Day 1 Buenos Aires

Weather... A commendable Hispanic attempt at English drizzle.


Llama count... 0 (Disappointing but not unexpected)

I am formally introduced to Dulce de Leche at breakfast this morning. Merry would love this stuff, it is essentially super sickly condensed milk, and probably explains the large signs for diabetes treatment that I saw on the drive in last night. The hostel guests appear to consist of two nationalities, if you are male you are Norwegian, and if you are female you are Brazilian, and called Julia. I meet the two Julias, and Marcello (who is the exception to prove the rule) as I am finishing breakfast. They are in Buenos Aires for a yoga week, which starts on Thursday, and will mean four days of total silence. The three Juans and Lucas have already told me they think the Brazilian are mad. I come to a similar conclusion, and decide on this brilliant recommendation to spend the day sight seeing with them. Our first stop is the cemetery recolete, this is the final resting place of Evita... and a morbid tourist attraction. I soon learnt the portugese for ´funeral party´, as one of the Julias made a brave attempt to find a tour guide. Next stop was a museum of European fine art, which was impressive, but probably shows the pitfalls of joining south americans, who are being tourists in south america. After this the Brazilian find me some pro Malvinas island graffiti, and we head off to lunch. The Brazilian are not meant to be eating meat to prepare for their yoga, but this lasts about halfway through an empanada. The waiter really likes Manchester United, and Brazilian women (although the minute they mention yoga he seems less enthusiastic.) The afternoon is spent wondering through various parks, and then a trip to a book shop in an old theatre. (Very spectacular.)

We return to the hostel for a very late supper, and then go dancing to four in the morning to Argentinian rap and electronica- interesting cultural experience.

If I have learnt one thing in the last twenty four hours it is that Argentinians like dogs. One dog however is not enough, only five or six canine pedigrees on a lead will show that you are a proper Porteños. There is one thing Argentinians do not like doing though, they appear to have a national aversion to  cleaning up the dog poo. As a consequence I have spent the past day expertly dodging piles of the stuff.


I am now sitting exhausted in the bus station waiting for a bus to Salta. Had to explain to Barclays for most of this morning I was not a fraudster, and actually on holiday in Argentina. Also appear to have misplaced spanish disctionary. This is a big problem my spanish mi español es mierda.