Las Grutas, Puerto Madryn, and Diving

For about two months, Brennan, Emily and I have been taking SCUBA diving lessons at the YMCA in Buenos Aires to gain our PADI certification as Open Water Divers. It's been a lot of fun. The majority of our lessons have been with Sule, a man of many mysteries, as we have recently discovered. He's a professional musician (his band Presa del Odio supported the Red Hot Chili Peppers, and he has played bass for Charly Garcia), pilot, and hotel owner. Unfortunately he had to remain in Buenos Aires over the weekend because duty called at the hotel. But we organised to head down to Las Grutas, Rio Negro, Patagonia with Adrian, PADI Course Director who had also been teaching us a bit at the YMCA.

The weekend was a long one because of celebrations of 200 years of Argentinean independence on Tuesday the 25th of May, 2010. Monday was also declared a public holiday by presidential decree, so it was the perfect opportunity to get away from the city for four days. We headed down on Friday afternoon at about 3pm, and arrived early on Saturday morning at about 6.30am. Adrian was there to collect us, and we discovered that there were two other first-time divers who had been on the bus with us. He told us that we were going to be diving immediately that morning, which came as a slight shock to us. We didn't expect to be diving so soon. But the weather was good, and forecasts weren't hopeful, so we were taking advantage of the weather while we could.

He dropped us at our weekend apartment, which was a very pleasant one bedroom place with a joint kitchen and lounge room, a big patio, and roof top terrace. Adrian let us know that we could watch the sunrise from the roof with a view of the ocean and that he'd return in about an hour to collect us. We did exactly that, and afterwards had a simple breakfast of media-lunas, bread rolls, jam, dulce de leche, and coffee provided as part of the cost.


Sunrise from the apartment

The dive centre was only a short two minute drive from the apartment and we arrived there at about 8am. The temperature of the water was about 11 degrees centigrade so we started getting changed into our dry suits, and met our instructor extraordinaire for the weekend, Argentinean Martin 'Kiwi' Taylor (like the fruit, due to his very short hair cut), who spoke perfect English thanks to clever parents. He is an extremely experienced diver and runs his own diving school with his partner Ana in Cordoba. I have to recommend him. He was excellent. Find their website here. What i found especially impressive about Kiwi was his willingness to share with us moments when things hadn't gone entirely to plan. He's a humble fellow and insights like those help new divers like us realise that they should never get complacent about the dangers of the sport. I think it's extremely admirable that an instructor of his experience can admit he's made mistakes.


Em gets changed into her dry suit as Adrian provides encouragement


Brennan with his suit on

After Kiwi's briefing we headed down to the beach with the rest of the gear and boarded a motor boat. We were heading to a site known as the plataforma, but the plataforma was being repaired, so we had to enter the water from the boat, and did our first backward roll with gear on.


You know those movies where the motley crew of misfits has to save the world by blowing up some natural phenomenon because the properly trained people aren't available? This photo reminds Em of that. Kiwi on the right. Photo: Ana Zivkovic


All of us on the boat about to dive. I'm having trouble turning my head because of the seal around the neck. Photo: Ana Zivkovic

From the 'plataforma' we did our first three dives at around 5 metres depth. Most of it was just drills so that Kiwi could make sure we'd learnt something in the practical sessions, but we did manage to get a chance to have a little bit of a wander for one of them, following behind Kiwi as he kept an eye on us. That was incredibly awesome, just floating around, flying over rock ledges and looking at fish and other things.

After we surfaced for the third time, we all headed to lunch together. The day had gone incredibly quickly and i was surprised to find that we were already well into the afternoon. Some of us siesta'd when we got back to the apartment, and then we went to dinner at a restaurant called Aladin (Spanish spelling), which served nice seafood and was suitable because, upon our first open water dive you could say that we had just entered 'a whole new world'. But apart from the name and some unusual decor, the restaurant really had nothing to do with Aladdin.

Em and I chatted (or tried to, with no thanks to a very loud guitarist/singer) with Rodrigo (of Argentinean Survivor fame), and his gorgeous wife and little boy Alejandro at dinner. I discovered that Alejandro was playing Super Mario Bros (the original), on a portable something, so i showed him the free life on level one, and how to get to the warp zone in level 1-2. Needless to say, he was impressed. We later learnt that due to the weather, we weren't going to be diving the following morning, so Rodrigo very kindly offered to drive us to Puerto Madryn (some 300kms away) for some wildlife watching in his new car. We exchanged numbers and headed home via the Las Grutas Casino. I didn't play, but Brennan won $250 pesos, and was the talk of the group the rest of the trip.

Rodrigo called the following morning at around 11am and told us to come to his hotel, because he didn't know where we were staying. We left Las Grutas at around 11.15am, and the drive was long. But fast. I think he averaged about 150km/h on the way there. It took us about 2.5hrs to reach Puerto Madryn, including a stop for petrol which Rodrigo insisted on paying for. There was a lot of Spanish spoken in the car, which we appreciated, because it wouldn't have been much fun trying to talk to us.

Puerto Madryn is a very pretty little town on the sea in the province of Chubut. It has a population of about 60,000 and makes its money out of industry and fishing. It also does OK out of tourism. We walked down the beach for a bit, before visiting a tourist office, and buying Rod and his family lunch at a fast food place. Then we headed to Playa El Doradillo which the tourist office had suggested. It's about 10 kms north of the town and it's possible to view whales from the shore, if the season is right.


Looking down the beach at Puerto Madryn

The season was right, and there were about eight mating pairs of Southern Right Whales in the bay. We drove to one section of the beach where there was a pair about 100m from the shore. The sound was incredible when they exhaled. We took a bunch of photos and even saw a penguin paddle past.


A mating pair of Southern Right Whales


A lone penguin paddling past


A whale sticks his/her head out of the sea


Exhale

We then made our way to a little lookout where Lobos Marinos (sea lions) hang out on the cliffs. They were very smelly, and almost as noisy. I actually thought that there were some sheep stuck down there with them because that's exactly what some of them sounded like. It was getting dark by this time, and a little difficult to take photos so we decided to leave after a quick photo of the stunning sunset.


Sea Lions on the cliffs near Puerto Madryn.


Sunset from la Loberia near Puerto Madryn

We headed back to Las Grutas from there in darkness, and at a slower pace. We stopped briefly when Rodrigo asked for something, and i took a photo of the Patagonian landscape. It reminded me a lot of the inland regions of Australia i saw on an excursion for university - huge expansive areas of flat nothing, and incredibly beautiful.


Patagonian nothingness

When we got back that night, Emmo was so tired she decided to skip dinner, while Brennan and I headed to a parilla. There was no one there who spoke English, or at least who were willing to speak it with us. Kiwi and his wife were with Adrian and his girlfriend having a couples dinner somewhere else. And they were pretty much the only English speakers on the trip, so Brennan and I were forced to stumble our way through Spanish conversation. Brennan did a lot better than I, but i think i held my own.

The next morning we had to be at the dive centre by 8am, so we were up early and out the door. We were excited about this day because we had heard we were heading to a shipwreck called the Don Felix which turned out to be the truth. Again, we geared up and got ready, and boarded two smaller zodiac type speed boats. The drivers had a little bit of trouble finding the buoy that marked the wreck, because the tide was coming in, and the buoy was half submerged thanks to the short length of its rope. But we did eventually. For this dive we had to put our gear on in the water, which was a little tricky thanks to a current. But soon it was all good and we were heading under to about 16 metres for two separate dives.


Em and I under the water at the Don Felix shipwreck. Photo: Ana Zivkovic

It's a very strange feeling being that far underwater. You really can't hear anything except yourself breathing and the bubbles rising. Things look different too. Reds and yellows are filtered out by the water, which gives everyone a sickly ghost-like appearance. We followed a rope down from the buoy which i'm glad about because the current was strong and although visibility was OK, it was still hard to see where we were going. I remember seeing the bottom of the ocean coming towards me slowly, and concentrating on my next rope hold, and then turning around to see a huge sunken ship covered in sea life and fish. It was a little bit of a surprise.


A diver at the Don Felix. Photo: Ana Zivkovic


A curious little fish amongst the wreckage of the Don Felix. Photo: Ana Zivkovic


Sea anemones growing on the wreckage of the Don Felix. Photo: Ana Zivkovic

We did some drills down there including navigating using a compass and trying to hover in a dry-suit, which isn't all that easy. If you rise just a little bit too much, the air in the suit expands, increasing your buoyancy and sending you rocketing to the surface. When this happens you have to immediately get yourself upright and tap the valve on your shoulder to release the air and send you back down. It can be a little frustrating, but I guess it's something you get used to with time and the reason the dry-suit has a separate PADI certification.

There were two separate groups that day, and we went in the morning. We managed to see a penguin swimming under the water but the afternoon group was treated to a visit by some sea lions. I was jealous. Marcelo took this incredible video of them:


Lobos Marinos (sea lions) near the Don Felix shipwreck in Las Grutas. Video by Marcelo Valentino

After this dive, we headed back to shore and had a delicious lunch of Locro, which is considered Argentina's national dish, and is often served on, or around May 25 (independence day). We filled out our new dive logs with info from Kiwi's wrist monitor and received a round of applause from the group, along with the ubiquitous diving-fist-bumps we've come to know.

Em and Brennan went back for a sleep, while i headed out to the beach to go for a wander and take some photos of the Las Grutas beach. The sun was close to setting and it was very beautiful. I was lucky to spot some dolphins making their way past, and plenty of the very noisy Burrowing Parrots.


Two young women enjoy a sunset walk along the beach at Las Grutas


Drawing in the sand at Las Grutas.


Dolphins making their way north


Burrowing Parrots in flight

I left the beach just as the sun was going down, and headed up to the street where i took this photo of some boys playing football. I really like it. It's probably my favorite of the trip:



We had dinner at Aladin again that night, but without the noisy singer this time and afterwards we headed to the Casino to lose some money.

In the morning, we went for a quick walk up the beach to 'Las Grutas' which are small caves in the sea wall, and the reason Las Grutas is called Las Grutas. We were followed by three stray dogs the whole way there and back.


One of the stray dogs which followed us on our beach walk.


A view of Las Grutas looking south down the beach.

After the walk we had lunch with everyone again. I learnt some more about what people did, and one the most interesting jobs was that of a legal hacker who is employed by major companies around the world to find holes in their online security. I don't think anyone who came on the trip was lacking money. Others were accountants, lawyers, and university employees. We then went to take a photo of the whole group with a baby whale skeleton that has been set up outdoors. On the way there we walked past the casino and saw the scene below. Argentinean casinos aren't allowed to contain ATMs, so the solution is making the ATM portable and parking it outside the Casino. As one the Argentinean divers said - 'make the law, make the cheat'.


The casino with portable ATM.


Most of the diving group at the whale skeleton

That was pretty much it for the trip. We headed back the apartment, and i passed out until we had to leave for the bus at 6.15pm. Slept all the way back to Buenos Aires. It's the best weekend I've had in Argentina so far.

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Wanna dive? Do it Argentina:
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http://scubaranch.com.ar/
http://www.cotacerobuceo.com.ar/

Diving Trip this Weekend

Em, Brennan and I have been learning to dive. As in Scuba Dive. It's quite a cheap course to do in Argentina; five days of theory and practical for around $120. We had the choice of getting our certification in Argentina, or back in Sydney, but we figured we'd do it here, even though the trip isn't too cheap. We're heading to Las Grutas in Patagonia tomorrow for four days, and hopefully if things go right, we'll at least get to see some whales. There's a possibility we'll dive with them too, but i'm not going to get my hopes up.

So we've learnt how to dive and all that, and use a dry suit so we don't get cold, and give each other regulators, and swap them and all that... but I think probably the most exciting thing about this trip is we're going with a bloke called 'Chopper', who starred on Argentina's version of Survivor, and took 5th place. Unfortunately i can't find any video of him, but this proves it's true.

Now, i don't hide what a ridiculous fan of survivor i am, and there's no shame to be had in admitting it because it is quite easily the best television program ever made in the whole world. They've just finished Season 20 (which was probably the best season yet), and it doesn't look like they're going to stop. That speaks for itself... I mean, the Simpsons has 21 seasons, and they started ten years earlier.

Unfortunately, I'm never going to have an opportunity to be picked for Survivor, because Australia only ever made one series and a celebrity version. I'm not a celebrity, it's unlikely i'll ever become one, and it doesn't look like they're going to make any more anyway, so i'm out of luck there... And you've gotta be American for the American version so i'm out of luck there too, unless i can marry an American... But Em wouldn't be too happy about that... Although, she might be willing to discuss it?.. Then all i've gotta do is get past the selection process... Hmmmm. worth considering... But we'd definitely have to figure out a pre-nup, for when i win...

But anyway, I'm gonna get to talk with someone who experienced it! Probably the next best thing!! Can't wait to ask him about his strategy, where he went wrong, if it was hard living off the land... OAHHHH! I'm SO excited!!!

Ok, of course this is all slightly tongue in cheek. I'm probably going to enjoy diving with whales. But it's still cool to hang out with a SURVIVOR, and i'm sure McHaggis, Claire, Danno and Rulz, will be excited for me (sorry for outing you guys). Another strange connection is that our diving instructor taught the host of the show how to dive also.

Fate?

Em and I saw a dead man in the street today.

Em and I have been taking Spanish classes at the University of Buenos Aires. This is the same University that Che Guevara attended. We've been doing it for about 3 weeks so far, although i missed quite a few of the first lessons due to enrolling late, and entertaining two lovely red-headed visitors from Sydney.

Anyway, we normally catch the Subterraneo to the class, but today for some reason it was closed, so we had to quickly figure out which bus to catch. We got the 106, and arrived about 20 minutes late.

The class went OK, nothing out of the ordinary. We have two teachers, and one is hilarious, while the other seems to be in a bad mood quite a bit. It's not fun when your teacher is in a bad mood. But tonight we had the hilarious one.

But getting back to the point of this story, we decided to get the bus back home again because we weren't sure whether the subte would be open. So we did, but the bus takes a different returning route to the one it takes there, because of one way streets etc.

So we were a little lost, and we didn't know what route the bus was taking, but luckily i have a map on my phone, and i could follow where we were going. So we got to a street closish to our house, but i kinda thought we might get closer so we stayed on the bus to see. We didn't get any closer, and in fact only got further away, so we got off quite a few blocks from my house and walked. My god, this is boring... Ok, i'll get to the point.

So walking down 9 de Julio, we saw some commotion up ahead. Em saw it first, which is surprising because she can't see anything without her glasses. Maybe she was wearing them... probably was. I noticed a man lying in the street and a police man and a group of other people standing over him. Nearby on a park bench was a woman being consoled by another woman, and parked in the road was an ambulance.

We didn't really want to sticky-beak so we walked past quickly, and saw that the man was older, dressed nicely, with gray hair. He was lying on his back, with one hand on his stomach and the other at his hip.

Em asked me, "Is he dead?". I told her i doubted it, and we kept walking. But when we turned back again, they were covering him with a white sheet. So we can be pretty sure that he was dead.

This is probably the fifth dead person I've seen in real life. Strangely, one of the others was also in Argentina, on the way to Calafate, seven years ago. He (or she) was lying on a road in the middle of nowhere, with a broken windshield covering him, and his arm protruding from under it at an unnatural angle. Beside him was an overturned jeep and two men who waved us past.

The other four were my grandfather, in hospital, Emily's grandmother in an open casket at the funeral, and two people who were being cremated in Varanasi, India. I don't know if i can count the human jaw we saw in the gutter in the filthiest city in the world, Agra.

I remember feeling strong emotions for every other body I've seen. Even the ones i didn't know. Watching the cremations in Varanasi was an incredibly moving experience. The body under the windshield shocked me, perhaps partly because of the mystery of who they were, what had happened, and who the men were who were with him. Of course, being with your dead grandfather surrounded by family is an incredibly moving experience. As is experiencing the funeral of your partners grandmother, and witnessing emotions that are rare for a family.

But today, i felt nothing. I don't know why. Perhaps it was because the body lay uncovered. There was no mystery to who he was, just another old man. Or maybe it was because I didn't think he was dead when i passed him, so i didn't have time to register that this was an abnormal situation. Maybe it was because he looked so peaceful. He wasn't in a strange position, hadn't fallen strangely, he looked like he was simply resting. Or maybe I've seen enough dead bodies now not to be shocked.

Tigre

Brennan, Emmo, and I went to Tigre the other weekend (3rd of April). It’s about an hour north of Buenos Aires, and it’s a bunch of islands within a river delta that can only be accessed by boat. Porteños build holiday houses on the islands, right next to the water, and go there for the weekend to fish, sail, row, and jet-ski. Others live there all year round. The water was very high when we were there. It’s a really pretty place.


People enjoying a day kayaking around some of the canals


A fisherman in one of the more natural sections of the delta

We hired a boat for about two hours, and received a fairly intensive Spanish lesson, as the tour was entirely in that language. It wasn’t too cheap though, costing 300 pesos for the two hours. The tour guide was called Fernando and he took us on a tour of some of the smaller canals. We saw floating supermarkets, plenty of nice houses, huge restaurants, a primary school for about 400 children, and lots of kayakers and rowers.


Fernando, our boat driver/tour guide

After, we returned to the town and had a fairly average, but expensive meal somewhere along the water. Then we headed to the ‘fruit market’ which doesn’t actually sell much fruit. Em bought a basket for our dirty washing which is so far doing its job very well.


One of the more eccentric houses.


Casablanca.


Another nice house, set back from the river.


A floating supermarket.


Emily!

We caught ‘el tren de la costa’ (the coastal train) back. It was a little more expensive than the public train we caught to get there, but it arrives at Olivos (just north of BA) pretty quickly. From there we transferred to the main line and headed back to the centre of town. It was a lovely day, and I want to head back to check out the theme park that’s there. It’s got roller coasters, rides, etc. And it’s cheap to enter!


You can see part of the fun park in the background.

My two experiences of being robbed.

It’s been a while since my last entry. Part of the reason for this is because I had quite an unpleasant experience about three weeks ago and I didn’t really want to write about it. I’ve recently had another, so this is going to be a slightly negative entry before I get back to describing the awesomeness of Buenos Aires. Hopefully it’ll help me get some things off my chest and help others to avoid the situations I got myself into.

The first unpleasant experience was after I left a party in San Telmo, and started walking in the wrong direction towards La Boca, alone. The Lonely Planet, and many other people, including taxi drivers advise you to avoid this area at night. It was around two or three in the morning and I had been drinking with the girls and some other friends from my University. We’d met up with random Canadians, Hong Kongeans, Americans, outside of supermarkets and other places and they’d ended up accompanying us to various parties around the city. I’d had a really good night, but it was time to call it quits so I left and started heading home.

I remember walking up a well lit street lined by trees, when I noticed a man dressed as a woman coming towards me. He had big bushy hair and came straight up to me, whispering something in my ear. I basically just said no thanks and kept walking. He followed me for a bit, and as I approached a corner, I noticed another transvestite who was going for the Peruvian ‘chola’ look. Both were ugly as shit. There was absolutely no mistaking them for women.

The chola started whispering things in my ear, and I tried to ignore her too and keep walking. But then they started touching me, putting their arms around me, and ultimately groping my testicles. There was no way they could have thought I was interested, because I was making that clear, so I realized they were probably touching my balls as a distraction to pickpocketing me. So I put my hands in my pockets to cover my phone and my wallet, and to ensure their hands weren’t going in there, but then they’d go straight back to squeezing my nuts which meant I’d have to take my hands out of my pockets and bat theirs away.

Eventually they let up and walked away. So I checked my pockets for the final time and realized my phone was gone. Immediately, I moved quickly towards the bushy haired one, and said to her very nicely in Spanish; ‘Please, I’m Australian. Give me my phone’. She initially ignored it and walked away, but I followed and kept repeating it louder and louder and with more urgency, in part, hoping neighbours would hear.

She started moving away more quickly once my voice became raised, but she was hampered by her high heels, so I didn’t have much trouble keeping up with her. I followed her for about 2 blocks, and we crossed the street multiple times. At one stage, trying to scare me, she picked up an empty beer bottle and smashed it against a gutter holding the neck in her hand. But it wasn’t for very long, and she threw it away and kept moving. I grabbed her arm multiple times and she wrenched away from me.

The chola was following us for this, and I could tell that she, in particular, was incredibly uncomfortable with the situation. I kept trying to grab the one who had my phone, and eventually just started yelling ‘Help me! and ‘Police!’. The Chola said something to the bushy haired one, and she obviously weighed up the pros and cons of the situation and my phone was out of her purse and in my hand. I got out of there in the first taxi I could find, upset and scared, but luckily, not lacking any of my personal items.

The second unpleasant experience happened on Easter Sunday. I had been drinking at an American bar with a friend from uni called Brennan. We´d been having fun, watching baseball and talking to various people from around the world. It was especially fun listening to Brennan convince two other Americans he was Australian, with a pretty average Australian accent.

Again, we left late, probably at about 2am. It was only a seven block walk home, so I decided to do it, again alone. When I was about a block and a half from my home, two homeless guys who were sleeping in an alcove, stopped me and asked me if
I’d buy them a beer. I sat down and talked to them for a while, and I felt like we made friends so took my wallet out and gave them some money. They obviously saw how much more I had in there (which was quite bit because I´d been to the bank earlier in the day). I remained to talk with them for a while (badly), and they suggested we go to a bar near the house. I said no thanks, and then they asked again if I had any more notes.

Like an idiot, I took my wallet out with my right hand to check with my left. The next thing I remember is my left arm being grabbed from behind, while the guy who asked for the money grabbed my right hand and stripped out all the cash, a credit card, my (new, 5 year, $160) drivers licence, and my UTS student card. The guy behind me pushed me in the back of the head and ran off immediately. I lost my balance and fell. The guy who took the cash ran in the opposite direction, towards Avenida Corrientes, a main street, leaving me with an almost empty wallet (he didn’t get four pesos).

I tried to run after the guy with the cash for about 20 metres, but he had too much of a lead so I gave up and all I could think of doing was yelling ‘YOU FUCKING ASSHOLES!’ in English repeatedly. I felt betrayed after being kind to them. I jogged up to Corrientes, and a bunch of people were talking to two policemen. They’d seen the thief running and told the police where he’d gone. I ran up the cops and said I’d been robbed and they told me to get into their car. We drove around a bit, and I was asked what they’d been wearing, but I couldn’t remember and soon realized that the search was going to be fruitless. They dropped me home. The thieves got away with about 800 pesos, or 230 Aussie dollars.

So that’s that. My two robberies. They’ve made me feel embarrassed, naïve, stupid, saddened, and most of all extremely angry about both the experiences in different ways.

Firstly, the transvestites. The end result of this robbery was I got my phone back, so I wasn’t put out financially, or in terms of convenience. It would have been a serious hassle losing my phone and all the numbers it stores. In this way, it wasn’t as bad as losing the money I lost in the second robbery. It’s also kind of funny looking back on it, being robbed by two small ugly men dressed as women. It’s a funny image, me chasing a man in high heels.

But having said that, it is an EXTREMELY unpleasant experience being touched on the genitals by someone you don’t know. It’s something that no one has the right to do, except yourself, your partner, and maybe your doctor, or someone else you give permission to. It’s hard to imagine what it’s like until someone does it to you, but it’s an outrageous way to rob someone and I’m angry that they did it to me.

With the second robbery, I guess it’s partly because they got away with my money, but the anger was incredible. I stewed over it for days, absolutely fuming. But the anger was mixed with sadness. I felt betrayed because I’d been trying to lend a hand, but I also felt stupid. I mean, what a stupid thing to do, stopping to talk to two homeless guys in the middle of the night. It made me look at everyone differently for a few days. Ever since, I haven’t opened my wallet for anyone asking for money.

The second robbery also felt like it was partly my fault. It was late, I was alone, I had been drinking, and I showed my terrible Spanish and my money to two homeless guys. All of these things put a huge target on my back. It was stupid.

But it’s not as much my fault as it is theirs. After all, they were the ones who robbed me. I couldn’t have been robbed without them. I know they’re poor, and it was a lot of money, perhaps too much to resist, or enough to take the risk. But in the end, it was my money, not theirs, and I’d given them what I was willing to give already. They shouldn’t have taken advantage of me.

But they probably didn’t rob me because they wanted to, but because they had to. They probably had other problems such as addiction which prevent them from finding legitimate work. Or once they became homeless, the vicious cycle repeated itself. It’s a lot of money to them, and money I can probably afford to lose. Maybe it’ll help them to get out of their rut.

I thought about all the things they could be doing with my money. Perhaps they’d meet up the next day and buy a nice suit each, and a bunch of roses, and walk around to restaurants selling them at a profit. Or perhaps they could hire a hotel room for a week or two, get clean, buy some nice clothes and look for a job. Maybe they’d go to the casino and put it all on red, twice, and quadruple their money, and next time they see me they’ll give me my money back with a thank you card and a box of chocolates.

I really hope they did something like that with it.

I also hope they each bought a dodgy empanada and had terrible diarrhea for a week, and while lying in a puddle of their own shit with unbearable stomach cramps, another homeless person offered to buy them medicine, and as they looked up at him with thanks in their eyes and hope in their hearts he snatched my money from them and ran away down the street never to be seen again.

I’m not alone in the robbery boat. Yasmin had her phone stolen in a crowed bar, one of the first weeks we were here. The other day, Hilary had someone ride past on a bicycle and try to grab her phone (which he then dropped, and scratched). A girl called Emma from New Zealand had her back snatched, but managed to retrieve it. An English girl from my Spanish class had her bag stolen while sitting outside at a restaurant. On the Subway, Em and I witnessed an Argentinean man nearly have a gold chain yanked from his neck through the window, as the train pulled away. Lander, a Mexican (who has never been robbed in Mexico) forgot his bag in a shop at a mall, and later saw a lady walking around with it, claiming it was hers. He got it back after following her all the way to the train station.

But the one that has upset me most is that an absolutely charming, lovely Norwegian bloke from our Spanish class, Magnus, was beaten up on the weekend, suffered a broken nose and rib and had to spend two days in the hospital. For a little bit of money.

So from now on, here’s what I’m going to do to avoid this awfulness, and I suggest that if you’re in Buenos Aires, you take the same precautions;

• I’m not going to walk anywhere alone at night, especially after midnight, and super-especially when intoxicated. I’ll take a taxi. Before midnight, I’ll take main streets as much as possible.
• I’m not going to stop to talk to anyone, unless I know them.
• I’m not going to give anyone any money, even during the day.
• I’m going to vigilantly watch my possessions, especially in crowded areas.
• I’m not going to carry large amounts of money with me anywhere. Only what I need.
• I’m not going to openly or loudly display the fact I don’t speak Spanish very well – it makes the target on your back that much bigger.

I guess these things seem obvious. Maybe I was becoming a little too comfortable here. But I’ve learned my lessons and hopefully it won’t happen again.

Our trip to Gualeguaychu

I have returned to Buenos Aires, from Gualeguaychu, Entre Rios, and one of the craziest weekends of my life. Fifty something hours of river swimming, carnival watching, fernet drinking, getting lost, getting found, trying to contact people on telephones, telling men I like their arms, and waking up at six in the evening with an unknown rash on my right bicep.

We were supposed to leave Buenos Aires at 7pm on Friday night, but by the time we actually did, it was probably closer to 7.45. The ride to Gualeguaychu is supposed to take three and a half hours, but it took more like four and a half hours, so we arrived late on Friday night, (or maybe it was Saturday morning) and were let into our five bedroom apartments, located about 150 metres from the street party that takes place next to the river during carnaval.

I have to say that I was unimpressed with my bed, a partly broken, fold-out number with a mattress that might has well have been tile flooring (and later in the weekend I didn’t know the difference), and a position that could only be accurately described as ‘in the kitchen, next to the sink and fridge’. Disheartened and wanting some comfort, I immediately sought dinner and a beer. I can’t remember the name of the bar we ate at, but there were about 12 of us, and we ordered one and half too many pizzas.

A few beers later, and with dinner finished, we headed back to our apartments, take-away boxes in hand, through throngs of pizza-hungry, groping, drunken Argentineans dancing in the streets to reggaeton and cumbia supplied by hatchback cars with huge sound systems. So we decided we should return and join in. I stayed for about an hour, and I was probably back at the apartment and supplementing my mattress with sofa cushions by about 3.30am. But I heard that there were others who remained out until about seven.

I woke early the next day from an uncomfortable night’s sleep, and headed downstairs for the free breakfast which consisted of two medialunas (sweet croissant shaped pastries, only smaller) and a cup of coffee. If I’d had the choice of remaining in a comfortable bed, I would’ve. And I think almost everyone else did. I only saw two others taking advantage of the free breakfast. They said they’d gone to a club and gotten home an hour ago.

After breakfast I went for a walk in an effort to rediscover the hotel I had stayed at seven years previously. I walked up the river, and recognized an unusually shaped tourist information hut in the middle of a grass clearing. I also remembered visiting the main plaza in town. But by this stage, the only real thing I’d discovered was the fact that I quite badly needed to take a shit.

Now there aren’t many public toilets in Gualeguaychu, so the way it normally works is to buy something from a café, and use theirs. I found a nice big sunny ice-cream shop, ordered a pepsi, and asked where the toilet was.

“Over there”, replied the waitress, and pointed to filthy hole hidden behind a tiled concrete wall.

I considered withdrawing my order, seeing as she hadn’t yet taken the cap off the Pepsi, but then I reconsidered that withdrawal, knowing that if I did so, she would know that I was simply at the restaurant to do number twos.

So I headed towards the filthy hole in the wall, which turned out to be the entrance to a filthy tunnel. At the end of the filthy tunnel was a filthy cubicle, with a filthy toilet, which was lacking any sort of filthy seat. Or toilet paper.

But by this stage I was committed, and had tissues in my bag, and I thought to myself “I’ve been to India, how bad can this be?”, so I went with it. I lowered my dacks, and then lowered my arse to the bare porcelain, attempting a half-squat, but I over balanced and ended up with my full weight on the toilet. Which then moved. And broke. And sprayed water all over the cubicle. I finished an uncomfortable Pepsi in record time, paid for it, and on my way out, turned to see a cleaning lady entering the bathroom.

Back at the apartment, I did what I needed to and soon after we boarded the bus to head to beach at Balneario Ñandubaysal, on the Uruguay River. On the other side of this river you can see Uruguay. It was a pleasant enough few hours, but it’s got nothing on Australian beaches, apart from beers you could drink on the sand. We mucked around playing piggie-n-the-middle with a soccer ball in the warm water, and headed back at about 6pm.

From there we headed to the Carnaval proper, which is held in the Corsodromo about 2km south of the town’s centre. It’s a 500m long structure, which seating on either side of the display area, which must have been specifically designed for the carnaval. Near the entrance were a bunch of street vendors selling pretty hats and masks to people. We all bought something. I personally bought a blue and yellow glittery top hat for 15 pesos.

By this time we were running late, again, so we rushed thru the gates and were corralled by the tour guides to the display area. But the wrong end. So we had to run about 475m down to the other end to join the rest of the people who had bought wrist bands and the welcome float which was making its way up. Cops tried to stop us, but somehow our tour guides seemed to be able to convince them we weren’t doing anything wrong.

So from there, we danced the 500m to the other end like lunatics. As we progressed, more and more people jumped the fence to join us, making us realise that the wrist bands were totally unnecessary. I took about 500 photos, most of which were of nothing, but there were a few good ones, and ended up at the other end literally soaked in sweat. It was incredibly fun. There are photos of it to the top right. In almost every one, people are grinning like madmen. Really, really fun.

Then we headed round to watch the rest of the parade progress from the side. Our seats were quite good, near the front. The costumes and floats were incredibly impressive and the music was really cool too.

After that we were all packed into a couple of vans (there would have been 20 something in each) and we headed back to the town. From here, things get a little hazy. Most of us headed out to the street party near the apartments, and dance and drank a bit. That kinda continued for a few hours, and then the next major thing I remember is that people started leaving, so I decided to join them, and followed a group of people. I felt a little confused, because after a while of following them I realized that we couldn’t be going back to the apartments simply because we’d been walking too long. So I just assumed we were going to another party somewhere.

But then the road started having fewer buildings lining it and more trees. I don’t know why I didn’t ask someone where we were going, but I didn’t and just kept following. Eventually we were on a dirt road with a paddock on one side and trees on the other, and this dirt road led to a campground. Only then did I accept that I was completely and utterly lost.

I asked someone where we were, and he told me, but it meant nothing to me, so I told him I wanted to go back to the centre of town, and he very kindly walked me about 600m to the road I needed to take. By now the sun was coming up so it was a little easier to recognize where I was, and I eventually did, and headed back to the street party to see if I could find anyone from Uni.

But I didn’t. I ended up talking with a group of Argentinean blokes who were incredibly drunk. One of them spoke OK English. Another one was this kind of body-building muscle-man type. I think he was a rock climber. Trying to make conversation, I told him that I liked his arms, which caused considerable amusement to the rest of the group. They walked with me to another plaza (I think) where there was more partying going on. I have an extremely vague memory of people climbing street lamps, dancing on top of hatchback cars, and drinking Fernet with coke (it’s horrible at first, but you get used to it).

Eventually I told them I needed to go home, but couldn’t remember where it was, so they walked me there, and lent me their phone to call Yasmin to let me into the house. Nice guys. I got into the house at around 11am, looked at my bed, and decided to sleep on the tiles. I slept until about 6, and when i woke up i had an enormous, itchy, red rash on my right bicep. I had no idea what it could be but i was slightly worried as there's the possibility of dengue fever in the area, and one of the symptoms is a rash, and sore muscles (and my calves were hurting, but probably just from all the lost walking). Anyway, i thought i'd just deal with it in the morning. We went out for dinner later, and caught the bus back at about 11pm. Crazy weekend.

I went to the University doctor (who spoke no English) a couple of days later, and the rash turned out to be an allergic reaction to some sort of insect bite. She gave me some pills, without asking anything about me except my age, and told me to come back the next day. Either my immune system or the pills did their work, because things were looking much better in the morning, and it was feeling less itchy. She gave me some more pills when i returned and a couple of days later it was gone.

In other news, I started classes this week. Level 2 spanish is challenging to say the least. It’s also somewhat interesting ‘doing’ subjects in Spanish, seeing as I don’t actually ‘speak’ it.

Well that’s not entirely true. I think I had my first real conversation last night with a couple of locals. Brennan and I talked with them about the differences between Argentina and Australia and the United States, homeless people, music, and some other things. With no real fluency, but I’ll still call it a milestone.

OK, this has gone on long enough…

Carnaval

In five hours or so, I’ll be heading to Gualeguaychu, three and a half hours and 220km north of Buenos Aires, close to Argentina’s border with Uruguay. It has a population of 75,000 people, so it should be a nice change from Buenos Aires. It’s CARNAVAL time. Gualeguaychu holds the country’s largest and longest carnival celebrations, and the biggest party is reserved for the last week. This week. The week we’re going.

I stumbled across this celebration last time I was in Argentina, about 7 years ago. But I was alone, and feeling stupid, leaving my friends for Brazil, due to a visa which I failed to utilize within the allotted time. I was two days out… But even though I was alone, the show was awesome, and the beers were BIG.

This time, I’ll be going with about fifty people going from my university in an organized tour so it should be quite a different experience. They don’t muck around with the costumes as you can see from this video. Be sure to watch the security guard/cop...