Relax Yourself Through The Pleasure Of The Meat...

We have now completed our 6,500km detour via bus of the Patagonian Plateua and have made it to Beunos Aires, a city we have been looking forward to for some time. An auspicous arrival was made though with Mat's pack falling from our moving taxi when the boot opened unexpectedly on an 8 lane road en route to the hostel. Thankfully traffic was slow and no one hit it and we reversed the 100 metres back to it to pick it up. Double thanks that we hadn´t made the right hand turn onto the 16 lane '9th of July Avenue' a few hundred metres ahead.

After setting up shop, we were straight into the action, heading to the rough La Boca neighbourhood to take in some football action as the Boca Juniors took on San Martin. The Boca Juniors are a global footballing institution, a team of the Argentinean working class that have won 22 Argentine national championships, 6 South American club championships and 3 world club championchips. They add a star to their crest for every championship victory, with those above the initials for domestic titles, and those below for international titles. Consequently, their crest is full of stars (39 in total) and continually changed.

In fact, their only real downfall are their team colours which match the yellow and blue of the Swedish flag. This is beacuse in 1906 they challenged a team that wore the same colours as them (black with white pinstripes) to a duel, the winner to retain the strip while the loser had to change. Boca lost, and decided to adopt the colors of the flag of the first boat to subsequently sail into the port at La Boca. As the boat was from Sweden, yellow and blue were adopted as the new team colours (thanks to the Swedish volleyball team from Rurrenebaque for those details).

Boca took out the match 1 - 0 (fantastic header from a corner kick) in front of a good sized local crowd in amongst rain showers. Good time had, though no booze served at the match so we were unable to join in the fantastic song that accompanied all aspects of the game.

Having reported on some near misses in Bolivia, we have to report that we have suffered another loss at the hands of a criminal activites directed at tourists. Our friendly taxi driver returned a 10 peso note we offered as payment for a journey, pointing out it was counterfeit. Definately counterfeit, but before we could CSI it and determine it's source, we handed over a hundy (100) peso note to cover the bill. The taxi driver had no change unfortunately so we were handed back a hundy peso note and told not to worry about the bill. How nice...

Outside the cab, we realised the 10 peso note had to have been switched by the taxi driver as there were no creases from it being folded in my pocket. However, as he hadn't managed to get any other change from us, we thought we were even and hadn't lost anything. A few hours later while shopping, we learned that he had also managed to switch the hundy for a counterfeit one. Taxi Driver 110 - Kiwi Tourists 0. A US$37 taxi ride which should have cost US$3!!! Cheaper than a David Copperfield magic show in Las Vegas though.

After the hectic two weeks through Patagoinia, Beunos Aires was meant to be a little more relaxing - a little sight seeing and a little shopping. We enjoyed tackling the plentiful sights of Beuons Aires, checking out the important monuments, beautiful buldings and Evitas old (balcony of the pink palace where she addressed the masses) and present (Recolletta Cemetary) digs. As with all things South American, the city was beautiful and worthy of all reccommendations.

Sight seeing by morning, and a little shopping by afternoon... make that a lot of shopping. We managed to shop oursleves to a standstill, racking up 4 figures on the Visa card as we prep'd ourselves for arrival in London and re-entry to the workforce (as Gerbs pointed out, everything we wear has 'NZ' emblazoned on it and one can't attend an interview in a hoody with a dirty big Kiwi printed on the front of it). Numerous purchases made (jackets, pants, tops, boots, shoes, wallet and music), we have had to pick up an additional suitcase to carry it for the final two weeks.

One of the final acts of our time in Beunos Aires was to take in a tango show over dinner. A fantastic and extremely humerous experience was had. The show was narrated by an old coozer who looks like an inflamed hemorrhoid, featured two young dancers and a John Farnham like singer who takes the stage between dances.

While the tango was beautiful and the dancers amazing, the hemorrhoid and John Farnham provided much humour. The hemorrhoid in fact had a CD available of poems and witty stories. Alas, we were unable to make a purchase as we didn't have room in our bag for a crap CD/frisbee.

Now we didn't have the foggiest idea what John Farnham was singing about, but he had the crowd in the plam of his hand and bought at least half of the female members of the audience to tears, including an Australian lady who probably should have been helped from the room. Thankflully they all kep´t their knickers on and even participated in a little karaoke for the last song.

This caught us a little unaware, and suddenly the mic was thrust into Mat's face and all Mat could say was 'what's the words bro?'. After being told, Mat dropped it Enrique Inglesia styles - 'Caminnnnaaaaa Amiiiiigooooooo'. Crowd loved it for a second before Miss Japan entered, stage left, and dominated it Kiri Ti Kanawa styles, and even went on to sing a song solo as we exited, proving the Japanese karaoke stereotype completely true.

As this is our 4th and final blog post from Argentina, we can no longer refrain from review of the meat eating options for which Argentina is famous. Now steak always dominates a conversation of Argentinean cuisine, and it is fair to say that you can't go past a 480 gram slab of Argentinean beef, especially when it only costs US$8.

Often overlooked in discussion however is the paradilla, or Argentine BBQ. This classic affair ranges from a two person selection of meats (black pudding, liver, sheeps brain steak, sausage, chicken and lamb) served on a grill over hot embers, through the all you can eat 'tenedor libre' assault on a 30 burner BBQ managed by a team of experienced meat handlers, to the medievil pit of fire around which lamb carcuses are arranged. A perfect option for the consumer who is unsure as to which meat he or she wishes to feature in a hearty meal of meat.

Our meat eating exploits peaked when we made an appearance at the Spettus Steak House which opens it's website with the phrase 'Relax yourself through the pleasure of the meat'. Bloody good idea!

Our attendance here was thaks to Josh, an Australian we met in Puerto Madryn, who upset with his dining experience at Spettus, had been given a voucher for a free meal to put right the wrongs of his sub-standard dining experience - he did not relax through the pleasure of the meat. Unable to take them up on the offer, we gratefully received the voucher for our own use.

At US$20 a head without desert or drinks, this is a more expensive dining option in Argentina. We were cordially greeted, seated, and presented with a small piece of card. Double sided, the card´s red side to indicate 'No More Meat', the green for 'Load Me Up Bro'. Card turned to green, waiters flocked from the kitchen to our table, with the finest of meat cuts on a skewer, reading for carving straight to the plate.

Succulent pork, perfectly rare lamb, exquisite beef and other sensationally tasting meats made their way to our plate, and then our stomach. At one stage, it all got too much for Mat who, suffering from meat dilerium, returned from the salad bar with a squid ring, slice of gorganzola cheese, piece of prosciutto ham, a pineapple ring and three prawns. A poor effort. The towell was thrown in at 10.30pm with the meat card turned to 'No More Meat'.

Between the sight seeing, shopping and late night meat fests, we didn't find the energy to hit the famous clubs (though are saving ourselves for some massive sessions in Rio with Brett & Carrie from our Mexican travels). A little dissappointing, especially when we found a concert being held across the road from our hostel by Delores O'Riordan - lead singer of the Cranberries and, apologetically, Mat's idol of the 90's (anyone who saw his bedroom in 97 will understand).

Our final effort was a quick haircut, a rather interesting experience as it was delivered by a transvestite hair dresser (born with meat and taties) with a broken arm. Did a good job though and we promised to keep in contact...

To Iguazu at the border of Brazil now for some waterfall action, before a week beachside in Rio with fellow travellers Brett & Carrie (we can sense a panty ripp already). Congrats to the Makos who have bolstered the playing roster with another non-playing All Black (this one is honest though and promises to not even attend training). Tough loss against Wellington but bring on the Steamers. And great to see that 62% of readers think the Makos are going to the top 8 this year, while the other 38% are losers.

Dos Puertos (Two Ports)

And now to our roving travel reporters who have been travelling through the seaside communities of Puerto Natales in Chile and Puerto Madryn in Argentina....

Thanks Judy.

Our second to last stop on the Patagonian extension was a side trip back into Chile to the town of Puerto Natales. For the general world population (anyone non Chilean), Puerto Natales is in the south of Chile, 230kms north of the southern most town of Punta Arenas. For Chileans, Puerto Natales is in fact 265kms north of the geographic centre of Chile which extends from 19 degrees south at the northern border with Peru, all the way to the south pole in Antarctica. They have backed up this territorial claim by sending a Chilean woman to Antarctica to give birth (sending her their to conceive was considered too expensive) and by maintaining a monument, 265kms to the south, marking the geographic centre of the country.

Our intended accommodation in Puerto Natales had undergone a bit of a revamp since the Lonely Planet was printed, with the price of a room rising from US$23 to US$165 per night. A little short on cash, we by-passed and ended up staying at 'Hostel Lili' which was in fact a guy called Pedro's private house - he'd made a flyer using his new computer and pirate copy of Microsoft Works to pronounce his house a 'hostel', and apart from the flyer, there was no other suggestion that this run of the mill house was indeed a hostel. It was here we met Ewok, his pet dog that insisted on dry humping/red rocketing us (South park episode featuring dogs on heat - google it if you must...) whenever he saw us.

Our short stay in Puerto Natales was in order to visit the Torres del Paine national park, a beautiful national park dotted with glacial lakes and punctured by a dominating geologic intrusion producing some truly spectacular mountains. The drive into the park was worth the admission price itself as the Patagonian plateau was shrouded by mist as the sun rose following some fresh snow.

Yet another photo safari from the comfort of a tourist mini-bus was had as picture postcard vista after picture postcard vista unfolded in front of us within the national park. The mountains are much younger than the Andean range in which they sit, and rise upwards dramatically in near vertical blocks. Glacial melt pouring from the mountains create beautiful lakes, while ice bergs calve off regularly to complete the landscape that Craig Potton dreams of.

We were also fortunate along the way to encounter plenty of the native wildlife, with Condors, Grey Fox, Woodpeckers, Armadillos, Emo like things and wild Llamas making appearances, all on cue.


From this, our southern most point on our trails, we boosted north via yet another night bus to Puerto Madryn on the Atlantic Coast (rapidly closing in on 250 hours each on buses). Whales were on the menu here, metaphorically speaking, with Mat hopeful of a sighting. In fact, some particularly patchy facial growth depended on it - 'Whales or Wales' had been the call. A shave once we see Whales, or once we go to Wales for the rugby world cup quarter final. Wasn´t long till this was settled though as a walk down to the harbour to grab a feed revealed a half dozen whales sitting a few hundred metres off the beach.

The afternoon was spent at a local Ecocentre which provided a fantastic overview of the marine environment and terrific viewing point for the sunset. It also delivered some fantastic public amenities which included the smallest toilet we´ve ever seen. Now gents will be used to seeing a smaller sized, scaled down urinal in a row of 6 at a public toilet, designed in smaller proportions to cater to the under 8 year old clientelle. Well, these guys took it a little further and also provided a scaled down toilet in proportion for the under 8´s, which came as a bit of a surprise for Mat who now understands what it must be like to be 8 foot 9 and using a standard sized toilet.


Another tour was booked, and we headed out to the Peninsula Valdes for whale watching and a general looksee. The first stop was a magical moment and a 'Top 10' highlight of the five months travelling to date. Seated on a steep profiled mixed gravel beach (GEOG311 - Coastal Processes), we were able to watch a couple dozen Southern Right Whales playing in the rising sun. A truly spectacular sight, highlighted by a mother nursing her calve no more than 50 metres from shore.



From this magic moment we lurched to another as we took to the sea to check out the action. It´s mating season at the moment and we soon found ourselves in the centre of whale orgy with three males red rocketing one female, all within a few metres of our boat. Extremely hard to describe in words the size of these animals ('16 metres in length' doesn´t really do them justice), other than to say we were mesmerised as they passed under the boat and surfaced only a few metres away. And for those wondering, the photo below has not been cropped!

And if Ewok and whales red rocketing wasn´t enough, Mat had a pleasant experience when after watching a couple of whales, he turned round to get a faceful of Spanish man crotch! One spectator had forgotten the important concept of ´personal space´ on the whale watching boat and had gotten so close to Mat (who was kneeling at the time) a face full of crotch was received when Mat turned to vacate his posi.

The rest of the day took in the beautiful scenery of the peninsular and other wildlife, including Sealions, Elephant Seals and more Emu lke things. However, following the charismatic megafauna (whales) is a tough act and hardly worth a blog mention.


As our arrival in London draws increasingly close, we have had a few reminders in the last week of how fortunate we have been on our travels to date (touching all wood in proximity!). Was only 4 months ago that we were in Jamaica, the Yacatun and Belize which are currently being rampaged by Hurricane Dean, while news of the near total destruction of Pisco (Peru earthquake) where we were based only 8 weeks ago only confirms our good fortune.

Octagon has re-posted and there is now a poll for voting on the chances of Tasman Mako success in 2007. Onwards to Beunos Aires where shopping and meat await. Back to you in the studio Judy...

Ice Ice Baby

Since our last blog we’ve made great progress on the Patagonian extension. The first leg saw us depart with heavy heart from the red wine Mecca of Mendoza, busing 17 hours through the night to the lakeside ski resort of Bariloche (or San Carlos de Bariloche for those parents at home trying to locate it on the map).

Our travels in Argentina have seen us sleeping in by far the best accommodations of our four and half months on the road. Our hostel in Bariloche stood out in a number of respects and rates a blog mention. Criticised relatively heavily in our Lonely Planet Guide, a couple of British friends advised us not to miss ‘Hostel 1004’…

Our taxi dropped us outside an auspicous looking apartment building, and after 10 minutes of searching for any sign of a hostel, a doorman directed us to the service elevator of the appalling blemish on the Bariloche waterfront that was the previously mentioned apartment building. Emerging on the 10th floor, we found a door at the end of a long hallway (think of the hotel from Stephen King’s ´The Shining’) labelled ‘1004’.

Essentially, this hostel is actually a penthouse apartment, subdivided within to fit a few extra rooms and offering fantastic views of the lake and surrounding alps. The communal lounge area was graced with the sweet smell of incense and a gaggle of seasoned Bariloche travellers.

It is funny how you find travellers that have been in a place for one week longer than you have, have purchased numerous beaded necklaces, live in a pair of multicoloured travel pants and have likely paid too much for a jamaican coloured bag, that will look down their nose at "newbs" that have just arrived. The locals in the hostel were a little like that, but needless to say it was still beautiful and we had a great time.

The big ticket item for winter travellers to Bariloche is skiing at Catedral, the southern hemispheres largest skifield. Now to be fair, reports from other travellers on the skiing were poor. Two weeks without snow, continual low cloud and plenty of tossers on snowboards (no criticism intended) were the general comments that proceeded our arrival. Thankfully, the day of our arrival signalled an end to a recent storm, with 70cms of fresh snow to greet us on the Catedral slopes.

An early start saw us at the top of the mountain by 9.30am to catch the sun rising over the lake, Caroline kitted out in a rented 80’s ski kit that would have Mount Olympus members grinning from ear to ear (with compulsory glass of Pimms in hand). The snow and weather were fantastic, and with Mat hangover free this time, we were able to ‘carve pow pow 8´s on our static planks’ all day long on any of the 30 different runs.

With a morning remaining in Bariloche after the skiing, we headed towards the gondola for the Cerro Otto lookout. Upon departure, all was in hand for some great views. Unfortunately, as we climbed to the 1332m lookout, the cloud base descended from 1500m to 1331m, obscurring any views from the 360 degree revolving/revolting restaurant. Nevermind – when life deals you lemons, make lemonade. Or in our case, grab a mulled wine and beer and time how long it takes the restaurant to do a full revolution (18 minutes and 20 seconds fot those playing at home).

From Bariloche, we farewelled our new friends at Hostel 1004, looked disapprovingly down the nose at ´newbs´ arriving and missioned it on three buses and 35 hours on the road to El Calafate at 50 degrees south.This journey took us into the heart of Patagonia where the wind shaped environment is truly spectacular. We arrived in El Calafate in the wee hours to the start of 24 hours snowfall.

Here, the must see attraction is the national park full of glaciers. With the snow easing, we made our way to the star of the show, the Perito Moreno Glacier, a glacier which terminates in a 180 metre deep lake and makes the Franz Josef look like a defrosting incident with a late model Fisher & Paykel freezer.

To gauge the enormity, that is a 300 seat sight-seeing ferry half way up on the right side of the photo!

As the day progressed, the weather lifted and the true enormity of this beast was revealed, as were the changing colours of the ice field. While checking it out from the comfort of a 30 metre launch on the lake, we were lucky enough to witness an ice calving event, with a chunk the size of two shipping containers taking the plunge and sending out a wave Piha would be proud of.

From here, we head a little further south before making the massive effort back to the north for our departure from Rio in three weeks time. We´ve updated the travel map on the right panel to reflect the new route, and big ups to the Makos on their massive win over the Magpies – may the climb up the ladder continue this weekend against the mighty Taniwha.