. Oh well, when in Rome I thought. I took one sip and then had to rush to the toilet. This remains the first and only time I have ever been sick from alcohol.
Shortly after that we took a cab ride home with a dodgy 60 year old cab driver who tried to sell us cocaine. In addition to that when we paid he tried to tell us that the 100 peso note we paid him with was fake as a corner had been torn out of it. I remembered clearly that the note wasn’t torn when I gave it to him so, as I knew he didn’t speak English I calmly turned round to the others in the back and said “Everyone get out of the taxi now,” which they did, and then we walked away with our change and with the cab driver still pretending that we had given him the note which we hadn’t.
Thinking back on it later I think there was one occasion when a cab driver tried to pretend that I had given him the wrong note and I was pretty sure I hadn’t so I ignored him and walked out that cab as well, and nothing came of that either. It’s nice to think that I had foiled three attempts to rip me (and others) off, and two of those were on the same day.
Waiting for My Man
Good Friday 2 April
Florianopolis – Porto Allegre, Brazil – Buenos Aires, Argentina
Over the past few days we had been trying to arrange the rental of an apartment in BA to stay in. Alain had been doing all of the work which was very generous of him. However for some reason we hadn’t managed to get final confirmation of the place that we had booked before we left. It probably didn’t help that it was Easter weekend.
We caught the flight to Porto Allegre with Aaron, an American guy from the hostel that lives in BA and works with the infamous BA pub crawl organisation. We would be making use of his connection soon enough.
At Porto Allegre Alain and Ryan bought Havaiana socks. Yes, that’s right, socks for flip flops. They looked like pederasts.
We arrived at BA in anticipation of our apartment having magically been confirmed and that there would be someone waiting for us. Unfortunately, there wasn’t, so it was plan B. A hostel.
We went to a place called Pax that Alain and Ryan had stayed at before. It was a bit cramped and smelly but it did for one night. We went out and met up with Justin, an English guy from the hostel and some American people he knew. It was a notable clash of cultures with the Americans artistic and pretentious and the rest of us, well, sports fans. I felt like I should be a translator.
We went out in Palermo to a bar called Sugar which was good fun though I was tired as fuck. We had some fun and then went home.
Florianopolis – Porto Allegre, Brazil – Buenos Aires, Argentina
Over the past few days we had been trying to arrange the rental of an apartment in BA to stay in. Alain had been doing all of the work which was very generous of him. However for some reason we hadn’t managed to get final confirmation of the place that we had booked before we left. It probably didn’t help that it was Easter weekend.
We caught the flight to Porto Allegre with Aaron, an American guy from the hostel that lives in BA and works with the infamous BA pub crawl organisation. We would be making use of his connection soon enough.
At Porto Allegre Alain and Ryan bought Havaiana socks. Yes, that’s right, socks for flip flops. They looked like pederasts.
We arrived at BA in anticipation of our apartment having magically been confirmed and that there would be someone waiting for us. Unfortunately, there wasn’t, so it was plan B. A hostel.
We went to a place called Pax that Alain and Ryan had stayed at before. It was a bit cramped and smelly but it did for one night. We went out and met up with Justin, an English guy from the hostel and some American people he knew. It was a notable clash of cultures with the Americans artistic and pretentious and the rest of us, well, sports fans. I felt like I should be a translator.
We went out in Palermo to a bar called Sugar which was good fun though I was tired as fuck. We had some fun and then went home.
Saturday 15 May 2010
Surfin’ Safari
Thursday 1 April
Florianopolis
Another day in Florianopolis, another beach. Tan is starting to work well now.
But the interesting part is that we went sandboarding. I’ve never been snowboarding before and although I’ve done surfing once, that was a long time ago. Nevertheless sandboarding isn’t that hard and after a couple of runs on a gentle slope we tried a couple of bigger ones.
Once you had the gist it was easy. But there was a catch. Once you’d completed your run you then had to climb all the way back up the dune. Which given the soft sand, the height you have to climb, and the board that you’re carrying, it can take a long time. The dunes were pretty big. For some reason, they were in the centre of the island. I’m not sure how they actually got there.
The scenery meant there were plenty of good photos to be taken and it was good fun. An additional factor what the wind blowing sand at everything and for some reason it stuck to Ryan’s hair in particular, making it look like he had gone grey.
That evening we went to a hip hop club in Florianopolis town proper. It was full of hot, young girls who weren’t interested. They were also showing the Malaysian Grand Prix practice session as Friday morning in Malaysia was Thursday evening in Brazil. An interesting event of the night was when some random Brazilian guy tried shamelessly hitting on every single girl in the group and generally annoyed everyone in the process. These guys really do have no shame.
In the end it was hot dogs (again) and then home.
Florianopolis
Another day in Florianopolis, another beach. Tan is starting to work well now.
But the interesting part is that we went sandboarding. I’ve never been snowboarding before and although I’ve done surfing once, that was a long time ago. Nevertheless sandboarding isn’t that hard and after a couple of runs on a gentle slope we tried a couple of bigger ones.
Once you had the gist it was easy. But there was a catch. Once you’d completed your run you then had to climb all the way back up the dune. Which given the soft sand, the height you have to climb, and the board that you’re carrying, it can take a long time. The dunes were pretty big. For some reason, they were in the centre of the island. I’m not sure how they actually got there.
The scenery meant there were plenty of good photos to be taken and it was good fun. An additional factor what the wind blowing sand at everything and for some reason it stuck to Ryan’s hair in particular, making it look like he had gone grey.
That evening we went to a hip hop club in Florianopolis town proper. It was full of hot, young girls who weren’t interested. They were also showing the Malaysian Grand Prix practice session as Friday morning in Malaysia was Thursday evening in Brazil. An interesting event of the night was when some random Brazilian guy tried shamelessly hitting on every single girl in the group and generally annoyed everyone in the process. These guys really do have no shame.
In the end it was hot dogs (again) and then home.
All the Boys Think She’s a Spy
Wednesday 31 March
Florianopolis
I lost my sunglasses again. I tried looking for them this morning and I couldn’t find them anywhere. I wrote them off and got on with the day.
We had a day trip to Ilha de Campeche towards the south of the island today. I’m not sure what it was meant to entail but we essentially just hung out on the beach for a while. There was talk of snorkelling and trekking but none of that materialised. It was a nice enough beach to spend time on. There were a lot of coatis about as well, these ones more orangey than the ones in Iguazu.
Back at the hostel that evening I had my first experience of beer pong, an ancient and noble competition steeped in tradition going back literally years. I played a game and although we lost, it wasn’t by much. It was amusing to see that Alain spectacularly failed to convert a single throw.
We headed out to the bar where the band was playing (and I played) before. There was another band tonight and they played a song which from that moment on became the theme song of the trip (along with Revalation-tion, Te amo te amo te amo and Brap-pa-pa-pa-pa Paa-pa Pa-paa-paa-pa-pa) which was the Kim Carnes eighties classic Bette Davis Eyes. We couldn’t get it out of our heads for days.
I started dancing at the front of the stage with a group of random people which was fun until a 50 year old, five foot tall, grossly overweight Brazilian woman started to accost me with her breasts. That scared me a bit. Still, managed to have fun.
When I got back to the hostel I found my sunglasses hiding within some particularly concealing clothes. Good times.
Florianopolis
I lost my sunglasses again. I tried looking for them this morning and I couldn’t find them anywhere. I wrote them off and got on with the day.
We had a day trip to Ilha de Campeche towards the south of the island today. I’m not sure what it was meant to entail but we essentially just hung out on the beach for a while. There was talk of snorkelling and trekking but none of that materialised. It was a nice enough beach to spend time on. There were a lot of coatis about as well, these ones more orangey than the ones in Iguazu.
Back at the hostel that evening I had my first experience of beer pong, an ancient and noble competition steeped in tradition going back literally years. I played a game and although we lost, it wasn’t by much. It was amusing to see that Alain spectacularly failed to convert a single throw.
We headed out to the bar where the band was playing (and I played) before. There was another band tonight and they played a song which from that moment on became the theme song of the trip (along with Revalation-tion, Te amo te amo te amo and Brap-pa-pa-pa-pa Paa-pa Pa-paa-paa-pa-pa) which was the Kim Carnes eighties classic Bette Davis Eyes. We couldn’t get it out of our heads for days.
I started dancing at the front of the stage with a group of random people which was fun until a 50 year old, five foot tall, grossly overweight Brazilian woman started to accost me with her breasts. That scared me a bit. Still, managed to have fun.
When I got back to the hostel I found my sunglasses hiding within some particularly concealing clothes. Good times.
And When the Night Falls
Tuesday 30 March
Florianopolis
We went to the beach again today. It was a bit of a mission as we took a bus to a different beach from yesterday and then decided that we didn’t want to go there – it was packed and full of families. But when we tried to take the bus back they wouldn’t accept the large note we had, the bastards, so we were stranded. Cue a fair stretch of time spent trying to find a taxi shop unsuccessfully, then trying to find a cheap restaurant unsuccessfully, then finally buying a couple of ice creams to get the change we needed to get to Mole.
So we went back to the beach from yesterday and hung out there. We bumped into Kåre (pronounced Corey) a Danish guy we knew from the hostel and hung out with him. He had rented a car so to get back to the hostel we jumped in his car.
In the evening there was a Brazilian dancing thing going on which we went to. Of course the set up is that you dance in a certain way with the local girls and if you do it right, you’re basically set to get laid. Having no formal training in the technique it was hard to pick up. If only I had done a few salsa lessons before I left I’m sure I would have been able to make something of it. I did have a go, but I was so painfully white it was untrue. Of course Alain more or less got the hang of it.
But there really wasn’t much for us there. So after a while we gathered up the survivors, ate hotdogs and left. We got some random guy to drive us back. He was a bit chaotic but interestingly everyone was saying how dangerous his driving was. Well I was in the front seat and maybe I’ve been driving in London for too long or maybe I’ve been to enough foreign countries which chaotic driving but I didn’t see anything I hadn’t seen many times before. Even in Brazil. And it was nothing like the rally driver we had on our last night in Salvador. Or one I would have in Cali.
Back at the hostel it was clear that Alain was significantly more drunk than the rest of us. He was acting like a dick. He only went to bed after I gave him the silent treatment!
Florianopolis
We went to the beach again today. It was a bit of a mission as we took a bus to a different beach from yesterday and then decided that we didn’t want to go there – it was packed and full of families. But when we tried to take the bus back they wouldn’t accept the large note we had, the bastards, so we were stranded. Cue a fair stretch of time spent trying to find a taxi shop unsuccessfully, then trying to find a cheap restaurant unsuccessfully, then finally buying a couple of ice creams to get the change we needed to get to Mole.
So we went back to the beach from yesterday and hung out there. We bumped into Kåre (pronounced Corey) a Danish guy we knew from the hostel and hung out with him. He had rented a car so to get back to the hostel we jumped in his car.
In the evening there was a Brazilian dancing thing going on which we went to. Of course the set up is that you dance in a certain way with the local girls and if you do it right, you’re basically set to get laid. Having no formal training in the technique it was hard to pick up. If only I had done a few salsa lessons before I left I’m sure I would have been able to make something of it. I did have a go, but I was so painfully white it was untrue. Of course Alain more or less got the hang of it.
But there really wasn’t much for us there. So after a while we gathered up the survivors, ate hotdogs and left. We got some random guy to drive us back. He was a bit chaotic but interestingly everyone was saying how dangerous his driving was. Well I was in the front seat and maybe I’ve been driving in London for too long or maybe I’ve been to enough foreign countries which chaotic driving but I didn’t see anything I hadn’t seen many times before. Even in Brazil. And it was nothing like the rally driver we had on our last night in Salvador. Or one I would have in Cali.
Back at the hostel it was clear that Alain was significantly more drunk than the rest of us. He was acting like a dick. He only went to bed after I gave him the silent treatment!
Wednesday 12 May 2010
Walking on the Beaches
Monday 29 March
Florianopolis
We were all a bit wasted from the day before. But the weather became sunny today and so we went down to the beach. We jumped in the waves. We played football. Tiego, a Portuguese guy who was with us, was particularly good. We looked at the girls. And there were a lot of hot girls. There are a lot of hot girls in Brazil, despite the fact that most of them won’t talk to you. And I have to say that to date, writing this 16 days later, this particular beach, Mole beach on Santa Catarina island a.k.a. Florianopolis, has the highest number of hot chicks that I have seen anywhere.
That night we were tired and we didn’t go out, just stayed in the hostel and socialised there.
Florianopolis
We were all a bit wasted from the day before. But the weather became sunny today and so we went down to the beach. We jumped in the waves. We played football. Tiego, a Portuguese guy who was with us, was particularly good. We looked at the girls. And there were a lot of hot girls. There are a lot of hot girls in Brazil, despite the fact that most of them won’t talk to you. And I have to say that to date, writing this 16 days later, this particular beach, Mole beach on Santa Catarina island a.k.a. Florianopolis, has the highest number of hot chicks that I have seen anywhere.
That night we were tired and we didn’t go out, just stayed in the hostel and socialised there.
Performance
Sunday 28 March
Florianopolis
Today we moved out of our hostel to the one that Alain and Ryan were staying at before I arrived, as they thought it was better. I never fully understood why they thought the previous hostel was so bad, it was perfectly adequate. But they had a good time in the other hostel and wanted to return there so I think that was their main motivation.
Needless to say I was hungover most of the day. Also the weather has been full-on cloudy for the last couple of days. Hopefully that will clear up soon. We resolve not to do too much drinking today. After Salvador and the pain we experienced there we know not to go too hard, although that’s exactly what we’ve been doing so far.
We ate at the hostel which had some awesome food. We had a few drinks in the hostel which was quite low key. We went to a bar and there was a band playing covers. I casually let it slip that I would like to get up and play a song. Wheels started turning when the band went for a break one of our group who was a guy from Portugal spoke to the band on my behalf. It turns out it was OK so I went on stage and played.
It was Mr. Jones again. I wasn’t feeling particularly energetic after the previous two nights but I managed to incorporate the low energy into the performance. And then part way through the first verse I heard someone start to play the drums. I turned round and it was one of our group, a big fat guy from Sao Paulo who was towards the end of a big motorcycle trip down to the glaciers of Argentina and back again. And then shortly after him, the harmonica player from the covers band joined in as well. So I had an impromptu full band joining in with me and my song. Good times.
The song went well and I ended with a big “Obrigardo!” before leaving the stage. I was then bathed in a great moment of ego massaging as everyone told me how wonderful I was. A little bit of flirting later and the night ended somewhat incomplete.
Florianopolis
Today we moved out of our hostel to the one that Alain and Ryan were staying at before I arrived, as they thought it was better. I never fully understood why they thought the previous hostel was so bad, it was perfectly adequate. But they had a good time in the other hostel and wanted to return there so I think that was their main motivation.
Needless to say I was hungover most of the day. Also the weather has been full-on cloudy for the last couple of days. Hopefully that will clear up soon. We resolve not to do too much drinking today. After Salvador and the pain we experienced there we know not to go too hard, although that’s exactly what we’ve been doing so far.
We ate at the hostel which had some awesome food. We had a few drinks in the hostel which was quite low key. We went to a bar and there was a band playing covers. I casually let it slip that I would like to get up and play a song. Wheels started turning when the band went for a break one of our group who was a guy from Portugal spoke to the band on my behalf. It turns out it was OK so I went on stage and played.
It was Mr. Jones again. I wasn’t feeling particularly energetic after the previous two nights but I managed to incorporate the low energy into the performance. And then part way through the first verse I heard someone start to play the drums. I turned round and it was one of our group, a big fat guy from Sao Paulo who was towards the end of a big motorcycle trip down to the glaciers of Argentina and back again. And then shortly after him, the harmonica player from the covers band joined in as well. So I had an impromptu full band joining in with me and my song. Good times.
The song went well and I ended with a big “Obrigardo!” before leaving the stage. I was then bathed in a great moment of ego massaging as everyone told me how wonderful I was. A little bit of flirting later and the night ended somewhat incomplete.
I Can’t Remember
Saturday 27 March
Florianopolis
We woke up at the crack of 2 pm. I’ve no idea what we did during the day, I can’t remember. Nothing eventful at any rate. We ate dinner in the hostel and then went back to the same nightclub in the evening for a techno night rather than the hip hop music they had last night.
I don’t really remember much of what happened. It could have something to do with the bottle of vodka that Ryan bought. I remember looking at the photos on my camera with me and lots of people I didn’t recognise, and it looked like I had a good time. I also have a reference in the notes on the day that I wrote nearer the time, that says “Canadian girl” but I can’t remember what that refers to now. Presumably not the same Canadian girl as tomorrow night.
Florianopolis
We woke up at the crack of 2 pm. I’ve no idea what we did during the day, I can’t remember. Nothing eventful at any rate. We ate dinner in the hostel and then went back to the same nightclub in the evening for a techno night rather than the hip hop music they had last night.
I don’t really remember much of what happened. It could have something to do with the bottle of vodka that Ryan bought. I remember looking at the photos on my camera with me and lots of people I didn’t recognise, and it looked like I had a good time. I also have a reference in the notes on the day that I wrote nearer the time, that says “Canadian girl” but I can’t remember what that refers to now. Presumably not the same Canadian girl as tomorrow night.
Monday 3 May 2010
The One Where They're Going to Party
Friday 26 March
São Paulo – Florianopolis
After a good sleep I woke up and had breakfast. I had time to kill so I went to graffiti alley, a road near to the hostel that had lots of graffiti on it. Apparently it is really famous, though I’d never heard of it. I took some photos and a guy tried to speak to me in Portuguese and unfortunately I couldn’t understand him. I thought he was talking about something to do with “raffishe” before I realised that that was the Portuguese pronunciation of “graffiti”.
I headed off to the airport early to avoid the dreaded São Paulo traffic, only to get there within 45 minutes. Either I’m very lucky or the reputation is misplaced. Most likely the former.
I tried to kill some time at the airport by buying some wifi internet time (it’s not free in Brazil) but although I paid for it the login process didn’t work and I was left out of pocket and with nothing to do. However the cashier at the food stall where I bought lunch overpaid me in change so I made the money back.
I went through security and then seconds later realised I didn’t have my sunglasses. Not again ... I clearly remember putting them in the tray for the x-ray so I went back and spoke to the people there. They looked in the machine but they weren’t there. I had a look around and found that they had slipped between the rollers and fallen underneath the exit ramp.
Arriving in Florianopolis I took a taxi to the hostel I had booked and met up with Alain and Ryan. We had a good catch up and we met up with an American girl. We have a meal in the hostel which was nice and filling, though we were amazed at one guy who was eating so much food it was incredible. In the evening we headed out to an R’n’B club and managed to drink a lot of alcohol. We returned to the hostel at around 5.
São Paulo – Florianopolis
After a good sleep I woke up and had breakfast. I had time to kill so I went to graffiti alley, a road near to the hostel that had lots of graffiti on it. Apparently it is really famous, though I’d never heard of it. I took some photos and a guy tried to speak to me in Portuguese and unfortunately I couldn’t understand him. I thought he was talking about something to do with “raffishe” before I realised that that was the Portuguese pronunciation of “graffiti”.
I headed off to the airport early to avoid the dreaded São Paulo traffic, only to get there within 45 minutes. Either I’m very lucky or the reputation is misplaced. Most likely the former.
I tried to kill some time at the airport by buying some wifi internet time (it’s not free in Brazil) but although I paid for it the login process didn’t work and I was left out of pocket and with nothing to do. However the cashier at the food stall where I bought lunch overpaid me in change so I made the money back.
I went through security and then seconds later realised I didn’t have my sunglasses. Not again ... I clearly remember putting them in the tray for the x-ray so I went back and spoke to the people there. They looked in the machine but they weren’t there. I had a look around and found that they had slipped between the rollers and fallen underneath the exit ramp.
Arriving in Florianopolis I took a taxi to the hostel I had booked and met up with Alain and Ryan. We had a good catch up and we met up with an American girl. We have a meal in the hostel which was nice and filling, though we were amazed at one guy who was eating so much food it was incredible. In the evening we headed out to an R’n’B club and managed to drink a lot of alcohol. We returned to the hostel at around 5.
The Moment Has Been Prepared for
Thursday 25 March
Quito – Lima – São Paulo
I wake up at about 5 and take a taxi to the airport. I spend much of the flight asleep, though I do manage to get some nice shots of Quito smeared over the Andes before I pass out. At Lima airport I check my emails on the wifi and find that my relative has finally succumbed to the cancer that they have been fighting for eight years. They must have died at about the time I woke up. It’s terribly sad, mainly because I am here and they are there and I won’t be able to go to the funeral. They have been around all my life and my childhood is filled of memories of going to their house and spending Christmas or Easter with both of our families.
But I knew it was coming and I had kind of already expressed my grief to myself about it and had come to terms with it. I remember someone once saying something about grief which I adapted into my own interpretation. That is, that grief is a celebration. The reason the loss feels so powerful is because when they were there, it meant so much. The grief, the tears, the crying, the sadness is recognition of this fact, and we are blessed to be able to feel these emotions. The memories that we have, the times that they come back into our minds, are visits from the past, and that they live on, through us, both in our thoughts and in our genes. And the wheel of life turns once again.
I slept most of the way to São Paulo, waking up a few times to see the Andes and various dams in Brazil. It seems Brazil has a lot of dams. We arrived and it was raining. I took a taxi to the hostel. It took just over an hour which is a miracle as it usually takes two to three hours apparently. I couldn’t remember what I had booked and it turned out to be a dorm bed though in a nice hostel. It was my first time back in a dorm since Iguazu and I had justified it to myself as only being one night, and as it was Brazil there were cost savings to be made. In fact this dorm bed was twice as expensive as the single room I’d had in Quito.
In the evening I go out for a meal and watch some football match in a bar. It ends 4-2 so it was good fun to watch. After that I think about heading home when suddenly I notice that the first practice session of the Australian Grand Prix is being shown in a bar, so I stay to watch that. Button beats Hamilton and Rosberg beats Schumacher once again. Kubica ends the timesheets on top, which is good for him and Renault, both of whom look like they will be having a quiet season. Also, the McLarens seem to have the edge on the Ferraris.
Quito – Lima – São Paulo
I wake up at about 5 and take a taxi to the airport. I spend much of the flight asleep, though I do manage to get some nice shots of Quito smeared over the Andes before I pass out. At Lima airport I check my emails on the wifi and find that my relative has finally succumbed to the cancer that they have been fighting for eight years. They must have died at about the time I woke up. It’s terribly sad, mainly because I am here and they are there and I won’t be able to go to the funeral. They have been around all my life and my childhood is filled of memories of going to their house and spending Christmas or Easter with both of our families.
But I knew it was coming and I had kind of already expressed my grief to myself about it and had come to terms with it. I remember someone once saying something about grief which I adapted into my own interpretation. That is, that grief is a celebration. The reason the loss feels so powerful is because when they were there, it meant so much. The grief, the tears, the crying, the sadness is recognition of this fact, and we are blessed to be able to feel these emotions. The memories that we have, the times that they come back into our minds, are visits from the past, and that they live on, through us, both in our thoughts and in our genes. And the wheel of life turns once again.
I slept most of the way to São Paulo, waking up a few times to see the Andes and various dams in Brazil. It seems Brazil has a lot of dams. We arrived and it was raining. I took a taxi to the hostel. It took just over an hour which is a miracle as it usually takes two to three hours apparently. I couldn’t remember what I had booked and it turned out to be a dorm bed though in a nice hostel. It was my first time back in a dorm since Iguazu and I had justified it to myself as only being one night, and as it was Brazil there were cost savings to be made. In fact this dorm bed was twice as expensive as the single room I’d had in Quito.
In the evening I go out for a meal and watch some football match in a bar. It ends 4-2 so it was good fun to watch. After that I think about heading home when suddenly I notice that the first practice session of the Australian Grand Prix is being shown in a bar, so I stay to watch that. Button beats Hamilton and Rosberg beats Schumacher once again. Kubica ends the timesheets on top, which is good for him and Renault, both of whom look like they will be having a quiet season. Also, the McLarens seem to have the edge on the Ferraris.
Return to Sender
Wednesday 24 March
Quito
Although I fell asleep at first, later I woke up in the middle of the night and couldn’t get back to sleep again. Instead I entertained myself by looking out the window and watching our progress as we twisted our way up the Andes towards Quito. We were actually ahead of schedule by about two hours and we also went through the centre of town before arriving at the bus station. I could have left the bus there but it was so early there was a risk that the hostel wouldn’t be open, and that I would be left on the side of the road with my bags, in Quito, which wouldn’t be a good idea.
So once at the bus station I took a taxi to the hostel, ate breakfast and relaxed. There’s no sightseeing to do so I just do a bit of admin. I buy some toiletries, which is very exciting. I can get wifi in my room this time, which is also exciting. Compared to the coast it’s much faster. I have a snooze in the afternoon to catch up on my sleep.
In the evening I go out for a meal and then a drink afterwards, but the tiredness and the threat of being mugged lead me to head home early and pack for the next day.
Quito
Although I fell asleep at first, later I woke up in the middle of the night and couldn’t get back to sleep again. Instead I entertained myself by looking out the window and watching our progress as we twisted our way up the Andes towards Quito. We were actually ahead of schedule by about two hours and we also went through the centre of town before arriving at the bus station. I could have left the bus there but it was so early there was a risk that the hostel wouldn’t be open, and that I would be left on the side of the road with my bags, in Quito, which wouldn’t be a good idea.
So once at the bus station I took a taxi to the hostel, ate breakfast and relaxed. There’s no sightseeing to do so I just do a bit of admin. I buy some toiletries, which is very exciting. I can get wifi in my room this time, which is also exciting. Compared to the coast it’s much faster. I have a snooze in the afternoon to catch up on my sleep.
In the evening I go out for a meal and then a drink afterwards, but the tiredness and the threat of being mugged lead me to head home early and pack for the next day.
Leave Them All Behind
Tuesday 23 March
Montañita – Guayaquil (outbound)
Today is the first of a three day trans-continental Pan-American coast-to-coast trip that will end on the Atlantic coast in Florianopolis in Brazil. The first part was to take the bus from Montañita to Guayaquil. This was easier than the previous bus journeys as I was getting off at the last stop, so no need to worry about where I was. I bought a ticket during the day, sorted my affairs and then caught the bus in the afternoon. It was a nice air conditioned bus, which was good.
The bus station at Guayaquil is nice and modern. In fact so is the bus station in Quito, and both are a lot better than Buenos Aires, surprisingly. Arriving at Guayaquil I needed to buy my ticket to Quito. I was given the name of a bus company but they didn’t seem to want to give me a ticket to Quito. Again, Spanish wasn’t helping me. Luckily I had a second company name, and from them I managed to get a ticket.
I had dinner and caught the bus. Unfortunately this one was like the one I went to San Vincente in – a bit low rent. But survivable. I managed to get some sleep. All I had seen of Guayaquil was its airport (on my way to the Galapagos) and bus station. Apparently those are the best bits.
Montañita – Guayaquil (outbound)
Today is the first of a three day trans-continental Pan-American coast-to-coast trip that will end on the Atlantic coast in Florianopolis in Brazil. The first part was to take the bus from Montañita to Guayaquil. This was easier than the previous bus journeys as I was getting off at the last stop, so no need to worry about where I was. I bought a ticket during the day, sorted my affairs and then caught the bus in the afternoon. It was a nice air conditioned bus, which was good.
The bus station at Guayaquil is nice and modern. In fact so is the bus station in Quito, and both are a lot better than Buenos Aires, surprisingly. Arriving at Guayaquil I needed to buy my ticket to Quito. I was given the name of a bus company but they didn’t seem to want to give me a ticket to Quito. Again, Spanish wasn’t helping me. Luckily I had a second company name, and from them I managed to get a ticket.
I had dinner and caught the bus. Unfortunately this one was like the one I went to San Vincente in – a bit low rent. But survivable. I managed to get some sleep. All I had seen of Guayaquil was its airport (on my way to the Galapagos) and bus station. Apparently those are the best bits.
The End of the Road
Monday 22 March
Montañita
So I checked my timetable today which was just as well I after I had worked everything out I realised I had to leave tomorrow. So I did some sunbathing and I had a final meal with the Scots, though I was a little tired. They kindly gave me a book they had finished as I didn’t have one. We exchanged details and said goodbye.
Montañita
So I checked my timetable today which was just as well I after I had worked everything out I realised I had to leave tomorrow. So I did some sunbathing and I had a final meal with the Scots, though I was a little tired. They kindly gave me a book they had finished as I didn’t have one. We exchanged details and said goodbye.
The Hangover
Sunday 21 March
Montañita
Well there was never much that was going to happen today. I slept for most of it. I did go sunbathing. I met up with the Scots for dinner. That was about it.
Montañita
Well there was never much that was going to happen today. I slept for most of it. I did go sunbathing. I met up with the Scots for dinner. That was about it.
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