Trip Start Apr 05, 2008
Trip End Jul 19, 2008

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Flag of Argentina  ,
Thursday, April 17, 2008

Chapter I - Almost alone

Leaves of a million, rich browns overwhel mthe stones of a Mendoza street. An aggressive gust of wind, chilled by the threatening winter, invades, coercing greener foliage in the trees above to part from their branches and to allow themselves to be swpet away to the Plaza of Independance. The air fills with the rustle of this battle - ther is always a resistor. Otherwise, all is quiet this Mendoza Sunday. The streets bear no cars, as if prohibited on this day of rest. Humans, too, are scare, the precise reason a mystery - religion or hangover? There are but two that dare to venture out this morning - and the city is theirs. They sing and dance, joke and laugh, the elegant walks around the city encouraging this ridiculous behaviour. And then, at times, there is silence. Or a quiet rustle. Mendoza is empty. And beautiful. And brilliant...

Chapter II - On the side of the country...

Bikes and wine is a ridiculous concept. Outright stupid. Certain to lead to death. An idea that, even if pondered briefly, leads one to laugh at the foolishness of it. Bikes and wine? Clearly mad. Somehow, despite having considered the concept and reached the above conclusion, we found ourselves in the Mendoza wilderness, our bikes topplied over beneath the Andean foothills, full and wavering due to a cocktail of rick, red wine, arousing blends of chocolate, the largest hamburger in the entire world and the most deadly shot of absinthe brewed by some dude in his backyard. The blame lays squarely at the feet of the wine tasting woman of the devil of the death from hell. Her contribution? 6 forcibly consumed glasses of wine within 15 minutes. Killing us. Bikes and wines. Ridiculous. Outright stupid. I recommend it to everyone...

Chapter III - Pare...

I cannot say that Mendoza is exciting. Itīs gorgeous, especially in all its Autumnal beauty. Itīs cultrued - the cityīs wine comunity attracting an interesting and creative group - the chocolate makers in particular deciding that Mendoza would be the perfect place to create heaven in my girlfriendīs eyes. Mendoza, however, is no exciting. No. Rather, it is a romantic destination, indulgence being central to oneīs enjoyment of the place; a place to wanter beneath the withering leaves and soothing cobblestones, a place to allow the wind to batter the windows whilst you seal yourself inside with a book; a place to spend time. Indeed, time in Mendoza is well spend...

Chapter III - Rover

This entry would not be complete without a manky dog rant. Indeed, the manky dog rant has become one of my favourite things in the entire world - up there with football, music and brown paper packages tied up with string. Now, as pointed out in the last entry, manky dogs come in all shapes and sizes. 3 legged manky dogs. Balsphemous manky dogs. Dogs that follow you everywhere. Exceptionally smelly manky dogs. Dogs wrapped in bacon. Iīm so used to manky dogs now that nothing manky dog related shocks me anymore. Iīm ready for anything. At ground level that is. However, the Argentinean manky dog is a new proposition. They attack from the air. Do you know what they do here? They put them on the roof. So, as you enjoy the atmospheric streets of Mendoza, contemplating life and other related wanky concepts (such as another word that rhymes with pie), a manky dogs attacks from the skies, world war 2 style, threatening to make the 3 metre jump in order to dominate your non-manky human ass. Barking of the devil of the death booming through the street. Killing me. Manky dog rant over...

Chapter IV - Top 5

And so to the Top 5. Being back in Argentina is really quite a wonderful feeling. Something about this place, about being in this country, is so entirely comforting despite my still quite incompetent spanish. But thereīs still a lot of things to get used to. Shit here is so different, even to Chile. Here are the top 5 things to adjust to in Argentina:

5. Booze is ridiculously cheap. That is not good for me. Bottle of decent wine? $1.50. 1 Litre bottle of beer? 90c. Booze prices? Killing me. In a good way. But in a bad way.

4. Hot dogs everywhere. And fucking cheap. And brilliant. My urge to eat hot dogs? Constant. What do I need to do? Stop eating them. Why? Because Djana wonīt let me. Must adjust...

3. Living hours. Whatīs up with the fucked up hours they keep here? Breakfast = normal. Well, almost. Anywhere up until about 11am. Somewhere between breakfast and lunch, some of them work. What time is lunch? About 3pm. Ok. But donīt forget to throw in a seista in there. So letīs close everything between 1pm and 5pm. Do it... And letīs only do dinner at about 10pm. Ok? Youīre hungry before that? Suck it up chino. Deal with it. You ain't in Beijing no more. But Iīm hungry now...

2. The chicks here are pretty hot. Way hotter than Chile. Chile = not so hot. Thing that I have to get used? Not looking at hot chicks. Not even a glance. Not my fault. Otherwise, Í'll be in big trouble from La Chica...

1. The chicks here are pretty hot. Way hotter than Chile. Argentinean chicks = pretty hot. My problem. It's hard not to have a glance. Not my fault. THing that I have to get used to - getting in constant trouble from la chica. It's not my fault...

Returning to a love. Buenos Aires it up...
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