I am writing to you; alone. Since Steve and Nadia have left me, I have been wallowing in self-pity, unable to feel the same exuberance I used to. For the 8 hours that you have been away (of which 7 I have been asleep), I have longed for the good old days when we used to eat empanadas and drink fernet together while we discussed Caipivara hunting techniques and laughed at proud Canadians, overzealous old people and overzealous proud people. I miss you guys.
Moving on. I am here in Cordoba and I have decided to break the strike and hit you guys with the first mini-blog so as to hopefully coincide with a Buenos Aires posting, and bring you the phenomenon of simultaneous blogging. Tonight I am headed to a wedding, which is supposedly going to be a traditional ´Arabe´ event. This is the word for Lebanese over here. It should be great, however owing to the ridiculous time schedules of Argentians, the groom will probably only be getting his peck at midnight (I hope he can hold out the whole night for the naughty hour). Then tomorrow I am heading back to the Campo, to hillbilly-things-up with the Gustavos in the countryside. Hopefully I will make contact with my other compadres on Tuesday morning, where we can reunite, although Steve isn´t answering my phone calls so I am thinking that they are probably making the best of their time without me.
I look forward to what Steve has to say about my team, because without doubt he will find a way to work it in. At this juncture I would like to express how great a team Arsenal is. They are really, really cool, and great, wow. Hey. Wow. Great. (Arsenal 74 points, Man U 81).
Anyways, I hope this inspires you people to make comments, because we like them. That is infact the reason for this blogpost, to beg for your comments. No matter how simple they may be. I want to send a shoutout to that Damn Cat, who has officially begun his own blog within our comments page. Nice. Setting the example.
Ciao
El Fausto
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Friday, April 25, 2008
A message from some slightly bitter Gringos
We hereby resolve to commence a BlogStrike with immediate effect, until further notice. This bold resolution was necessitated by a sharp drop off in comments recently. Los Gringos do, however, wish to make it clear that they appreciate all those who do post comments - we only wish there were more just like you. Sniff sniff.
Anyway, a quick update...
Due to all the smoke in BA, we´re still in Cordoba, but hopefully Esteban (who is now known as E´Steep) and Nadia, will be on an early bus tomorrow morning on the way to the city of Evita and Tango. Fausto will remain in Cordoba before he -takes the easy route and - flies to Buenos Aires on tuesday. Thus, if you blogreaders up the comments enough to make us change our minds, you could be in for two seperate blog entries, at once. That´s simultaneous blogging. Oh yes.
Shite, that qualifies as a blog doesn´t it? Well, the BlogStrike shall begin... now!
We´re off to a discopartyparty.
Yours slightly angrily,
Los Gringos
Anyway, a quick update...
Due to all the smoke in BA, we´re still in Cordoba, but hopefully Esteban (who is now known as E´Steep) and Nadia, will be on an early bus tomorrow morning on the way to the city of Evita and Tango. Fausto will remain in Cordoba before he -takes the easy route and - flies to Buenos Aires on tuesday. Thus, if you blogreaders up the comments enough to make us change our minds, you could be in for two seperate blog entries, at once. That´s simultaneous blogging. Oh yes.
Shite, that qualifies as a blog doesn´t it? Well, the BlogStrike shall begin... now!
We´re off to a discopartyparty.
Yours slightly angrily,
Los Gringos
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Cordoba
Buenos Dias from Cordoba, the city of Che Guevara and Nalbandian. The Gringos have made it past the milestone of one month. Great Success!
Emilce dropped us back in town, near our local supermarket where we purchased some pasta, chorizo and wine. In theory our dinner was to be fantastically delicious, but the "fresh" pasta we bought went rather sticky and our dinner fell woefully short of the mark. The wine was great. We chilled out in our dorm room and got to know Gordon a bit better, before getting an early night.
Thursday
We are all in pretty good health, our spirits are high, and we are all getting along (apart from this morning when Steve decided not to have his morning coffee and cigarette and was very grumpy). The Gringos are beginning to speak some good Spanish, except for the occaisional misunderstanding which can lead to some funny situations (like Fausto trying to tell Flor he wanted to lie down, but actually telling her he wanted to sleep with her; or Steve misunderstanding a conversation and informing everyone that the third biggest tribe of the South American natives was in fact The Beegees). We've got an eventful week planned, and with Fonz's dad coming to visit Cordoba on wednesday, and two of the gringos moving onto Buenos Aires on thursday night, it promises to be a good one.
Monday
After the longest busride we've endured so far (admittedly it was only a 14-hour one), we arrived in a very chilly and wintery Cordoba (check the map to see where it is). We took a taxi to the center of town and found the hostel where we had a reservation - Baluch Hostel, founded by some Israeli travellers who never went home. The hostel was on perhaps the busiest street in Cordoba and it was bustling with young travellers. Our room was not ready yet so we took the tour of the hostel and then sat on the rooftop terrace with a cup of coffee to try and defrost (it was honestly about 5 degrees in the sun).
After getting settled in our room we decided to go explore the town and get orientated. We all immediately loved the city because of its vibrant atmosphere, friendly people and charming streets and buildings. We then decided to go find something really ethnic and local to eat and Fausto, having been to Cordoba before, told us he knew just the place. After finishing our BigMacs and dealing with the McStomachAche set in and so we decided to go back to the hostel to partake in the everyday tradition of the Siesta. We were in a 4-bed dorm but as of yet no one else had checked in. All that changed when young Gordon, a flamboyant Canadian from Calgary who was very proud to be Canadian. Despite all this, we ended up quite liking our roommate. We then ordered empanadas and ate them. An Empanada bears a slight resemblance to a smallish pie/samoosa but it is neither of these things. They are usually half-moon shaped and filled with all kinds of magical ingredients. They are also only 2 pesos. We really like Empanadas. We chilled (freezed) out on the roof terrace with the other inhabitants of the hostel and got to know the Israelies I mean other diverse travellers around. So far we have encountered far more Israelies than all other nationalities combined (Aussies, Brits, Canadians, Yanks, Dutchmen (the real Dutchmen), Swedes, Fins, Poles, Poledancers, a surprising amount of Irishmen, and a Kiwi. Everyone was having a good time until Liam, the 'other' Canadian in the hostel had too much Fernet and began insulting everyone's mothers, speaking far too loudly, explaining for 2 hours the intracacies of the phrase 'fuckin A', enlightening everyone with his so called literary knowledge, teasing a Pole, and generally just being a tosser. Liam did not make a good first impression, and Gordon, slightly embarrased, was quick to explain that they were from different parts of Canada.
Tuesday
Today we wandered around the city again and saw some of its cathedrals, museums, galleries, and streets bustling with many not-too-bad-looking people. We have discovered that Fausto's name is far less exotic in Argentina than it is in South Africa. After looking at the Hotel Faustino, and eating more empanadas from Don Fausto's Empanadas, we toured Nueva Cordoba, the university district (there are 7 here), and slowly made our way to the main Plaza, where we were fetched by Emilse and Gustavo. Gustavo is an old friend of Aurelio (emodad/PapaFonz) and Emilse is his "marrida" (Steve's bad Spanish grammar). They took us back to their house in the suburbs and we were immediatly overwhelmed by their hospitality and friendliness. We had a tea of crossiants and the ubiquitous criollo, with dulce de leche (delicious caramelish spread which Steve eats too much of). We then met the whole family - the beautiful daughters Azusena and Florencia, Juan Cruz the eldest of the bunch, and Gustavito son of Gustavo, Flavia Juan Cruz's girlfriend, and the insanely cute Juanito Ignacio, their son. They all did some serious welcoming. 
Emilce dropped us back in town, near our local supermarket where we purchased some pasta, chorizo and wine. In theory our dinner was to be fantastically delicious, but the "fresh" pasta we bought went rather sticky and our dinner fell woefully short of the mark. The wine was great. We chilled out in our dorm room and got to know Gordon a bit better, before getting an early night.
Wednesday
Woke up earlyish and took a bus to the nearby lakeside town of Villa Carlos Paz. We arrived and, like real locals, headed straight for the tourism office. The guy behind the desk had clearly dreamed of being a tourism officer his whole life and he explained everything we needed to see in the town, in Spanish, in under a minute. It was inspiring. We walked around alongside the lake for far too long (we discovered that lakes get a bit old quite quickly), got slightly angry with each other because we were hungry, so we found a place to have our first Milanesa (Argentina's answer to the WienerSchnitzel mit Pomme Fritte unt Salat). Carlos Paz is famous for its giant 2-story Cuckoo clock, and so we made our way across the river to see just how interesting a big clock could be. It was no more interesting than a small clock. Far more interesting was a guy dragging his ass across the street. However, we noticed that the hour of 3pm was approaching and realised this meant only one thing - the Cuckoo would emerge not once, but 3 times. As 3 O'Clock approached, we sat in anticipation, eagerly awaiting the arrivial of the cuckoo. 3 o'clock came and went, sans Cuckoo. The bastard was asleep - as it turns out, everyone, including the clocks, partake in the custom of siesta. While many tourists were staring at the giant 2 story clock with their cameras out ready for a cuckoo who was not coming out, Steve asked a man for the time (a man who was staring at a giant clock) and he put his camera down so that he could look at his watch. Classic. We soon realised that Cuckoo was dead, and so was the town, so we became despondent and hastliy left the town. 
That evening we decided we really wanted some local cuisine, so we found a Chinese takeaway, China Wok, on the map and, after being offered the delivery service, we decided to walk (wok) 15 blocks so that we could enjoy our food in a nice chinese restaurant. As it turned out, ChinaWok is a delivery-only restaurant run out of one tiny room, so after telling the guy (to his face, not over the phone) to deliver the food to our hands, we chilled in the local park and ate our delicious local chinese cuisine. We had planned to go out for real that night, and since it was only 10pm, we had lots of time to kill before the bars and clubs would open (at 3am). We took a slow walk back to the hostel where we sat and actively passed the time while Gordon gave us a lesson on Canada and its musical greatness (Celine Dion, Brian Adams, Alanis, Nelly Furtado, Sum41, Avril Lavigne... all from Canada! Wow!) We were determined not too repeat our past mistakes and go out too early. We went out too early. However, we did not give up this time, and at about 2pm we found a very informative and up-to-the-minute club called CNN Disco, which sported a completely original logo. We sampled some Argentinian drinks, most notably Green Fernet (mint-infused fernet with Sprite, which, by the way, is freakin delicious), and Gancia (also naat bad). We got an early night and got home at 5am, leaving a packed club full of bemused locals who wondered why we were leaving halfway through the night.
Thursday
After our big night, we needed some hangover food, so we bought a Lomito from the corner shop. Little did we know we had just bought the Worst Lomito in Argentina. These awful snacks ruined our day and so we sat around doing nothing, lamenting our misspent morning and plotting the murder of the man who made those lomitos. That evening Gustavito, Flor and Azu fetched us and took us shopping before going to eat pizza. We have discovered that, despite the Italian influence, Pizza in Argentina consists of bread and lots of cheese, and not much else. It sucks. We are still having trouble adapting to dinnertime here, which is usually at 10:30pm. We got dropped back at the hostel and chilled out.
Friday
Early in the morning (10am) we were woken by what sounded like the girl who worked at the reception desk at the hostel. It was the girl who works at the reception desk at the hostel, and she was informing us that we had only booked places in the dorm until friday and that we had to check out today, at 10:30am. What a lus. Since there was no more room at the inn, Gustavo and family kindly agreed to put us up for the weekend, but said they would only pick us up later that evening. We packed up our stuff, left our bags in the hostel and walked around the busy downtown streets just outside the hostel. It was in one of the shops on this street that Nadia finally, after a month-long search, found shoes suitable for both the mean streets of the various cities we see and for the strenuous Machu Pichu climb in July. She had packed one pair of flipflops, which she replaced in Brazil, and one pair of not-very-good shoes, which Steve had approved of but which were pretty kak. Anyway her new shoes are far better. I'm not sure if you guys care much about the shoes we are wearing, but we thought we'd ramble on about it a bit. Hmmm... Next we had lunch at Johnny B Good, a local chain of steakhouses/bars where they offer "Good Times and Funny Meals". Cane, an aussie we met whom we liked very much, decided to join us for lunch. Cane does a very good Kiwi accent and also bears an uncanny resemblance to Nicholas Haagensen. In fact, we think it may have just been Nick putting on an aussie accent.
We then went back to the hostel and met some more Israelis. One of them informed us that there are 20 000 Israeli travellers in South America (wow!); Israel must be pretty empty right now. Apparently everyone travels in South America after the army service and to Asia after University, and there are even special Israeli hostels around (who would want to go travelling to only meet Israelis? 20 000 Israelis, thats who). Emilce and Flor then picked us up and took us back to their place, where we moved in and began to pass the time by eatng empanadas because planned to once again attempt a night out. At about 2pm we left the house and went to a bar called Contender, a cool vibey place where we drank Fernet and played pool till the wee hours. Finally a successful night! (Although to be fair we did not have the huevos to go clubbing).
Saturday
Woke up early today to try and watch the Arsenal game, but for some reason the tv people had chosen not to show the greatest team in the world, so we went back to sleep, only to rise late and eat more crossaints with dulce de leche (this is the standard breakfast here). We hung around and did some admin on the internet before watching a feeble Man United dribble out a draw against a brave and spirited blackburn side (who deserved to beat those seal clubbing Mancs - Fausto is busy on his phone right now so steve is taking the opportunity to slate Man U...) Emilce then made us her famous Milanesa's and Fausto made his not so famous or exotic but equally delicious mashed potato. We had a huuuge siesta until 8pm, did some laundry, chilled with the family and friends outside. Steve and Fonz put on some hats and soon everyone was wearing hats and being rather silly. Fausto then tried his hand at going to a club but returned at 4am without success. Nevertheless he had a good night at Johnny B Good (despite the funny meals), although he claims he had The Worst Mojito in the World.
Sunday
Early awakening because the Gustavo Clan planned to take us on a Brokeback Mountain Gaucho adventure to their place in the countryside. Steve was naaat feeling so good, but after being called a 'Wet Chicken' ('Chicken Wet') repeatedly and given some local remedy, he bucked up and was alright. After a 2 hour drive to the beautiful countryside (it combines free-state grassland with drakensburg hills and large lakes - not bad eh?), we arrived at the 'Campo', their stone country cottage where we had a large assado (braai). On the menu were such delicious treats as Morcilla (blood sausage) and Chinchulin (cow's intestines), but also some tasty ribs and steak. The Great Plains look of the countryside, combined with the large amounts of meat, was getting us into Gaucho mode and soon we were full on brokebackmountaining it (minus the homosexuality). The place was one of the most beautiful places you could imagine, with crystal clear icy rivers (which Fonz and Steve heroically swam in while battling thousands of hungry leeches) and isolated areas of riverbeachsand where we passed the afternoon in the sun with Azu and Flor. On the way home, Steve wouldnt let go of the cowboy image and so sat in the back of the bakkie (Gustavo has a lank kief bakkie) we stopped in Villa Belgrano, a town full of Germans (probably ex-nazis who fled to Argentina to escape the warcrimes court, but we wont hold that against them because they made us some nice coffee). After a most-awesome day in the country, and a kareoke car ride home, we eventually arrived back in Cordoba, rather exhausted but satisfied. 
We are all in pretty good health, our spirits are high, and we are all getting along (apart from this morning when Steve decided not to have his morning coffee and cigarette and was very grumpy). The Gringos are beginning to speak some good Spanish, except for the occaisional misunderstanding which can lead to some funny situations (like Fausto trying to tell Flor he wanted to lie down, but actually telling her he wanted to sleep with her; or Steve misunderstanding a conversation and informing everyone that the third biggest tribe of the South American natives was in fact The Beegees). We've got an eventful week planned, and with Fonz's dad coming to visit Cordoba on wednesday, and two of the gringos moving onto Buenos Aires on thursday night, it promises to be a good one.
We'll keep you posted.
Lots of love and besos,
The Gringos
PS: Photos are up on picasa here http://picasaweb.google.com/steveo.zogg/CordobaPart1
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Resistencia, Argentina
Writing to you from Resistencia, a small town we decided to stop over at en route to Cordoba (where we are going tonight). In an internet cafe and we´ve got a bit of time before we need to be at the station so we thought we´d fill you in on what we´ve been up to. A quick update on the fake watch progess - Nadia´s fake Puma (Puba) purchased on the mean streets of Paraguy didnt even last a day. Steve`s Bolex is still going strong, and the locals in this town now refer to him as Él Senor con Huevos (Man who Owns Nice Watch and has Biggest Biceps).
We arrived here after (yet another) overnight bus on Friday morning and were seriously tired. Our heavy backpacks weren´t helping and our moods were dropping rapidly as we wandered aimlessly around the town trying to find a place to stay and discovering that everywhere was full (who would have thought?). By 10am the heat was pushing up to the high thirties (hotter than hotazhell) but luckily (or maybe not so luckily) we found a place to stay. We soon discovered why this place was not full. But for the tv and the bathroom, it was pretty much a solatary confinement cell. But the Sandton Gringos made themselves at home and made the most of the place by turning the fan to superhigh and the tv to superloud. By that time, due to our rough morning and the delibilating heat, we decided that a siesta was the best option. After a nap, we headed out to explore the town and discovered that it was not quite as bad without heavy packs. We found a restaurant and ate lomitos (a steak roll with everything on it - ham, cheese, egg, lettuce, tomato... steak, roll). We went past an Icecream shop (the Argentinians are Italians in disguise, so there are many Gelaterias) and payed R10 for an enourmous amount of very good ice cream. & Looking around at the people, we realised that there were some unique aspects to this town. Firstly, there are no robots or stop streets at intersections here, the town planners clearly decided at the time that ´them new-fangeled things called traffic lights were a silly invention and people would have the sense to sort their road affairs out without intervention. This did not really work. Thus to navigate your way through an intersection you must drive your car forcefully into the stream of oncoming traffic and shout obscenities in Spanish and if you´ve been to church enough you´ll probably be ok. Secondly, the 2cc Moped is the preferred family vehicle here. The people clearly saw the Volvo SUVs and the BMW X5s and thought that it would be much safer to pile the whole family on the back, front and sides of a piece of equipment smaller than a child´s bicycle. It is fantastic. We even saw a guy and his dog (both had helmets) riding around town, the dog´s paws on his owners shoulders, the wind blowing through his hair, all the girl dogs swooning as he flew past in a whoosh of canine rebellion. We would show you pics but the buggers go by so quickly its not possible to take a photo.
That night we decided to have a big one, and we`d heard that Argentinians only go out really late. With this in mind, we purchased some Fernet and Coke (the local drink) and a really awful bottle of white wine, and chilled out in our prisoncell I mean hotel room waiting for the hours to tick by until it was late enough to go out. At about midnight, we hit the town and took a taxi to the other end of town where we saw a few clubs. After getting ripped off by a Taxi driver who nearly killed a dog, we walked towards the door of our first Argentine club. The bouncers laughed at us and told us that only crazy people go out before 3:30am. One of the clubs we tried told us they would only open at 3. After cursing this way of life and walking around trying to find likeminded people who partied at a reasonable hour, and sobering up in the process, we settled on a bar where people meet to have some drinks before they go out (at 2:30am!!!). We could not last much longer and so we soon returned home, beaten gringos. We vowed to return triumphant the next night.
Saturday:
That morning Fausto got back in touch with his innerchild by watching Hook on TV. It was sad, but touching. After emerging from the Roomofdeathandsweatiness, we stepped out into a ghost town. What had been, just the night before, a bustling place, was now a deserted town with only a tumbleweed rolling down the main drag (ok there was no tumbleweed, but had there been it would have been perfect). We went to a bar called Fenix and had some lunch (another Lomito). We realised we´d got the lifestyle schedule all wrong so we went to have a siesta in the hopes that that night we could keep up with the locals. This did not work. After sharing a bottle of rather nice wine in the park, we went to Zingara, a little cocktail place. As it got closer to 1am, it began to fill up and the Dj spun pop from the 80s and 90s (but only played 30seconds of song). We realised we had made an improvement on the night before. However, we did not manage to stay awake long enough to make it to the magical time of 3am, and so did not go out, so we went home, despondent and defeated yet again by the Argentine way of life. If the Falkland war had been decided on staying up really late, the Poms wouldnt have had a chance.
Today we watched Man U (very narrowly and quite obviously with less class) beating the mighty and stupendously genius Arsenal. Fausto is getting very upset that it is Steve at the helms of these keys, since he´s a manc. The Gringos were slightly hated by the locals, since we stopped an entire restaurant from watching Nalbandian (an Argentine) win a semifinal of the Davis Cup, so that the three foreigners could watch some English footie...classic. We ate pretty bad pasta and when we got the bill we saw that we had been charged for the use of their cutlery. Had we known, we would have brought our own. Baaastards. After the tennis incident, the townsfolk began to chase us down the main drag with torches and pitchforks, so we found refuge in this UN Internet Cafe. They are trying to knock down the door to get at us. Ok thats really not true, they were quite nice about the whole thing, and only pitchforked us once.
Alrighty, we gotta go catch our bus to Cordoba.
Hasta Luego.
Los Gringitos
To see pics from Resistencia, go to http://picasaweb.google.es/steveo.zogg/Resistencia - sorry we couldnt put em in the blog cause the internet wouldnt let us. Blasted Internet. We will try put em in soon.
Next stop Cordoba
We arrived here after (yet another) overnight bus on Friday morning and were seriously tired. Our heavy backpacks weren´t helping and our moods were dropping rapidly as we wandered aimlessly around the town trying to find a place to stay and discovering that everywhere was full (who would have thought?). By 10am the heat was pushing up to the high thirties (hotter than hotazhell) but luckily (or maybe not so luckily) we found a place to stay. We soon discovered why this place was not full. But for the tv and the bathroom, it was pretty much a solatary confinement cell. But the Sandton Gringos made themselves at home and made the most of the place by turning the fan to superhigh and the tv to superloud. By that time, due to our rough morning and the delibilating heat, we decided that a siesta was the best option. After a nap, we headed out to explore the town and discovered that it was not quite as bad without heavy packs. We found a restaurant and ate lomitos (a steak roll with everything on it - ham, cheese, egg, lettuce, tomato... steak, roll). We went past an Icecream shop (the Argentinians are Italians in disguise, so there are many Gelaterias) and payed R10 for an enourmous amount of very good ice cream. & Looking around at the people, we realised that there were some unique aspects to this town. Firstly, there are no robots or stop streets at intersections here, the town planners clearly decided at the time that ´them new-fangeled things called traffic lights were a silly invention and people would have the sense to sort their road affairs out without intervention. This did not really work. Thus to navigate your way through an intersection you must drive your car forcefully into the stream of oncoming traffic and shout obscenities in Spanish and if you´ve been to church enough you´ll probably be ok. Secondly, the 2cc Moped is the preferred family vehicle here. The people clearly saw the Volvo SUVs and the BMW X5s and thought that it would be much safer to pile the whole family on the back, front and sides of a piece of equipment smaller than a child´s bicycle. It is fantastic. We even saw a guy and his dog (both had helmets) riding around town, the dog´s paws on his owners shoulders, the wind blowing through his hair, all the girl dogs swooning as he flew past in a whoosh of canine rebellion. We would show you pics but the buggers go by so quickly its not possible to take a photo.
That night we decided to have a big one, and we`d heard that Argentinians only go out really late. With this in mind, we purchased some Fernet and Coke (the local drink) and a really awful bottle of white wine, and chilled out in our prisoncell I mean hotel room waiting for the hours to tick by until it was late enough to go out. At about midnight, we hit the town and took a taxi to the other end of town where we saw a few clubs. After getting ripped off by a Taxi driver who nearly killed a dog, we walked towards the door of our first Argentine club. The bouncers laughed at us and told us that only crazy people go out before 3:30am. One of the clubs we tried told us they would only open at 3. After cursing this way of life and walking around trying to find likeminded people who partied at a reasonable hour, and sobering up in the process, we settled on a bar where people meet to have some drinks before they go out (at 2:30am!!!). We could not last much longer and so we soon returned home, beaten gringos. We vowed to return triumphant the next night.
Saturday:
That morning Fausto got back in touch with his innerchild by watching Hook on TV. It was sad, but touching. After emerging from the Roomofdeathandsweatiness, we stepped out into a ghost town. What had been, just the night before, a bustling place, was now a deserted town with only a tumbleweed rolling down the main drag (ok there was no tumbleweed, but had there been it would have been perfect). We went to a bar called Fenix and had some lunch (another Lomito). We realised we´d got the lifestyle schedule all wrong so we went to have a siesta in the hopes that that night we could keep up with the locals. This did not work. After sharing a bottle of rather nice wine in the park, we went to Zingara, a little cocktail place. As it got closer to 1am, it began to fill up and the Dj spun pop from the 80s and 90s (but only played 30seconds of song). We realised we had made an improvement on the night before. However, we did not manage to stay awake long enough to make it to the magical time of 3am, and so did not go out, so we went home, despondent and defeated yet again by the Argentine way of life. If the Falkland war had been decided on staying up really late, the Poms wouldnt have had a chance.
Today we watched Man U (very narrowly and quite obviously with less class) beating the mighty and stupendously genius Arsenal. Fausto is getting very upset that it is Steve at the helms of these keys, since he´s a manc. The Gringos were slightly hated by the locals, since we stopped an entire restaurant from watching Nalbandian (an Argentine) win a semifinal of the Davis Cup, so that the three foreigners could watch some English footie...classic. We ate pretty bad pasta and when we got the bill we saw that we had been charged for the use of their cutlery. Had we known, we would have brought our own. Baaastards. After the tennis incident, the townsfolk began to chase us down the main drag with torches and pitchforks, so we found refuge in this UN Internet Cafe. They are trying to knock down the door to get at us. Ok thats really not true, they were quite nice about the whole thing, and only pitchforked us once.
Alrighty, we gotta go catch our bus to Cordoba.
Hasta Luego.
Los Gringitos
To see pics from Resistencia, go to http://picasaweb.google.es/steveo.zogg/Resistencia - sorry we couldnt put em in the blog cause the internet wouldnt let us. Blasted Internet. We will try put em in soon.
Next stop Cordoba
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Iguazu Falls
Hi guys,
Writing to you from Puerto Iguazu, Argentina, where we`ve been hanging out for the past three days. Its a chilled out little town very close to the massive Iguazu falls. But besides the falls, the town itself is really nice, just laid back although its filled with Americans going back and forth from the falls, and who are very angry at Bush because they cant get into Brazil to see the falls from the Brazillian side. Apparently America recently said that Brazillians had to pay 130USD to visit the US, so, maturely, Brazil responded by doing exactly the same. Its pissing them off so much its hilarious. To give you an idea of where we are (get your map out at this point), the Iguazu falls come from the Rio Iguazu, which seperates Brazil and Argentina, and thus you can see the falls from Brazil and Argentina, although Argentina allows a much closer look. Paraguy is also just around the corner from here.
Right.
Tuesday
We set off from our `Hostel Sweet Hostel` in the morning heading for the Parque Nacional Iguazu, from where you can explore the jungle and view the falls. We were warned at the bus station that the road to the park had been blockaded by protesters and that it might be hard to get there. Being South African, we figured we could handle a little bit of protesting, so we (very bravely) took a bus which was forced to stop at the barricade. We got out the bus to see what was going on with the intention of trying to cross the blocade to continue on to the falls. After much toyi toying and getting riled up with the locals we were allowed to cross.
However, since busses had been stopped from both sides, we had to walk in the 37 degree sun along a long road which didnt seem to end. After far too much of this walking stuff (about 5km), we spotted a taxi over yonder hill. After flagging down our little peso hungry friend, we climbed in and enjoyed the rest of the trip to the falls. All the protesting and walking had delayed our arrival significantly and so we didnt have much time to do the walks we wanted to do. However, we took a train and another walk all the way to the biggest of the falls, Garganta del Diablo (the Throat of the Devil) and we were spat on by Satan himself. The falls up close are spectacular, an emotional experience that words cant quite describe. Check out the pics and maybe play some waterfall music really loud and stand next to your sprinkler.
On the way back to our hostel we again got stuck at the protest. The protesters were schoolchildren and their parents and teachers. We soon found out that, due to a lack of funding, the schools werent doing much schooling, and the government wasnt doing much governing, and so the kids werent doing much learning, and the parents werent doing much parenting. But the protesters were doing much protesting. Sounds like home. It began to look like a scene out of a bad movie about medieval battles - The Parents vs. The Tourists. There were many irate Americans who were defiant in the face of angry moms. We began to converse with some of the protesters and soon understood their anger. We, like silly tourists, offered them money, but they refused and said that they were trying to teach their children a lesson about making things happen and not giving up... it was rather emotional. We then decided that it was no big thing for us to wait it out until they decided to open the barricade, so we chilled out with the schoolkids, who were incredibly acrobatic and began to show off by doing backflips and stuff (perhaps its because they have so much time on their hands because they`re not in school). I taught one of them to juggle with naarties and a good time was had by all, except for the Americans who were still pretty pissed off about the whole thing. We eventually got back to our hostel and had a (not very nice) meal consisting of (pretty awful) steak. But we sampled a few local drinks including Fernet and Coke (which absolutely everyone in Argentina likes to drink) and Mate (ditto). Mate is a herbal tea like thing which you mix with warm water and it keeps you awake for a year.
Wednesday
Since we found ourselves so close to the border of Paraguy, we thought we`d go say hey to the paraguyans in Ciudad del Este, so we took a bus across two borders in 30 mins and got dropped in the middle of the craziest dirtiest city in the universe.
But the whole place is a huge market where you can buy anything you want. We were offered anything from socks and underwear to Opium. Electronics in particular were insanely cheap, about half the price as they are at home. You dont need to inquire about various products, they are thrown in your face and their names are shouted at you repeatedly as if somehow if you hear it enough you will take out your money and buy the damn thing. For Steve, this happened in the form of a man selling `musical condoms`which apparently played a choice of samba, tango and pop music. I caved in after much refusing and bought these musically gifted contraceptives, only to discover that they were talentless and couldnt keep a tune. It was safe to say I had been had. But they`re Banana flavoured so they work as a snack when you`re really hungry. Just kidding.
We did purchase a couple of (fake) watches. Nadia got a great looking (fake) Puma watch for about R50 and Steve bought a Real (ly fake) Silver Rolex. Oh yes. Fausto on the other hand did not buy a watch but rather was suckered into buying some Paraguyan popfunkrocktechno which barely resembles music but rather sounds like some Paraguyan being killed by a gang of Ferrets. After saying `no, Gracias`far too much (the poiliteness soon wore off and we switched to a simple, `please leave me alone you bastard paraguyan`) we were a bit tired and very irritated (especially Steve, who clearly doesnt do well in crowds), so we caught the next bus outta there and returned to our lovely little town to enjoy cold beer and empanadas at a local restaurant.
After too much touristy spending in the last few days, we decided last night to eat and drink as cheaply as possible, so we purchased a bag of pasta from the supermaket and made a saucey dinner for under R20 for the three of us. Not bad. We also, shamefully, purchased a six pack of wine (yes, wine, not beer) for only R25. Thats R4 for a bottle of wine. However, since wine is generally made from grapes, and not gasoline mixed with rat piss, this fine brew should probably not have been called wine, and quite possibly should not have been sold or even thought of. After spitting out the wine, we went to the store to buy a bottle of actual wine which tasted fantastic. We now have five bottles of Satan`s brew.
We`re leaving this town tonight for Recistencia, so we shall blog again soon. We hope you have enjoyed our time together today. Stay in school.
Los Gringos
PS We like the comments, keep them coming
Photos from Ihla do Mel are up now, so check em out at
http://picasaweb.google.es/steveo.zogg/IhlaDoMel
Also here are the photos from Iguazu falls http://picasaweb.google.es/steveo.zogg/IguazuFallsBrazilAndArgentina
K bye
Writing to you from Puerto Iguazu, Argentina, where we`ve been hanging out for the past three days. Its a chilled out little town very close to the massive Iguazu falls. But besides the falls, the town itself is really nice, just laid back although its filled with Americans going back and forth from the falls, and who are very angry at Bush because they cant get into Brazil to see the falls from the Brazillian side. Apparently America recently said that Brazillians had to pay 130USD to visit the US, so, maturely, Brazil responded by doing exactly the same. Its pissing them off so much its hilarious. To give you an idea of where we are (get your map out at this point), the Iguazu falls come from the Rio Iguazu, which seperates Brazil and Argentina, and thus you can see the falls from Brazil and Argentina, although Argentina allows a much closer look. Paraguy is also just around the corner from here.
Right.
Tuesday
We set off from our `Hostel Sweet Hostel` in the morning heading for the Parque Nacional Iguazu, from where you can explore the jungle and view the falls. We were warned at the bus station that the road to the park had been blockaded by protesters and that it might be hard to get there. Being South African, we figured we could handle a little bit of protesting, so we (very bravely) took a bus which was forced to stop at the barricade. We got out the bus to see what was going on with the intention of trying to cross the blocade to continue on to the falls. After much toyi toying and getting riled up with the locals we were allowed to cross.
However, since busses had been stopped from both sides, we had to walk in the 37 degree sun along a long road which didnt seem to end. After far too much of this walking stuff (about 5km), we spotted a taxi over yonder hill. After flagging down our little peso hungry friend, we climbed in and enjoyed the rest of the trip to the falls. All the protesting and walking had delayed our arrival significantly and so we didnt have much time to do the walks we wanted to do. However, we took a train and another walk all the way to the biggest of the falls, Garganta del Diablo (the Throat of the Devil) and we were spat on by Satan himself. The falls up close are spectacular, an emotional experience that words cant quite describe. Check out the pics and maybe play some waterfall music really loud and stand next to your sprinkler.
On the way back to our hostel we again got stuck at the protest. The protesters were schoolchildren and their parents and teachers. We soon found out that, due to a lack of funding, the schools werent doing much schooling, and the government wasnt doing much governing, and so the kids werent doing much learning, and the parents werent doing much parenting. But the protesters were doing much protesting. Sounds like home. It began to look like a scene out of a bad movie about medieval battles - The Parents vs. The Tourists. There were many irate Americans who were defiant in the face of angry moms. We began to converse with some of the protesters and soon understood their anger. We, like silly tourists, offered them money, but they refused and said that they were trying to teach their children a lesson about making things happen and not giving up... it was rather emotional. We then decided that it was no big thing for us to wait it out until they decided to open the barricade, so we chilled out with the schoolkids, who were incredibly acrobatic and began to show off by doing backflips and stuff (perhaps its because they have so much time on their hands because they`re not in school). I taught one of them to juggle with naarties and a good time was had by all, except for the Americans who were still pretty pissed off about the whole thing. We eventually got back to our hostel and had a (not very nice) meal consisting of (pretty awful) steak. But we sampled a few local drinks including Fernet and Coke (which absolutely everyone in Argentina likes to drink) and Mate (ditto). Mate is a herbal tea like thing which you mix with warm water and it keeps you awake for a year.
Wednesday
Since we found ourselves so close to the border of Paraguy, we thought we`d go say hey to the paraguyans in Ciudad del Este, so we took a bus across two borders in 30 mins and got dropped in the middle of the craziest dirtiest city in the universe.
But the whole place is a huge market where you can buy anything you want. We were offered anything from socks and underwear to Opium. Electronics in particular were insanely cheap, about half the price as they are at home. You dont need to inquire about various products, they are thrown in your face and their names are shouted at you repeatedly as if somehow if you hear it enough you will take out your money and buy the damn thing. For Steve, this happened in the form of a man selling `musical condoms`which apparently played a choice of samba, tango and pop music. I caved in after much refusing and bought these musically gifted contraceptives, only to discover that they were talentless and couldnt keep a tune. It was safe to say I had been had. But they`re Banana flavoured so they work as a snack when you`re really hungry. Just kidding.We did purchase a couple of (fake) watches. Nadia got a great looking (fake) Puma watch for about R50 and Steve bought a Real (ly fake) Silver Rolex. Oh yes. Fausto on the other hand did not buy a watch but rather was suckered into buying some Paraguyan popfunkrocktechno which barely resembles music but rather sounds like some Paraguyan being killed by a gang of Ferrets. After saying `no, Gracias`far too much (the poiliteness soon wore off and we switched to a simple, `please leave me alone you bastard paraguyan`) we were a bit tired and very irritated (especially Steve, who clearly doesnt do well in crowds), so we caught the next bus outta there and returned to our lovely little town to enjoy cold beer and empanadas at a local restaurant.
After too much touristy spending in the last few days, we decided last night to eat and drink as cheaply as possible, so we purchased a bag of pasta from the supermaket and made a saucey dinner for under R20 for the three of us. Not bad. We also, shamefully, purchased a six pack of wine (yes, wine, not beer) for only R25. Thats R4 for a bottle of wine. However, since wine is generally made from grapes, and not gasoline mixed with rat piss, this fine brew should probably not have been called wine, and quite possibly should not have been sold or even thought of. After spitting out the wine, we went to the store to buy a bottle of actual wine which tasted fantastic. We now have five bottles of Satan`s brew.
We`re leaving this town tonight for Recistencia, so we shall blog again soon. We hope you have enjoyed our time together today. Stay in school.
Los Gringos
PS We like the comments, keep them coming
Photos from Ihla do Mel are up now, so check em out at
http://picasaweb.google.es/steveo.zogg/IhlaDoMel
Also here are the photos from Iguazu falls http://picasaweb.google.es/steveo.zogg/IguazuFallsBrazilAndArgentina
K bye
Monday, April 7, 2008
Curitiba, Ihla do Mel, Foz do Iguacu
Hi guys!
Writing from Puerto Iguacu in Argentina - that´s right, we made it outta Brazil in one piece! We`re all excited about a new country especially because its half the price of Brazil. But here is an account of our last days in Brazil... (we´ll write about our experiences in Argentina after we have a few more :))
Tuesday:
Arrived in Curitiba after a 13 hour bus ride which was not as bad as it sounds. I´d love to say it was noisy and old and full of livestock, but it was serious luxury, with fully reclining seats and only 4 other people on board, so we pretty much slept most of the way. Fonz and I slept especially well after sharing a bottle of Cachaca and Coke and falling around the bu
s a little (just a little). We waited around at the bus station a bit until Fausto`s cousin, Frederico, came to fetch us and take us to Marcella´s (Fonz´s aunt) house where we were staying for the week. After a good meal at Lokal (a local) we walked to the Botanical Gardens. It was at these very gardens that Fausto and Steve accidently became homosexuals. We must have caught it from someone in Rio. Fausto also decided that it would be fun to strip to his underwear and jog around the gardens. Fortunately, this is Brazil, and a man in his underwear jogging around is not an irregular sight. That night we went to Marcella´s bar, Villa das Artes - a nice place with a mostly regular crowd and good bands - to chill and watch a tango band.
Wednesday:
The Arsenal were playing Liverpool in the champs league today, and Esteban was not gonna miss that one, so we went to the house of another of Fausto´s cousins, Bruno, to watch the game. After a disappointing result with Arsenal being robbed of victory by the ref, Bruno took us to a local japanese rodizio. We boldly requested the all-you-can-eat option and began to clean out the japs of all of their sushi. They never saw us gluttonous Saffers coming, and we easily ate 200 USD of sushi each but only paid the $25 charge for the Rodizio. Thats for Pearl Habour, ha. We floated back to Bruno´s place, met some of his friends and chilled out. Bruno drives quite "enthusiastically", so a good chill out session was needed after every near-death-experience, I mean car ride, that he kindly took us on.
Thurs:
We checked out the local mall and soon realised that malls are boring throughout the world. Nuff said about that. True to form, when the Gringos have nothing to do you can find them at the bar drinking Caipirinhias. A fantastic Samba band was playing so we three gringo
s tried our hands at Samba dancing and while Nadia cracked it, Fonz and Steve just put their Gringoness on display for all the world to see. & Later on we met up with Bruno´s friends at a club called Ambiental. From the street though, you´d never know it was a club because it was in a residential area and noise had to be kept down. From the inside it was fantastic - lots of friendly locals and an awesome Reggae band. In Brazil everyone drinks beer outta quarts, but they share each quart out into small glasses. This means that your glass is never empty - as soon as you take a sip someone else is filling up your glass and saying something incomprehensible in Portugese. We enjoyed the 
beer and sang along to the reggae covers (which is all they play here) and stayed out rather late. The strange thing about clubs in Brazil is that you get a card in the begininng on which you fill in your details and when you order something from the bar no money changes hands but rather it gets noted on your card. This is quite smart and quite efficient, but very dangerous method of partying. At least you get a reciept so that the next day you can go back and see where it all went wrong.
Friday:
7am: A hungover Gringo (Fonzo) arrived back home from aforementioned party. We all slept in and did nothing for a while. Bruno then took us to Happy Burger (aaaah Happy Burger),
an American-Style burger place which serves cheap, huge burgers with everything on them. We then headed to a surprise party (it was a surprise to us too) and met some more (surprised) people. We became celebrities at the party solely by virtue of being from South Africa and speaking English. Everyone insisted on practicing their English on us, and some of them couldn´t speak a word, so after a while the Gringos got a bit tired of being practiced on. One of Bruno´s friends arrived and then drove us at about 2am to a town on the coast called Shangri-la (doesn´t sound Brazillian to me either). On the way Steve noticed that said friend was looking rather tired behind the wheel, and so he (bravely) volunteered to drive. Thus began his first wrong-side-of-the-road driving experience, which went off without incident (thank god). Eventually arrived in a very rustic beach town at 4:30am, at which time Steve needed a beer to calm his nerves.
Writing from Puerto Iguacu in Argentina - that´s right, we made it outta Brazil in one piece! We`re all excited about a new country especially because its half the price of Brazil. But here is an account of our last days in Brazil... (we´ll write about our experiences in Argentina after we have a few more :))
Tuesday:
Arrived in Curitiba after a 13 hour bus ride which was not as bad as it sounds. I´d love to say it was noisy and old and full of livestock, but it was serious luxury, with fully reclining seats and only 4 other people on board, so we pretty much slept most of the way. Fonz and I slept especially well after sharing a bottle of Cachaca and Coke and falling around the bu
s a little (just a little). We waited around at the bus station a bit until Fausto`s cousin, Frederico, came to fetch us and take us to Marcella´s (Fonz´s aunt) house where we were staying for the week. After a good meal at Lokal (a local) we walked to the Botanical Gardens. It was at these very gardens that Fausto and Steve accidently became homosexuals. We must have caught it from someone in Rio. Fausto also decided that it would be fun to strip to his underwear and jog around the gardens. Fortunately, this is Brazil, and a man in his underwear jogging around is not an irregular sight. That night we went to Marcella´s bar, Villa das Artes - a nice place with a mostly regular crowd and good bands - to chill and watch a tango band.Wednesday:
The Arsenal were playing Liverpool in the champs league today, and Esteban was not gonna miss that one, so we went to the house of another of Fausto´s cousins, Bruno, to watch the game. After a disappointing result with Arsenal being robbed of victory by the ref, Bruno took us to a local japanese rodizio. We boldly requested the all-you-can-eat option and began to clean out the japs of all of their sushi. They never saw us gluttonous Saffers coming, and we easily ate 200 USD of sushi each but only paid the $25 charge for the Rodizio. Thats for Pearl Habour, ha. We floated back to Bruno´s place, met some of his friends and chilled out. Bruno drives quite "enthusiastically", so a good chill out session was needed after every near-death-experience, I mean car ride, that he kindly took us on.
Thurs:
We checked out the local mall and soon realised that malls are boring throughout the world. Nuff said about that. True to form, when the Gringos have nothing to do you can find them at the bar drinking Caipirinhias. A fantastic Samba band was playing so we three gringo
s tried our hands at Samba dancing and while Nadia cracked it, Fonz and Steve just put their Gringoness on display for all the world to see. & Later on we met up with Bruno´s friends at a club called Ambiental. From the street though, you´d never know it was a club because it was in a residential area and noise had to be kept down. From the inside it was fantastic - lots of friendly locals and an awesome Reggae band. In Brazil everyone drinks beer outta quarts, but they share each quart out into small glasses. This means that your glass is never empty - as soon as you take a sip someone else is filling up your glass and saying something incomprehensible in Portugese. We enjoyed the 
beer and sang along to the reggae covers (which is all they play here) and stayed out rather late. The strange thing about clubs in Brazil is that you get a card in the begininng on which you fill in your details and when you order something from the bar no money changes hands but rather it gets noted on your card. This is quite smart and quite efficient, but very dangerous method of partying. At least you get a reciept so that the next day you can go back and see where it all went wrong.Friday:
7am: A hungover Gringo (Fonzo) arrived back home from aforementioned party. We all slept in and did nothing for a while. Bruno then took us to Happy Burger (aaaah Happy Burger),
an American-Style burger place which serves cheap, huge burgers with everything on them. We then headed to a surprise party (it was a surprise to us too) and met some more (surprised) people. We became celebrities at the party solely by virtue of being from South Africa and speaking English. Everyone insisted on practicing their English on us, and some of them couldn´t speak a word, so after a while the Gringos got a bit tired of being practiced on. One of Bruno´s friends arrived and then drove us at about 2am to a town on the coast called Shangri-la (doesn´t sound Brazillian to me either). On the way Steve noticed that said friend was looking rather tired behind the wheel, and so he (bravely) volunteered to drive. Thus began his first wrong-side-of-the-road driving experience, which went off without incident (thank god). Eventually arrived in a very rustic beach town at 4:30am, at which time Steve needed a beer to calm his nerves.Saturday:
Overslept and woke up at 10am. Headed to the port of Paranagua to catch the ferry to Ihla do Mel (honey island), a tiny little island with a population of 1000, 20km from the mainland. Cars are not allowed on the island so its pretty damn chilled out there. We arrived and walked along the beach to try and find our bearings and a place to stay for the night.
Overslept and woke up at 10am. Headed to the port of Paranagua to catch the ferry to Ihla do Mel (honey island), a tiny little island with a population of 1000, 20km from the mainland. Cars are not allowed on the island so its pretty damn chilled out there. We arrived and walked along the beach to try and find our bearings and a place to stay for the night.
Stumbled upon a bar on the beach where there was a surfing competition going on (which Steve did not enter for fear of embarassing the locals). Met two Aussies who had come to the Island planning to stay the weekend but ended up there for a month. They showed us around the island and we soon found out how easy it could be to never leave the island. Its various pousada´s (guest houses) and bars are all hidden in thick tropical jungle which leads straight onto some beaches and everything is linked by a system of beachsand paths which are overgrown with jungle (think of Lost meets The Beach and you´ve got an idea - or just look at the photos and cry a bit). Found a cool little surfers camp in the jungle a few hundred metres from the beach and rented a room for the night, before joining the Aussies (real Aussie Aussies) for a nice simple cheap dinner at a restaurant somewhere on the beachy path. 
We then met a real character called Charles, a half-English half-Brazillian guy who moved to the Island 8 years ago and now runs a small tobaccò/internet shop and very probably spends his time smoking a lot of pot and talking to himself. What we found most amusing about him was his impeccable british accent mixed with his stoner brazillian vibe and his inability to remember what he was doing two seconds ago.That night we went to a bar at the other end of the island (a ten minute walk) to watch a reggae band and chill out with the island´s population of local surfers and Australians. After stumbling home in the dark and not quite knowing where we were going, we eventually got some sleep.
Sunday:
Crappy weather today. Bruno came to meet us on the island and brought along a few surfboards, so we headed to one of the beaches and did a bit of surfing. It got quite crowded though in the water (on an Island!) so we went to have some lunch in the square, which consisted of a patch of beach sand and a couple of restaurants. It began raining hard so we decided to catch the boat back to the mainland and drove back to Curitiba. We had already booked our bus tickets to Foz do Iguacu for 9pm so we rushed to pack up our stuff before heading out to have a Churasco (braai) with Bruno before we left Brazil.
Monday:
Arrived, confused and rather tired, in Foz do Iguacu at 6am this morning and slowly found our way to the Parque Nacional Iguacu, the Brazillian Side of the monumental Iguacu falls which seperate Brazil, Paraguy and Argentina. Check out the pics and you´ll get an idea of what an amazing place it is. We then caught a bus to the Argentinian town of Puerto Iguacu, on the other side of the falls, where we are now. Its Nice!
Thats all for now - will write about the first part of Argentina soon. We´re just about to go to the grocery store for wine and not beer (this promises to please Nadia) since Argentina is the land of cheap wine and cheaper cows. Problem is that people here only eat dinner at 10pm and go out at 2am. Eish. We´ll let you know how the Gringos handle it.
Adios!
Los Gringos
P.S, you people must post more comments - as much as you wait for our blogs we wait for comments, so all those who read the blog and dont post a comment are hereby considered pooheads. Ha!
Check out pics from Curitiba at http://picasaweb.google.es/steveo.zogg/Curitiba
Unfortunately we`re having trouble getting the rest of the pics from Ihla and Foz online and we´re having even more trouble getting pics onto the site (after spending four hours in an internet cafe) so we`ll try again tomorrow. For now just read the blog multiple times and that should do it.
K bye
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