Londres

Y por fín llegamos a Londres, después de un rollo patatero de vuelo. Pillamos la "huelga" de los controladores aereos españoles en la escala a Sao Paolo, asi que el vuelo se retraso un par de horas mientras  re-organizaban la ruta para evitar la zona aerea española... lo dicho, un rollo.

Al llegar al aeropuerto nos encontramos con un frío polar. Luís y yo íbamos nuevamente vestidos como cebollas... no así Barry, el frío no va con él y no vió la necesidad de cambiar las chanclas por zapatos hasta que estuvo en el taxi.

Finalmente llegamos a casa. El piso se lo alquilamos a una familia supermaja con dos niños de 2 y 4 años, que necesitaban una sitio temporalmente mientras se terminaban las obras en la casa que se habían comprado aquí aladito. En la puerta teníamos unos carteles de bienvenida que nos hicieron Daniel, nuestro vecino de arriba de dos años y su mamá, Tania. Y el piso estaba impecable. Pasamos el día como zombies, "mudándonos de vuelta", metiendo ropa en cajones... y por qué nó, también contentos de volver a casa, a nuestra cocina (por favor, pescado, verduras!) a nuestro barrio, con nuestros amigos... y sí, con frío pero también con un ambientillo navideño prestoso. Y a pesar de la super nevada que cayó, el coche arrancó a la primera!

Luís se re-encontró con sus juguetes con el entusiasmo de un día de Reyes y estaba felíz de volver a ver a sus amigos, Hannah y Daniel, y de volver a sus rutinas (menos la de la hora de ir dormir.. esa no le entusiasma tanto... dos meses de dormir con papi y mami).

Hoy es miércoles y ya llevamos tres dias de vuelta al trabajo. La verdad es que contentos por tener un trabajo que nos gusta al que volver, y con el super regusto del viaje y el tiempo que hemos pasado juntos.

Muchas gracias por haber seguido nuestro blog, y muchas gracias a todos los que enviásteis mensajes alentadores, la verdad es que a veces daba un poco de pereza escribir, pero mereció la pena.

Yo sólo espero que cuando Luís pueda leer, ésto le ayude a recordar los días en la playa, los niños, las chicas, el zuco de abacaxi, las duchas muu grandes (cataratas de Iguazu), los paseos en barco, los túneles, los viajes en autobús, las montañas coloradas, los alfajores, los chuletones de vaca-múú... y lo muchísimo que sus padres disfrutaron de este tiempo con él.

Y colorín colorado, este cuento se ha acabado!

Tigre, Grrrrreeeeaaaaat!

On arrival in Buenos Aires, we trudged to the train station and got a train back out to Tigre, another kind of summer town one hour outside of BA. It sits on the coast by the Delta, where the Rio de La Plata and other rivers converge before heading out along the estuary to the South Atlantic. Having a fleeting glimpse of BA again was another reminder that we'd be heading home soon, ah well, that time was always going to arrive. We arrived via the train that runs along the coast, the scenic, bloody expensive one as opposed to the regular service inland a bit. We knew our guesthouse wasn't far from the station, but it was further than we thought, and there were no signs of taxis so we carried on, eventually getting there. But, they hadn't taken our reservation and they were fully booked so, eh, bugger. We had strong suspicions that the mother of the owner had forgotten to note down our details when Maria had spoken to her on the phone, but what can you say. To be fair, they phoned a couple of places they knew and sure enough, there was a room at the house of someone they knew. We hopped in a taxi and were there in no time, and well, the house was great, it had a pool, which our guest room opened out onto, so I doubt if that first place would have been as good anyway!

Our host, Pillar, kindly gave us tips on what to do, so after some relaxation time, we headed out to the old fruit market which has loads of shops and stalls with all sorts of stuff, just grand for a browse and a rummage. It was hot that day, hotter than I remember it being on this trip for a long time, ala Brazil, so we were conscious of staying covered as much as possible. The boat tours of the Delta also ran from around here so we booked one for 5pm. We grabbed some snacks, sat down for a bit to relax and were soon on that boat. It was touristy, obviously, but often these tours are the best way to see things, and it wasn't that expensive. The stilt houses were pretty amazing, I don't think we were expecting them to be as cool. These houses could only be reached by boat, so each house had its own jetty, which many had chosen to personalise as it was effectively the front door to their property. I guess there were shops dotted around there otherwise popping out for some milk would be a bit of a niggle.

Our work done, we walked all the way back to the house, yearning for a beer, but there wasn't an appropriate opportunity, so we bought a large, cold bottle of Quilmes (Argentine lager), a large bag of crisps and headed back for a dip in the pool. Luis was still developing his swimming and is getting more confident by the day, his legs kick ten to the dozen and one day I'm sure he'll be a grand swimmer. Pillar also gave us a recommendation for dinner and boy was she spot on! We kicked off with a glass of champagne and some empanadas, then followed with a slab of succulent beef, fries and salad and a bottle of Malbec, grreeeeat. Luis was as well behaved as ever, as good as gold, and scoffed his fair share of vaca 'moo' and patas.

We headed home to bed, Luis hyper as he had his own bed for the night, and that was our penultimate night of the trip. In the morning, we had a nice breakfast with Pillar and her husband Andres, who could pass for the late Oliver Reed, packed up and took a taxi to the train station. Back in Buenos Aires it was raining, a real stinker of a morning, but another taxi ride later and we were outside our last guesthouse, just a few minutes walk from the apartment we had stayed in 3 weeks earlier. The rain soon cleared and blue skies returned overhead so we headed out for lunch to La Lechuza, almost next door (Lechuza = hoolit/owl) and devoured a gorgeous Matambre de Cerdo (glorious cut of pork). We decided against going over the other side of BA to La Boca, instead opting for a pleasant stroll around the famous cemetery in Recoleta. There are many Argentinian dignitaries buried there, but probably none more famous than Eva Peron, 'Evita'. The stroll in the heat merited an ice cream, one last ice cream, so winking at us from across the street was a branch of Freddos. Maria had her staple lemon sorbet, this time covered in that chocolate that hardens, and I my old favourites of Dulce de Leche and chocolate, this time joined by strawberry. Luis invariably ends up preferring whatever I have, can't think why, and now was no different......

Bye bye ice cream, hope, sniff, to see, sniff, you.....soooooon! Waaaaahhhhh! We had a couple of bits and bobs to buy on the way home, souvenirs, gifts etc, then home we went. We were running out of time to have a dip in the pool, but we managed it, just. Our final dinner was again next door at La Lechuza, and with Riccardo, our friend, who was also celebrating a new job. For the record, it was beef this time, well, it had to be, and it didn't disappoint. The usual trimmings, including dessert, completed the meal, and with Luis fast asleep in his buggy, we said goodbye to Riccardo and stumbled next door to bed. The house was hosting a party for the owner's 94-yr old mother, who was a little deaf, so everyone seemed to be shouting! Luckily, we were right at the top of the house. We did some packing, having been reunited with our other bag, and hit the hay.

Our breakfast the next morning was a belter, beautifully prepared outside by the pool, and was by far the best breakfast we'd had since leaving Brazil. That just left us to finish packing, book a taxi to the airport and get ready to go. Luis managed to put a couple of his toy cars down one of the bed legs, trust him (!) but we managed to scoop them out using a coathanger. And that was pretty much it, I suppose we were ready but it's only natural you're going to be a bit down, reminiscing of all that we'd done, sigh.......!

Buenos Aires, Malas Leches

Despertamos en el autobús a Buenos Aires con Luís pidiendo “I want alfajores” y llegamos a la estación Retiro a eso de las 7 de la mañana donde directamente cogimos el tren a Mitre y luego el tren de la Costa con direccion al delta de Tigre (a apenas una hora de Buenos Aires).

Durmiendo con papi en el bus

 
La llegada a Tigre fué un rollo… no encontramos taxis y al final decidimos caminar al bed and breakfast que habíamos alquilado. O eso creíamos nosotros. Al llegar al sitio, exahustos, nos dijeron… huy, que raro, no encontramos su reserva y tenemos todas las habitaciones llenas. Tras unos momentos de tendencia homicida hacia la pobre abuela, que yo estaba segura, era con quien habia echo la reserva por teléfono, nos facturaron en un taxi hacia otro bed and breakfast. Lo bueno del nuevo sitio era que teniamos una habitacion muy mona que daba directamente a la piscina… lo malo es que nos separaba por una puerta corredera de plástico con la cocina, así que de intimidad teniamos cero patatero, sobretodo porque Luis se la paso arrancándo dicha puerta corredera. 

Chu-Chu tren a Tigre

Pero la poca intimidad era compesada por la entrega total de la señora de la casa, que se paso la estancia cuidádonos, fumigando la habitación, y contándome su vida como si fuese su sobrina.

Y Tigre nos encantó. Tras un baño reparador en la piscina, nos fuimos al mercado de frutos de donde partimos en una excursión en barquito por los riachuelos del delta del río Paraná. Si yo viviese en Buenos Aires (algo hipotéticamente improbable) directamente viviría en una de estas casitas del delta, a las que sólo se puede acceder por barco… vimos casas preciosas, del estilo de La casa de la pradera… supermonas.

En el Delta de Tigre

Casitas del Delta

Y bueno, siendo como era nuestra penúltima noche en Argentina y por aquello de seguir con nuestro proyecto de extinción de la vaca argentina, nos fuimos a una parrilla a cenar y nos metimos un rico bife de chorizo estupendo (chuletón) entre pecho y espalda.

A la mañana siguiente, desayunamos y salimos directamente para Buenos Aires ciudad, al bed and breakfast de la señora que nos habia alquilado el pisito anteriortmente. La estancia en casa de la señora, que por aquello del anónimato llamaremos Mafalda es digno de contar. El bed and breakfast en sí no era otra cosa que su casa, un caserón antiguo en Palermo Viejo, en donde vive sola, parcialmente acompañada por el servicio, dos gatos y un perro anciano con signos de incontinencia. Cuando digo servicio me refiero a la criada de uniforme a lo antiguo, que la atendía hasta el punto de traerle las gafas y su bolso cuando salía de casa. Mafalda parecía encantada con nosotros en la casa, yo creo que en parte porque erró al ubicarnos en la escala social… “bueno María pues me dais vuestros datos y si vamos a Londres vosotros alquilais pisos en Londres no?”… “er bueno si, alquilamos nuestro piso mientras estabamos de viaje, ahora como no lo alquilemos en regimen de cama caliente…”  A una de estas que estaba de cháchara con Mafalda ví que tenía una felicitación navideña de Máxima Zoguerrieta con toda la familia real firmada de puño y letra, y le pregunté por ella. Mafalda corrió a contarme que Máxima era íntima amiga de su hija, y que su marido y ella eran íntimos de los padres de Máxima y habían sido invitados a su boda en Holanda, pero que de tan indignados que estaban con el trato que dieron al padre de Máxima, pues decidieron no ir. Como buena lectora ocasional del Hola, yo me sabía la historia del padre de Máxima, al que el parlamento holandés vetó la asistencia a la boda porque en lineas generales, parece ser un militar con un pasado de afiliaciones chungas. En este momento me dí cuenta que no sería una casa en la que escucharía a Sabina y que mejor no contar de mi asistencia a las manifas en contra de Pinochet cuando le arrestaron en el hospital en Londres.

Pero políticas a parte, la casa estaba genial, la habitación monisima (con cuna, así que al menos en nuestra última noche no nos tocaría dormir como sardinas) y el jardín con piscina estaba guay.

Y salimos en nuestra última tarde a visitar el cementerio de la Recoleta, que es muy bonito y que merece la pena aunque sólo sea porque parecen ser las únicas aceras de Buenos Aires libres de caca de perro. Finalmente vimos la famosa tumba de Evita, la de Alfonsín, y un montón de personajes ilustres más (incluido el padre de Mafalda).

Evita

Nuevamente, en Buenos Aires nos encontramos las malas leches ya familiares y la sonrisa no ya esquiva, sino que ni con cosquillas la gente parece sonreir (bueno hombre, siempre hay excepciones). Pero esta vez yo ya no venía de Bahia con buen rollito. Esta vez yo estaba cansada y deprimida porque se acababa el viaje. Así que tuve un enfrentamiento con un conductor de autobús super borde y paraba los coches al cruzar como si fuese un guardia de tráfico (Barry se meaba de risa, decía que solo me faltaba el silbato).

Y entre tumbas, compra de alfajores de última hora y zambullones en la piscina así transcurrió nuestra última tarde en Buenos Aires. Por la noche fuimos a cenar con Ricardo a la lechuza, un bar social (tipo chigre) junto a la casa. Nos encantó ver a Ricardo de nuevo, sobretodo porque estaba celebrando un nuevo trabajo super bueno. Y entre más bifes de chorizo y malbec y demás, nos reimos recordando historias del viaje y curiosidades argentinas, como el fenómeno de la propina en este pais. Aquí te piden propina hasta por darte los buenos dias. Pero mis favoritas son las señoras de los baños, que pueden estar sentadas en banqueta a la entrada del baño más sucio, cutre salchichero, de esos tipo Trainspoting en los que a modo de facilidades solo cuentant con una cisterna de funcionamiento errático y papel higiénico racionado, pero que como no las dejes propina como que te cortan el pis con la mirada. Yo ya lo dije, si me quedo parada me vendre a cualquier ciudad argentina y plantaré una banqueta junto a un baño publico, a hacer sudokus y a vivir.

Ultimo baño en Buenos Aires

Tras la cena volvimos a casa de Mafalda, que tenía cena de cumpleaños con toda la ilustre familia para celebrar el noventayalgo cumpleaños de la abuela. La señora estaba estupenda pero sorda, así que las conversaciones eran de sobrados decibelios. Gracias a Dios a eso de la una de la mañana se acabó el guateque y pudimos dormir tranquilos.

Por la mañana, tras un desayuno opíparo en el jardin y saldar cuentas con Mafalda, que nos cobró una ensaladera de cristal corrientón que le habiamos roto en el piso como si fuese un jarrón de la dinastía Ming, salimos para el Aeropuerto.

En las duty free sufrí uno de los episodios más humillantes de este viaje. Como teniamos 100 pesos (20 euros) de sobra, me fuí a la sección de vinos con mis recientemente adquiridos conocimientos vinicolas (lease, Malbec y Torrontés). El chico de la caja me informó que podía comprar dos botellas por persona y Luis no contaba (sí, pregunté). Allí me encontré con unos pilotos de iberia, ataviados con sus gorras y galones comprando vinos y tuve una entretenida conversación de tú a tú en la que me recomendaron unos ricos tintos. Los símpaticos pilotos se fueron y a la hora de pagar, una vez embalados los vinos, el chico me informa, que no, no son 101 pesos, son 101 dólares. Al final nos dió para un blanco equivalente a Don Simón y dos botellines de agua. Y gracias a Dios que Luis no rompió ninguna botella.

Ahora estamos en el avión, Luis duerme placidamente extendido sobre dos asientos y me voy a ver una peli, antes de hacer escala técnica en Sao Paolo (nos acaban de informar que hay mucho tráfico aereo y que tendremos que esperar y dar vueltas a lo águila hasta que nos dejen aterrizar). Llegaremos a Londres a las 7 de la mañana donde nos espera un taxi, nieve y amigos y esperemos nuestro piso vacio. Y el último post de este blog desde Londres!

Night bus to Buenos Aires

Our 4th and final nightbus journey also meant our 4th bus company, Chevalier (following Cata, Andesmar and Balut, bus fans). I could do ratings and comments for all of them, but won't(!), but Chevalier were good, not the poshest bus, but good food, plenty of it, drinks, and probably best of all, it wasn't a full service so we could could sprawl over as many seats as we liked!

Mina Clavero

Three hours sth west of Cordoba lies Mina Clavero, famous for its rivers with a mixture of sandy and rocky river banks, perfect for bathing, or, if you're that way inclined, paddling. The bus climbed up and through the Valley of the Condors, famous for, aye, you guessed it. The weather changed over this way, for the worse, and Maria, with her deep rooted fear of the cold, dug into her rucksack to see what clothes she could find - she ended up with a rather entertaining ensemble shall we say. Mina Clavero looked nice though, as did our hostel, unlike anything we'd come across before. The owners, Mika and Virginia, had bought the land and built their home/hostel on it, with their living area upstairs and the hostel downstairs. There was loads of space, not least as apart from one girl, we were the only ones staying there! This place (Ooh La La Hostel) was also a recommendation from Francisca and Thomas, the swiss couple, who had stayed there on their travels. One of the best things though was that Mika and Virginia had a 2 yr old son called Enzo, so he and Luis were soon haring round the place, and that didn't let up the entire time we were there!

After a while we went for a walk around the town, and it was nice, but very quiet. This is a summer place, where people flock to for the rivers and hills, but it was eerily quiet at times, bit like Bosels, where I'm frae. They had a cracking ice cream shop though, and boy it was cheap compared to other places in Argentina. £5 would have got you a bucket. There was a wee amusement park with kiddies rides and things so Luis burned rubber for an hour, which included some kind of kamikaze leap into the ball pool - the look on the female attendant's face was priceless. Luis was of course fine, and laughed hysterically!

The next day we decided to check out this museum in a nearby town called No No, although we found out it was 5km outside No No, and trying to track down a taxi to get there proved impossible. So, we bought some fresh empanadas, and headed down to the river for a picnic, nice. When we got back to Mina Clavero, we headed straight to the river to have a paddle and relax for a bit. We even had a quick dip in the hostel pool, although I had to stop my first length short as I was coming face-to-face with a toad who was sat in the filter vent! They're harmless I'm sure, but he was looking at me funny. Luis and I had the male bathrooms to ourselves in the hostel, so we had a choice of showers and loos, oh the luxury. We returned to the river the next day as well, and Mika, Virginia and Enzo joined us for a bit which was a nice to way to round off as we were taking our 4th and final overnight bus journey back to Buenos Aires that night. Luis and Enzo had had a great time, and both were sad to say goodbye, and so were we, not least as we were getting closer to home time....

Cordoba

Argentina's 2nd biggest city, but we're only here for one night, opting instead to head for the hills of Mina Clavero, 3 hours outside. We got a taxi to the hostel, yep, still hostelling, which was fairly central, and it was your average hostel, old building, plenty of backpackers, nice people and a lovely dog (called Jujuy oddly enough, where we'd just come from) who took a shine to Luis and proceeded to follow him everywhere. It was shared bathroom time folks, they were fine, but there were only 3 bathrooms, 2 of those had showers, so timing was everything if you know what I mean.

We had a recommendation for lunch from the folks we met from Navarra. We headed there and ordered a milanesa and some sorrentinos (pasta). The milanesa was enormous, overhanging the plate on both sides. Maria nicknamed it 'the bedsheet'. Needless to say we were stuffed by the end of it. We wandered around, taking in some of the Jesuit buildings, shopping areas, main plaza and to a plaza which had a cool market, but which we found out didn't start until 5-6pm, great. We were a bit knackered after the night journey and the walking we'd done already so headed back to the hostel to chill for a bit.

When we emerged again out into the night, we took a taxi to that same area where the market was and searched for this place that was famed for its empanadas. If you've been reading closely, you'll notice we haven't exactly had what you'd call a varied, well balanced diet in Argentina. With the red meat and wine, we're bound to get gout. Maria's dad is already worried about this as he suffers from gout and hearing our stories of what we've been eating and drinking has probably been some kind of torture for him! The empanadas were good though.

Back to the hostel and Jujuy the dog continues his role as Luis' shadow, following him everywhere, very sweet. We had got a sighting of what the breakfast would be like in the morning when we arrived, so the next morning, Maria popped out and bought some croissants and orange juice, wise move.

And that was Cordoba, short and sweet. We never planned to spend more time there, not after learning about Mina Clavero, so off to the bus station we went, hopped on a bus, and departed, nothing personal Cordoba, es lo que hay!

Night bus to Cordoba

Another night bus journey, another company, this time Balut (beautiful name). It was the full on suite class this time, fully reclining seats, individual TVs, dinner, breakfast, the works. Nowt significant happened, we slept pretty well, so we'll leave it there!