Wish's travel logs
Tue 22/06/2004:
Today is flag day in Argentina. I haven´t seen any more flags flying than usual however, and I´m not sure of the nature of this holiday. Maybe it´s more of a "shall we work today? Nah, let´s flag" kind of a day. Either way, it´s my last in South America, and therefore a suitable time to reflect on the last couple of weeks.
One of those weeks was spent in Peru. Peru is Lilliput. If you are at all sensitive about being short, move to Peru. If you are tall but would like to shrink a bit, move to Peru. I lost inches in my two weeks there I am sure, simply as a consequence of the need to contort to fit into anything, be it a bed, tent, doorway or bus.
The best English spoken in Cusco, the ancient Incan capital and longest continually inhabited city on the continent (thanks Mr Guidebook), is from the young children who try to sell you anything from chocolate to cigarettes at all hours of the day and night. And despite (or perhaps courtesy of) the armed police everywhere, it appears easier to buy cocaine in Cusco than it is to find a decent coffee. Being at altitude, it is preferable to do not very much in the sun than rush about achieving, so that was the nature of my second Peruvian week.
I am also continuing to collect stories I can never tell my little sister. She is an arachnophobe, so the spider stories are out. She also had pet guinea pigs as a child, so I imagine my last lunch in Peru will also have to remain a secret. It tastes like chicken, as does everything else, is full of small bones, and the wee claws are a bit disconcerting.
Buenos Aires, on the other hand, is a good place to feel small, with more than 3 times the population of New Zealand in one place and the widest street in the world (22 lanes of jay-walker´s peril). Leather is very cheap here, but I haven´t yet seen corresponding signs of a thriving bondage industry. Perhaps it´s just that I am moving in the wrong circles.
The 1980´s revival, apparent throughout South America in music, is very conspicuous in Argentina, where the mullet has kept a stranglehold on hair fashion. Sunglasses in nightclubs are also the thing, those two items not normally having much to do with each other, as should be apparent from their respective names.
Obliging my tourist status, during the week I sat on a bus for a grand total of 34 hours to look at a sizeable volume of water plummeting off a cliff. Suitable (and genuine) ooohs and aaahs were emitted at appropriate moments.
And so 5 short weeks in South America come to their conclusion. For those doubters amongst you (you know who you are), I have managed to hang on to all my belongings, despite an unsuccessful pickpocketing (or pickbagging really) attempt in Chile, the theft of the dregs of a bottle of insect repellant in Peru, and being sprayed with some foul smelling stuff in Buenos Aires by a couple who then tried (unsuccessfully) to relieve me of my stuff as they ´helped´clean up. And I can now order more food and more varieties of beer, and can compliment the meal with a greater variety of Spanish phrases.
And Paddington? I think 3-4 weeks of ginger growth is the optimum length, and now being past the 5 week mark sophistication is giving way to the bushman thing. You know that thing. However that hasn´t shaken my resolve to push on into the Eurpoean summer.
Next stop France. Ciao South America, Bonjour Europe!
Wish
Fri 6/08/2004
If you think of time as a fourth dimension, it has been about six metres since I last wrote to you all, which is too long.
After leaving South America, a place to which I would love to return, I set about diluting all my newly-acquired Spanish with equal portions of French and Italian. Having no plans for a couple of weeks before meeting up with family in the south of France, I spent a couple of weeks in Italy with an old friend.
Europe, it appears, is full of Americans, who seem to see the world through similes. Like, totally. Europe is also full of cliches and bad puns. Or at least I have been more full of them. Have commented many times that Nice is nice (which it is), have done the can-can with a can in Cannes, wandered around Venice pretending to be a local who could not see (work that one out), followed my inclinations in Pisa, followed local custom in Rome, and ventured out after dark in Florence in a strong wind (10 points for that one). All of which was much fun.
After all the hectic relaxation of Italy, we decommissioned adrenalin glands completely by meeting up with my parents and a sister and a brother-in-law in a house in the countryside of the South of France. The most hectic endeavours included strolling into the nearest town, a hill-top medieval village called Menerbes, or driving on the wrong side of the road (or the right side, which is as confusing linguistically as it is in practise) into Avignon, a vibrant walled city in which there happened to be an arts festival at the time.
From there it was on to London, Cambridge (for a wedding), Oxford (to hang with my sister and brother-in-law before their departure to Yemen. Really? Yeah Man. Oh dear that's a bad one), and back to London, in which I have so far mostly been a tourist and catcher upper with friends.
For those of you awaiting news of Paddington Beard, please close your eyes for the next few lines. Paddington, in all his magnificent ginger glory, is no more. After two months of rampant growth, he was becoming something of a liability at meal times, and he was put to rest in France. Photos are available on request.
If any of you are considering beardedness, I can wholeheartedly recommend it. The benefits of a slow, thoughtful stroke of one's hairy chin does wonders for the ability to assume pondiferous poses, and you can save money on sunscreen. And the added benefits of a beard as red as Paddington was is that you regularly stop traffic.
OK, my next instalment will either be entitled "Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to work I go" or "Adventures in Scotland". Everything except my bank account hopes it will be the latter. And as always, it would be great to hear what you are up to.
Wish