The End Of The Road

After a couple of nights in Buenos Aires, Tom and I were joined by an old friend of mine. I met Kitty in New Zealand whilst Rory and I were travelling on the Stray bus through the South Island and we have kept in contact with each other ever since. When I first told Kitty of our plans to see South America, she was already in Brazil celebrating the carnival season. She asked if we minded an extra companion for a bit throughout the south and of course Tom didn't mind so now the two of us are 3.

Our flight to Ushuaia was at 5:30am so we ditched our nice soft beds in our hostel and opted for a nights accommodation in the comfort of Buenos Aires Domestic airport and it’s marble floor. A decision we unanimously regretted within 12 to 13 seconds of assuming a sleeping position. In an attempt to make the experience a little more bearable I strategically positioned a rolled up jumper under my shoulders, a flip-flop under each bum cheek and all my valuables wrapped in a towel under my head. The towel-safety-pillow was ingeniously created to provide not only a soft headrest but also prevent me from being looted while I dozed. Ironically enough, it was the towel-safety-pillow that was mostly to blame for me not getting an ounce of sleep all night. I can however reliably report that no looting occurred so initial field testing was 50% successful.

Ushuaia is officially the most southerly city on the planet with the next stop pretty much being Antarctica. This means its pretty cold even in the summer. I didn’t realise quite how cold however until I stepped off the plane in my shorts, flip-flops and tee shirt, prompting a quick costume change at the luggage carousel before any more locals gave me the “Bloody tourist’s” look. I read that it’s possible, given a lot of time and holiday pay, to drive all the way from Barrow in the north of Alaska down to Ushuaia. Why anyone would travel 9500 odd miles to visit the place seems a little strange but it’s still pretty nice. Due to it’s remoteness the whole area has remained relatively untouched by humans. According to a leaflet I found in the hostel lobby, this makes for a lovely stroll so that’s exactly what we did. We followed a path which lead us to the bottom of the city and eventually joined a road which we then followed to it’s climax, a big sign saying “The End of the Road”. At least that’s what I think it said, my Spanish is still a little rusty. I found a definition of ‘The End of the Road’ that reads - The point where it is no longer possible to continue with a process or activity. In this case the process was maintain a core body temperature above 37 degrees. So after the mandatory tourist photo we got back to the hostel as fast as we could so I could put a few more layers on.

El Superclasico

When Tom and I first booked our flights to Buenos Aires we instantly checked to see whether Boca Juniors or River Plate (The 2 local Football Teams) were playing as we had heard from several sources that these matches were not to be missed. Whilst walking around the city it soon becomes apparent that football is something the Argentineans are really quite passionate about. Every other shop has a jersey in the window, any empty plot of concrete is covered with kids practising their tricks and, as I’ve mentioned before, Argentina's Idol Maradona is a god here. So when we discovered the season finished the week before we arrived, you can imagine we were somewhat disappointed.

It wasn’t until checking in at our first hostel that I noticed signs for El Superclasico plastered on every door, that I realised we had made a welcomed mistake. Not only was the season still in full swing but this weekends games was the biggest of the season. Boca Juniors Vs River Plate, one of the fiercest local derbies on the planet.

We were picked up by 3 rather unsavoury Argentinean men who ticked our names off a list and ushered us onto a large orange bus. All the windows were covered by curtains and it was dark inside but we were assured that this was in our best interest. Apparently, alerting locals to the fact we were a bus full of gringos in La Boca was like teasing a lion with a bit of steak. Eventually we arrived at the ground and were told it was safe to get off the bus. Safe in the sense that there were riot police covering every curb for as far as the eye could see. The second we stepped foot off the bus the heavens opened and within minutes Tom and I were drenched. This wasn’t helped by the 2 hour queue to get into the stadium in which we had to stand with nothing but a torn bin liner for partial cover.

The atmosphere once inside the ground was amazing. The crowd in the stadium were so lively and vocal they would have made your average 70’s Millwall fan look more like a spectator at Henley regatta. The fans had dressed the entire stadium in banners and flags, 3 tiers filled with a sea of blue and yellow. This was no easy feat, men were literally putting their lives at risk to decorate every empty gap in the stadium. We watched as men scaled 10m high barbed wire fences with bulging bin liners in tow just to hand out some newspaper fashioned into confetti. The atmosphere grew and grew for the entire run up to kick off and the songs never stopped. At one stage there was a flag lowered at the opposite end of the stadium that dropped from the very top of the 3rd tier and covered the entire stand to the bottom. It must have been obscuring the views of at least 30,000 people but they didn't seem to mind as it swayed with the fans dancing below. There were so many streamers, confetti, fireworks and flares set off that before the game could start an army of stewards had to run on the pitch and try to clear the mess.

I would have loved to take some photos but we were heavily advised to not take any expensive items, I was even advised to take the £10 Argos watch off my wrist. The best I can do is link you to a video somebody else bravely captured:

Sadly due to the rain, and the water logging of the entire pitch, the game was called off 15 minutes in, but the spectacle of seeing the build up was an experience in itself. The good news is they are replaying the game tomorrow so we get to see it all again, two for the price of one. Just hope the sun fancies making an appearance this time.

Change In All Things Is Sweet

So, I’ve now spent my first couple of days back in the rigmarole of living out of a rucksack in Sydney contemplating why I hadn’t been here sooner. It really is a quite spectacular city. The majority of my time has been spent taking classic tourist photos and talking to strangers, but its been an enjoyable experience nonetheless. I left Melbourne rather emotionally after spending the last 12 months as one of the cities inhabitants. I’d become pretty acclimatised to the surroundings, made many friends and a quite favourable life for myself. I’ve also learnt a lot from living in such a cosmopolitan city. For example, I now know I prefer Hollandaise sauce to ketchup on my breakfast and how a Sushi restaurant with revolving table works. But I don’t wish to dwell on my deportation too much as change is on the horizon and a bit of that never hurt anyone. With the obvious exception of climate change that is. Which, according to the experts, is going to endanger just about every human on the planet for centuries to come. Now there's a cheerful opening thought.

I’ve been landed in Buenos Aires for almost 24 hours now but sadly I can’t tell you an awful lot about the place. Due to jet lag, I’ve spent nearly all daylight hours sleeping and the entire night wide awake. In the brief encounters I have had with the place thus far, I have made the following observations.

• Diego Maradona’s face is on literally everything except bank notes.
• Mullets, Perms & sometimes a splendid combination of the two are still very much ‘in Vogue’.
• Prolonged exposure to Salsa music is not conducive to mental stability.
• Spanish speaking people don’t understand me even when I try dropping in a little French.

That’s all I’ve got in the note pad so far but Tom should arrive any minute now and hopefully he’s a little more immune to the effects of long haul flights than myself. As strange as this may sound it feels great to be out of my comfort zone again and wonder around taking everything in with an exciting curiosity.