TravelStream™ news feed for member nigelball on TravelPod's free travel blogs service http://www.travelpod.com/syndication/rss/nigelball en-us Copyright ©2009 TravelPod.com Wed, 05 Jul 2006 15:18:53 -0400 http://www.travelpod.com http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/nigelball/tour/1150214700/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/nigelball/tour/1150214700/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/nigelball/tour/1150214700/tpod.html Wed, 05 Jul 2006 15:18:53 -0400 I´m going from Santiago, Chile, over the Andes, through Argentina, to Montevideo, Uruguay, on my own, on a bike. I know what you´re thinking.

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Buenos Aires, Argentina

In Recoleta, the posh bit of town, there's a massive cememtery for the rich and famous where the graves were more like miniature mansions (why build such ostentatious monuments to the dead?!). All kinds of top Argentinian celebrities were entombed within, including Evita and all the presidents who got named after streets (or was it the other way round?). They were all kept company by a large gaggle of suspiciously gregarious cats (what were they planning?), some of who were even black, presumably introduced to enhance the macabre effect.

I also saw a giant mechanical flower that opens and closes wirth the sun just like real ones, and went to the old Colon Theatre, an opera house dating from Argentina's early twentieth-century heyday, built in the grandest style using marble from all over the world and taking about twenty years to put up. Sadly the modern art museum was closed on a long-term basis, although at least it had the good grace to follow the trend and be housed in an old factory. I found another one to go to instead.

I met up with Maria Jose again to say a final goodbye. It had been fabulous to see her again so unexpecedtly (shame Leandro wasn't there too) and meet her sister, a really nice stroke of luck. Maybe one day we will even encounter each other a third time. Anita took me out for a farewell dinner, which she insisted on paying for as she wanted to be invited to my wedding. Anita, it was a pleasure to meet you and thank you so much for your kindness - I hope we stay in touch, and maybe meet again one day should I ever get married!

On the last day, I cycled my way to the airport along the worst motorway of the trip by far, nearly killing myself in the process. I was stopped by a policeman who said the following: "Bikes aren't allowed on the motorway, and there's cameras, so we'll spot you if you try, but there's no other way to get the airport so off you go." This is the sort of attitude I like. Not what you expect of a police officer, I'd have said.

And that, folks, is all.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/nigelball/tour/1149991620/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/nigelball/tour/1149991620/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/nigelball/tour/1149991620/tpod.html Wed, 05 Jul 2006 15:01:08 -0400 I´m going from Santiago, Chile, over the Andes, through Argentina, to Montevideo, Uruguay, on my own, on a bike. I know what you´re thinking.

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Buenos Aires, Argentina

The strange thing is, that although this entry is dated June 10th, I'm writing it nearer July 10th, almost a month too late. Things have been so hectic since I got back that I have been unable to get a chance to update the blog. And now I am away in Manchester and Canterbury until August whilst my diary, which recorded (in a somewhat blander form than you are treated to here) my day-to-day activities, is back home in London. Which means I can't really remember what I got up to during my week in Argentina's massive capital, never mind how I felt. Que problema.

However, you are probably relieved as it means it will make for a nice short entry. In the first few days, in no particular order, I did the following:
1. Met up with my relative Anita, aunt of Pablo, my host in Montevideo (see that entry if you want to try and work out the relationship!). She suggested we meet at Buenos Aires's poshest hotel (it's in the world's top twenty), so I scared her by saying I'd arrive on my bike with a big beard (but I chickened out and took the tube and trimmed the beard a little bit).
2. Fate arranged it that I was in Buenos Aires at the same time as the wonderful Maria Jose was back visiting her sister, and they invited me round. I looked at a map and it looked to be one road all the way, so I decided to cycle. What I neglected to account for was the fact that since Argentinian cities are made of blocks (and I don't mean breeze blocks, ho ho), all the streets are one-way, and this one went against my directional wishes. After much zigzagging up adjacent streets and a fair amount of getting lost, I finally made it. Once there, I attempted, with limited success, to recreate for them my wonderful invented meal of a couple of weeks previously. It's not that great, actually, I think I was deluding myself. Maria Jose did home-made milanesas, though, which really were great. Her sister has the world's cutest baby, Nahuel, who never made a fuss about anything despite being age 1.
3. I saw some of the sights of Buenos Aires, which I won't talk about as I don't want to spoil things in case you ever go.

Have a peek at the photos and then I'll tell you about my last few days.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/nigelball/tour/1149645900/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/nigelball/tour/1149645900/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/nigelball/tour/1149645900/tpod.html Sat, 17 Jun 2006 21:34:22 -0400 I´m going from Santiago, Chile, over the Andes, through Argentina, to Montevideo, Uruguay, on my own, on a bike. I know what you´re thinking.

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Colonia del Sacramento, Uruguay

There was a two-day bike ride or a two-hour bus ride between Montevideo and Colonia, from where I could get the boat over the (very very wide) river to Buenos Aires. Which should I choose? Which would you choose? Pablo presented me with every bit of data I could ever need in order to make an informed decision, including phoning up the bus companies for prices, times and level of bike friendliness, and even checking the forecasted wind direction on the internet (cos you know how wind and cyclists don't get along). Eventually I decided to get the bus, not because I had any reason or excuse to, but just because I was feeling slack. I know, over three thousand kilometres by bike and I bailed cos I was feeling slack.

Colonia Del Sacramento is a very old colonial town (does the name give it away?) which the Spanish and Portugese spent a few centuries fighting over. The historical part was indeed pretty but full of tourists waving their cameras around and getting in my photos.

I thought I had managed to plan it so that I had just enough Uruguayan currency left, since I would be back in Argentina the next day. However, I almost ended up having to amputate a limb in order to pay for what I thought had been a very modest lunch. It cleaned me out of pesos uruguayos, so I considered not eating until I was back in Argentina. However, this was not until lunchtime the next day, and I was already hungry again by mid-afternoon, so I decided to ask a supermarket if I could pay in Argentinian money. I could, but then they gave me change in Uruguayan money, so now I had too much, so had to change that back into Argentinian money in Argentina. Bring on the Euro, that's what I say.

Beard status: as I sat on the bus between Montevideo and Colonia, a woman boarded and occupied the vacant seat to my side. As the conductor passed by, she asked him if there were any other seats free. Must be for a friend of hers, I thought. When the conductor returned having located a free seat, the lady moved out of my company. Do I smell? I did a quick armpit assessment but all was fine. I can therefore only conclude that it was the beard. It's going to have to go, guys.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/nigelball/tour/1149559380/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/nigelball/tour/1149559380/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/nigelball/tour/1149559380/tpod.html Sat, 17 Jun 2006 14:02:24 -0400 I´m going from Santiago, Chile, over the Andes, through Argentina, to Montevideo, Uruguay, on my own, on a bike. I know what you´re thinking.

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Montevideo, Uruguay

Pablo met me in the coach station in Montevideo, where it wasn't raining - or at least not as much. The next morning, he drove me around Montevideo showing me the sights and filling me in on the stories, both the public and personal (such as where he shook the hand of Prince Charles - or did he?). However, the bad weather had not confined itself either to yesterday or to Paysandú, and our sightseeing was dampened accordingly. One particularly memorable view was from the top of el cerro, "the hill", where you can see over the whole of Montevideo, or, in our case, some particularly attractive fog.

Montevideo is a city of some three million, located on the River Plate, and with beaches all along its coastline, right in the heart of the city. Having arrived in the dark, I was rather taken aback when I looked out the window of Pablo's tall apartment building in the centre of town the next morning to see a beach and a palm tree. But even his view wasn't as good as that from the apartment of his parents, where I went for lunch on my last day (and needless to say managed not to have my camera with me).

Pablo sat me down the night I arrived with a pen and paper and told me to prove that we were related, otherwise he'd be charging board and lodging. We managed to work out that we were third cousins, and had the same great great grandparents. Quite impressive, huh? His Parents, Pedro and Eva, took us all out for lunch the next day and Pedro was able to fill in the blanks. It's quite interesting so here goes: my Mum's Grandad, Arthur, and Pablo's Dad's Grandma, Sabina, were brother and sister in Switzerland. Arthur came to England and married, and had my Gran, who had my Mum, who had me. Sabina had Pablo's Gran, Cecily (this is my Gran's cousin - confused yet?), who married a German, Charles, and being Jewish they were forced to flee Europe in the 30s, and came to Uruguay, owing to that being the only place prepared to have them at the time. They had Pedro and Anita (who I will be meeting in Buenos Aires, back in Argentina), and Pedro had Pablo. Fascinating stuff.

I also went to the movies to see the Da Vinci Code with Pablo and his girlfriend, Sylvia, thinking I would have no problems as it was in English with Spanish subititles. However, as you will know if you have seen it, much of it is not in English but French and some other gibberish language, perhaps it was Latin, I don't know. But the subtitles, of course, were still in Spanish, and owing to it being amongst the plottiest and most gripping films I've ever seen, this increased significantly my motivation to understand my chosen second language.

Pablo deserves a MASSIVE shout out here for being such a kind host, insisting I make myself totally at home, offering me unlimited assistance with the remains of my journey, giving over his whole weekend to me despite recovering from his ironman triathlon (which, by the way, he completed in around 12h50m, astonishingly almost the exact same time as last year), and refusing ever to let me contribute to expenses. I don't feel a mere thank you is enough, but I can at least say in the presence of these many witnesses that Pablo, you have an open invitation to visit us in England whenever you wish!

Miles munched: While Pablo was at work on Monday, I went around Montevideo on my bike, to snap some photos. Somehow I managed to cycle about 30 miles. Taking photos. How?
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/nigelball/tour/1149569940/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/nigelball/tour/1149569940/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/nigelball/tour/1149569940/tpod.html Sat, 17 Jun 2006 13:13:31 -0400 I´m going from Santiago, Chile, over the Andes, through Argentina, to Montevideo, Uruguay, on my own, on a bike. I know what you´re thinking.

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Montevideo, Argentina

Since I had managed to fill up all six of the memory cards for my digital camera due to my trigger happy overuse of the fabulous little machine, Pablo kindly offered to burn the photos onto CD for me so as I could free up some space on the cards. This we did at his office after lunch on my last day in Montevideo. Now I know what computers are like and could not help but feel nervous as the computer performed this task, and Pablo warned me not to watch it as it could feel my anxiousness and, computers being inherently spiteful, would deliberately mess it up to annoy me. As such I hid in an adjacent room so as to be ablke to bite my nails in safety. Astonishingly, the first CD we did worked first time, but the computer decided that was all it was in the mood for today. With the second, it would tantalise us by reaching 99% in the status bar and would then decide that on second thoughts, it couldn't be bothered and would ruin the CD. It did this repeatedly. After a while, Pablo told me to go and do some more sightseeing while there was still daylight. I told him not to bother to keep fighting with the computer which was evidently determined to win in the end, but when I returned that evening, he reported that he had spent the whole afternoon attempting to get the thing to work, to no avail, leading to understandable acts of violence to be inflicted upon the ruined CDs, even though they were probably the innocent party in the whole debacle. Goodness knows how many CDs he got through. I would like to comfort Pablo with the following bible story:

Genesis chs 5-9

God became angered by the wickedness of man on earth, and sought to punish him. But a man called Bill Gates found favour with the Lord, and He said to him "You shall build a machine called the Personal Computer, and these machines shall flood the earth, and there shall be one within reach of every human being, for I regret that I have created them, and wish to punish them. You shall lull the people into thinking these machines are wonderful and can perform miracles, but you shall have them run on an operating system that you shall call Windows, which will cause the machine to malfunction disastrously at the most critical moments, such as after having spent hours perfecting the most masterful weblog entry or trying to put photos onto a CD (a process you shall ironically call 'burning'). This will provoke the highest levels of frustration in man, previously unseen on this earth. Women shall weep for mercy. Men shall smash things. When they are forced to abandon hope of recovery and reach for the 'reset' button, you shall be sure to enhance their wrath by displaying the message 'improper shutdown detected' as if it is their fault."
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/nigelball/tour/1149296760/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/nigelball/tour/1149296760/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/nigelball/tour/1149296760/tpod.html Sat, 10 Jun 2006 22:02:29 -0400 I´m going from Santiago, Chile, over the Andes, through Argentina, to Montevideo, Uruguay, on my own, on a bike. I know what you´re thinking.

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Paysandú, Uruguay

Whilst reading this entry, it is important to bear two things in mind throughout:
(1) this was due to be my last day of cycling anywhere, and
(2) My original plan was to have already reached Paysandú, Uruguay, from where I could get a bus to Montevideo.
However, as you know, last night, for the first time, my usual perfect timing of arriving in time for dusk failed me - the light ran out - I didn't make it. I got only as far as Colon, and when I awoke, all ready to make the short hop across the Rio Uruguay and the international border, it was raining. Really raining. And in case I though it wasn't serious, it threw in a bit of thunder and lightning to boot. My last day cycling, which wasn't even supposed to be, after seven weeks of dry days, and I was going to get wet.

But that wasn't all, oh no, Mr Sod had more in store for me. Having got me and my bike all kitted up for a soaking, I got 100 yards down the road to notice that one of the bolts holding my rack to bicycle had absented itself without gaining clearance for leave. Now these bolts are notorious for shaking themselves loose, but this one, to its credit, had gone over 2500km without doing. Why, on my last day cycling?! "Where is it?" I asked Packhorse, in my sternest future-teacher voice. "What do you mean you don't know? How can something just disappear? It's simply unacceptable, you need to reform your behaviour or there will be consequences."

Luckily, I had remembered the cub scout motto, 'be prepared', and had a spare bolt with me, and by skimping on the washers persuaded it to fit. I eventually got going, and after a short while found myself crossing a small bridge that the rain had transformed into an aquaduct. I was so preoccupied with indignation for my wet feet that I didn't notice the big lorry coming up fast from behind. I also failed to predict how close it would be forced to pass owing to a vehicle approaching from the opposite direction. I'm sure you've already guessed what happened next: the big wheels threw the entire contents of the formidable puddle high into the air right in front of my face. I was accordingly absolutely soaked to the skin, but for some reason found the whole episode deliriously funny.

By some miracle I got over the border smoothly, and to Paysandú, which I decided no matter how beautiful was not worthy of exploration in the pouring rain, so headed straight for the bus station. There, a young boy took a great interest in my bike. He was wearing a beanie and a hoodie (you know the look) and his face had yet to grow into his big new adult teeth, giving him an amicable, bugs-bunny look (if only I'd had a carrot, what a photo it'd've made!). Being as I am a great believer in education, I compensated for his unaccountable absence from school by attempting to explain why three cogs at the front and eight at the back made twenty-four gears, and not eleven. Then, when the bus arrived and the guy made a fuss about carrying my humble machine, the little dude took me back to the booth and sorted them out for me, so I hereby name him Hero of the Trip So Far! I don't know who he belonged to but he gets max respect from me.

Beard status: requiring ever more frequent trimming to avoid looking like Tarzan.
Kilometres counted: none, as the rain temporarily extinguished the Hellcat's diabolical inferno.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/nigelball/tour/1149188040/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/nigelball/tour/1149188040/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/nigelball/tour/1149188040/tpod.html Sat, 10 Jun 2006 21:56:59 -0400 I´m going from Santiago, Chile, over the Andes, through Argentina, to Montevideo, Uruguay, on my own, on a bike. I know what you´re thinking.

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Liebig, Argentina

Liebig was a village built by the English, who opened a massive meat-packing factory here, and if you were alive at any time between the 20s and the 70s, then the chances are you've eaten a can of corned beef that started its life in this very place. I found it bizarre to keep coming across traces of the English in this country where they really had no business (they also built the railways here), but then reflected that it was only a historical equivalent of the American influence that you can find anywhere in the world today (but instead of railways and meat factories, we get 'movies' and Coca Cola). Give it another century or so and the world will probably be Indo-Chinese (or, if you prefer, we can say Sino-Indian).

Though a corned beef and ketchup sandwich on cheap white bread was perhaps my favourite student meal, the giant can of the stuff in the town square was not the best thing in Liebig - that accolade goes to the astonishing Butterfly museum. An 81 year old, one-legged, wheelchair-bound old man personally showed me around his massive collection of amazing butterflies and moths of every colour, pattern, size and shape you can imagine, some metallic, some glow-in-the-dark, and all beaufitul, from every corner of the world, as well as a scary cabinet full of the world's largest (think fist-sized) beetles. Unfortunately photos were not allowed, due to the flash causing fading, so you'll just have to take my word for it.

After that the man showed me round an adjacent room containing his collection of stones - and each stone told a story - and I was to hear the story of each stone, until I could actually feel my beard growing longer. But I shouldn't joke - these too were amazing, plain and ugly on the outside but sliced apart by nature to reveal astonishingly formed insides of vivid colours and patterns. Shaking revealed that some had water or another stone trapped within. It just goes to show what you can find if you bother to stop and look! The old geezer also had some dino fossils and petrified tree trunks (he wasn't a frightening man so it must have been my beard), a snake in formaldehyde and some dried pirhanas.

There was another museum next door, which didn't contain anything of interest, except another good-natured wheelchair bound old man who I entered into conversation with. Meanwhile, his wife brought me a slice of cake and a cup of coca-cola, and upon leaving I felt duty bound to purchase a jar of their home-made jam, at which point as a gift they gave me a box of home-made alfajores and a packet of speciality crisps, so I gave them twice the asking price of the jam. If I was feeling cycnical I'd call this a cunning ploy, but I'm not, so I'm going to call it reciprocal generosity instead.

I continued my journey from Leibig towards Uruguay but getting over the border before dark began to look unlikely, and indeed, I was forced to spend another night in the Colon of two days previously. This, you shall see, proved to be a bad move.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/nigelball/tour/1149203220/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/nigelball/tour/1149203220/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/nigelball/tour/1149203220/tpod.html Sat, 10 Jun 2006 21:54:58 -0400 I´m going from Santiago, Chile, over the Andes, through Argentina, to Montevideo, Uruguay, on my own, on a bike. I know what you´re thinking.

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Parque Nacional El Palmar, Argentina

Unfortunately the road from Colon to the National Park was of the busy, belorried variety, much like the infamous road into Cordoba, although this time, thank goodness, there was an emergency lane to the side of the road for both my convenience and that of truck drivers responding to urgent calls of nature. It wasn't much fun, but at least this time I had a hard shoulder to cry on. (I've been saving that one specially.)

Even though I had to relive the miserable road the next day (in the opposite direction), it was worth it, the reward being this national park, which as the name suggests, has been reserved for its vast population of palm trees. And I do love palm trees. To me, they look like tall, skinny people with funky haircuts, dancing (perhaps I really have been doing too much cycling). Sadly the campsite in the park was full of schoolchildren, and I hate schoolchildren, I'd never become a teacher, to be honest, who would, you'd have to be crazy.

My plan for the next day was to cross into Uruguay, stay there the night and then get the bus to Montevideo, the capital, to meet my relative Pablo.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/nigelball/tour/1149020160/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/nigelball/tour/1149020160/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/nigelball/tour/1149020160/tpod.html Sat, 10 Jun 2006 21:52:04 -0400 I´m going from Santiago, Chile, over the Andes, through Argentina, to Montevideo, Uruguay, on my own, on a bike. I know what you´re thinking.

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Concepcion del Uruguay, Argentina

Although the title of this entry is envocative of 70s B-movie featuring a giant citric monster lumbering over distant hills juicing people with its deadly rind, the story actually begins several weeks ago, with small, cute and harmless caramelitos. These are small toffees and fruity chews displayed according to type in a tapestry of perspex racks in just about every kiosko in the country. I discovered them soon after leaving Mendoza, and came to rely on their sugary lift to get me from one milepost to the next. By the time I reached Cordoba three weeks later, daily consumption had far exceeded that of dulce de leche, and I started to become concerned about the effect on my pearly white dientos: as with the Savoy Truffle of the Lennon/MacCartney masterpiece, these little sweeties might leave me having to have them all pulled out. Around the same sort of time, I had discovered the wide availablity of mandarinas, which as you all know are sweet, juicy, and unlike their eponymous orange cousins, easy peasy lemon squeezy to peel, even with the handicap of gloves. At 10p a kilo, mandarinas become the next caramelitos, and my main motivator as I chewed on the miles was the promise of this juicy reward during my next rest stop. However, today something happened, and I'm not sure I can ever eat another mandarina again.

As usual, the fruit featured highly in my break, although this particular specimen appeared slightly damaged - likely biffed on the nose by some other item of luggage jealous of the profuse attention I bestowed upon its fruity neighbour. I started eating it nonetheless, deciding that it would probably taste much the same, if a little alcoholic. About halfway through, I looked down to decide which segment to scoff next, to notice that my mandarin appeared to be moving. Impossible, I thought, simply the narcotic effect of excessive exercise. But no, further investigation revealed that sure enough, some tiny, tubuloid lump of slime with a frantically probing proboscis was wriggling its way through my sacred snack. Now, at this juncture, many people would throw up, and I feel that as spontaneous reflexes go, this is probably quite a useful one - more so than yawning, say - as it gets any of the little things that have already helterskeltered into one's belly back out again just as quickly. However, I'm a big girl's blouse when it comes to vomiting, and I neither felt the urge to do so, nor could bring myself to induce such a reaction manually. Instead, I sent up a quick prayer that the little blighters were either scissored in twain during my brief mastication, or were ambushed by the melange of acid waiting for them in my stomach. I certainly hadn't read anywhere in any of the travel literature that intestinal worms live in fruit - more likely some maggot of some description. Perhaps I would even be able to digest them and gain some sort of dietary benefit from the rare and unusual proteins contained within. However, an acorn of doubt was lingering, in that way that doubts have an irritating habit of doing, and we all know what happens to acorns, don't we? Perhaps these slugettes from the land of satsuma were already up to something down there, plotting and scheming, poring over maps of my intestines to coordinate their assault while announcing a shrill call to arms for all the other parasites and nasties laying dormant in my belly, waiting for their hour of glory. I bet there's still a few of those old gas-producers around. I'm doomed - they're going to join forces and commit me to a lifetime on the toilet.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/nigelball/tour/1149022980/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/nigelball/tour/1149022980/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/nigelball/tour/1149022980/tpod.html Wed, 07 Jun 2006 18:41:36 -0400 I´m going from Santiago, Chile, over the Andes, through Argentina, to Montevideo, Uruguay, on my own, on a bike. I know what you´re thinking.

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Colon, Argentina

Aha, he's recycling the bad-taste joke made during the attack of diarrhoea a couple of weeks back, you're thinking, and therefore indicating that those creepy-crawlies in the satsuma weren't so innocent after all! And yet again, behold the cruel irony of the town's name, what more apt place to suffer an intestinal disease than Colon? But in fact, you're thinking wrong. This time it really did pour - from the sky, no less! Having had a remarkably dry six weeks, by any account, the rain finally came a couple of days into week seven. I pulled into Colon around lunchtime and stopped in a little cafe, to give myself an opportunity to digest the myriad information bestowed upon me by the alarmingly eager tourist office. Having gobbled up my main course, I politely declined postre, not wanting to seem greedy, and made my way outside to hear rumbles of thunder not actually very far away. Finding a place to stay suddenly became very urgent indeed - would I make it? Fortunately the first place I encountered was entirely suitable and I avoided getting well and truly peed on by seconds. What if I had decided to have pudding? I had been teetering, it could have gone either way. I have clearly used up all my luck in one hit and doomed myself to a damp conclusion to my trip.

I was not entirely confident about this town not only because of its name, but also because of the cover of its toursist brouchure, which features a happyholidaying family under the dubious dominion of a flabby and dangerously topless father. As you can imagine (or perhaps you'd rather not), it therefore completely fails to conjure the impression of a savvy and glamourous toursist destination. But perhaps that's not the look they were going for. Either way, I feel I ought to warn them that they are at dire risk of alienating - nay, repelling - many potential visitors.

In the evening, I decided I had to try some of the much touted thermal hot-springs that seemed to litter the province across which I was currently pedalling, so I took myself out in the rain and hunted them down. Strange how if you build a funny-shaped swimming pool, suddenly it contains naturally heated water pumped from 1500m below the ground that has health-giving properties owing to the coctail of vitamins and minerals dissolved within. In reality, they weren't even very hot, although perhaps judging thermal hot springs on a wet and windy dark evening is a little unfair.
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