Not terribly much happening over the last 24 hours.  Went to dinner last night, and ate some delicious “Little Goat”, accompanied by a bottle of red wine.  Now I believe I told him I wanted a small one (thinking I would get a glass), but received a normal 750ml bottle.  Am intrigued as to what a big one is.

Afterwards, went to the Irish Pub (called, “Irish Pub”) – to see if there was a faint chance of them playing the NZ-England cricket game.  Got there, realised nobody spoke the Inglis, and had a bottle of beer by myself.  Got home at 2am, and discovered that I was the first in my hostel room (of 8), if not the entire hostel.

An interesting situation at about 4am when three girls came home, one wearing a very short skirt, and spent some time standing in front of my bunk trying to close the window.  I was sleeping, or pretending to be, on the bottom bunk – trying not to be too much of a pervert.   Similar situation this morning, when they got up to leave.

Anyway – I guess the big invisible guy who lives in the sky thought that I hadn´t closed my eyes quickly enough, or for long enough, and it was raining when I got up.  I had, however, decided to leave (sick of the debauchery).  I underestimated the argentinean rain though.  Used to NZ, I was expecting it to only last a while – as it didn´t seem heavy.  I was drenched in 10 minutes, as it was deceptively heavy.  I stopped, had breakfast, and tried to figure out what to do.

Plan:  try to find pub playing cricket.  If can´t, go to hostel with free wine – see if they´ve got any vacancies today.  If not, go to bus station – and get out of town.

Irish Pub was closed as I walked past.  Went to the hostel which advertises having free wine.  Told they were full, and door shut in my face by worker.  Owner came out, and apologised.  Invited me in to dry off.  Seemed bemused about my plan.  Told me of a pub called “Pub Liverpool”.  I kinda backtracked a bit to go there.  Sure enough, an english-styled pub.  But nobody who speaks the Inglis, and I wasn´t about to try to demonstrate “Cricket”.

To bus station.  Very very wet.  Bought a ticket to Malargue, supposed to have some awesome scenery about, and then an irish coffee.  Caught my bus, and drove through some very large plains.  Watched Pearl Harbour on the telly, with only sound effects, music, and spanish sub-titles.  Possibly the best way I could imagine seeing it, other than not at all.

Am in Malargue now – have walked around hostels, on dusty streets.  Nobody speaks Inglis.  One hostel was quite some distance from town, down dirt tracks.  Another was closed.  Gonna go back to my original place I visited, where the guy had never heard of internet.  And no Inglis.  Gonna be great fun.  Tomorrow I find out how difficult it is to organise tours to the various sights (apparently need tours/guides to do them)  with my espanol which is turning out to be more harm than good.  Ask a question, they usually understand, but I assume that I´ll be able to understand their long-winded answer.  A real problem.

Listened to a few more lessons on the bus here.  Most of which revolved around modifying what I already know to be able to refer to “us” rather than “me”.  Made me a little lonely.  But don´t cry for me Argentina, I´ll be alright.  (Like that?)

Right – I´d best be off.  Have discovered the cricket score.  Good work the lads.  Now I´ll see if my hostel is still available – or if the guy has got into his pickup and gone wildlife shootin´.  He seems like that kind of guy.  A lot of people here do.

Crossed the border into Argentina last night. Seven hour bus journey. Border crossing at high altitude. And the instant I had my passport stamped saying I was in Argentina – the attractiveness of people skyrocketed. No kidding – I didn´t see a single attractive person in Chile. In Argentina – my initial impression that every single woman was beautiful. Today, in the light of day, that may have been a little hasty, but not terribly far off the mark.
On the bus coming into Argentina, the attendant chap suddenly pulled all the curtains. Through a girl translating for her american friend – I learnt that this was because we were coming into a bad neighbourhood – where people regularly throw rocks at buses if they can see the lights inside. Charming.
I made the mistake of sleeping a lot on the bus – so after arrival in Mendoza, despite walking a zigzag the full width of the town – I was fairly awake. Next thing I know, it´s six o´clock in the morn, and I´m just bringing a rather stilted conversation with a german (with little english) to an end. Therefore – hungover today. Have wandered around a little. Ate about 6 mouthfuls of a steak. And slept all afternoon in an hammock.
Other news:
- strange bruise-graze on my forehead. I think I smashed my head into a bunk in Chile – but the memory is too hazy to be sure.
- Rutger Hauer starred in a strange prison escape movie on the bus. Half the people managed to escape, the other half died. 50% is a pass rate, I guess.
- In response to Nat´s question regarding beer. In Chile a 1 litre bottle of beer cost me the same as a 1.5 litre bottle of tonic water. It was a true moral dilemma. Do I throw the duty-free gin away? Or buy tonic water, with the same amount of money that could buy a beer. Buying water for the same price as beer strikes me as abhorrent – but after some quick maths, I gritted my teeth and did it. That was 1,000 chilean pesos. About NZ$2.67. In Argentina, about 5 pesos. About the same, according to xe.com. I´ve been going under the vague memory that the Argentinean peso was about the same as the NZ$. Now, I´ve suddenly realised that everything is a hell of a lot cheaper than I thought it was. I was distraught at paying $25 for a hostel. And thought that the extremely tasteful restaurant with $25 steaks, and rabbits, and trout was perhaps not for splurging on this early.
- Haven´t tried any wine yet. That may be for tonight.

Well – I arrived in Santiago.  After farewelling Pen at the airport, I got on my plane, and survived a rather tiring trip.  No attractive stewardesses.  Middle seat, so sitting there for ages wanting a drink, but not wanting to disturb sleeping neighbours.  And very little sleep.

Arrived in Santiago though - and managed to talk my way through the airport.  Everybody in the airport speaks Inglis.  Nobody outside the airport does.  But I managed to bluff my way onto a bus, and then walked through town, and found my way to the hostel. And immediately bought a 1 litre bottle of beer.  The heat here hit me straight off the plane, much like that in China.

Hostel is being renovated or something – so has a guy constantly sanding stuff.  No early rest for me.  And lots of breathing in dust. 

But must go, see some more stuff, so maybe I can leave here tomorrow.  Internet here is ridiculously slow also.

 update: discovered my hostel has a pool area.  Quite a nice one, with a bar.  Maybe it’s not so bad.  Went for a walk this afternoon anyway – found a famous plaza.  Took photos.  Found the central market - chose random hawker to believe his crap and eat at his place.  Seafood.  The mussels looked like they’d been through hell.  Shells completely black, and some blistered – and the insides to match.

 Am in internet cafe now.  These people seem to speak a different language – and have therefore got Windows & their keyboards set up as such.  Weirdos.