Where do I begin? We got on and it was practically empty - happy days got a double seat each, settled down to wait on the waiter to bring us our welcome sweets to get the appetitie going for the potential gastromnomic delights of dinner! The movie came on and it was Brazilian, decided to watch it anyway that was until the first secen came on and I wanted to gouge my eyes out it was HORRENDOUS - so cheesy I couldnīt take it so I decided to do my favourite past-time and people watch. At this point you see the bus had filled up and 4 locals (not exactly where they could possibly be local to!) were sitting in front of us. Two men and two women - rough as f**k and speaking a language that couldn`t possibly be human
. In fact haveyou ever read BFG? Well they were live versions of the giants described in that book! The woman in fact of me - who definately had nits (still scratching my head in paranoid fashion) and her husband definately did not know the boundaries of acceptable bus behaviour! The the big brute on the otehr side of the bus started scratching his arse, and I mean his hand was way down there - it was disgusting - Mr Gary oblivious to the whole thing sleeping as usual - then and I mean this is where it gets worse - I could see him out the corner of my eyes picking his nose and then sniffing his fingers. I canīt go on anymore - i`m still heaving from the experience! I was so disgusted that I couldnīt bring myself to eat the soggy sandwiches that the bus boy threw at me - as tempting as they were! So there you go bus number three was the Hell bus - dirty big brutes, no waiter, no wine, champagne not even a pillow - although one good thing came from it: friends my Scratch`n`Sniff theory was correct!!
So that ordeal over that night we went out for a tango show. One thing that's pretty obvious here is how proud the Argies are of their dance. There are Tango show's everywhere, posters, paintings, photographs everywhere you look. We booked a show through the hostel, and went for a wee drink at a resturaunt before it started. As usual, this wee drink turned into us being pissed and late for the show, but for once it wasn't really our fault
. We ordered two beers, and the guy brought us two litre bottles each. We eventually found the place were the show was (my inner indian guide wasn't drinking) but it tuns out they were having "technical problems" and sent us to another place. Now, my Indian Guide must have had a quick drink while I wasn't looking, because we ended up going the wrong way. Even though the guy that sent us on drew me a map. But as I tried to explain to Cal, he drew it UPSIDE DOWN, so it wasn't my fault. Everyone knows when you're drawing a map, North goes at the top! It's common sense ffs! Anyway, we eventually found the place (well, the taxi driver did) and were greeted warmly by some old men straight out of the Godfather. It was 90 Pescos for the evening. That included the show, your food and (were we made our money back) your drink. Now Argentina is famous for its steaks, and I wasn't really expecting anything special, but they are unbelievable
. Big fat, juicy, bloody, half pound sirlions that would turn any veggie into Fred Flintstone. We had a steak in London thinking it would be our last for a year, but we've had one pretty much everyday since we got here! No wonder I'm putting on weight. But I'm sure it's going to be a different story in Peru and Bolivia, so might as well enjoy it while it lasts!
The Tango show itself was very good. There was actually more singing than dancing, but the singing was great
. We felt like we were at the wedding in the Godfather. I asked the waiter would he have Cailin whacked for me, but he said he wouldn't kill anyone on this, the day of his daughters wedding.
So after staggering in last night about 3, we set the alarm for 7:30, woke up, turned it off, went back to sleep, and got up at 11 instead. The plan was to grab the boat over to Uraguay for a couple of days, but when we got to the port there were no sailings left. So it was back into town to try and find another hostel. Luckily we did, and it's a cracker! Beautiful inside, free tango lessons, spanish lessons, a rooftop bar, free internet access and spotless. Can't beat it with a big stick.
We dropped our stuff off, then headed to another part of town called La Boca. This is a beautiful part of town were all the artists hang out. The houses here are painted a rainbow of colours and there are street stalls selling all these amazing crafts and paintings. This was the closest I felt to being back in Europe. Somewhere like Spain or Italy obviously, not that sh1t hole I live in.
Back to BA from Iguazu, only this time it wasn't as enjoyable as the trip up. There was only one seat left on the overnight express, so we had to take the regular 18 hour bus instead. I'll let Cal describe it......