A sad departure from England, a near miss with the ticket, seeing the lights of Southern England below, then sea, sea and blackness and blackness - until my first view of South America, and my adventures start in the city of Buenos Aries......

Flying into San Palo - the first place to land after leaving Heathrow.
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I suppose the trip really started when I left Karen’s house for the airport – it was not an easy first part of the voyage, as I was going to my cousin Anne’s funeral en route. I was glad that the timings allowed me to attend, it had been a shock to learn that she had had cancer and the thought of her suffering and thoughts of how it must have been for all the family would have haunted me far more had I not been able to go to the funeral and help put her to rest and show support for Peter and the rest of the family. Although a strange start to my travels it was a really moving affair and I was so pleased to have been there.

Me on my private balcony at the hostel - in the SUNSHINE!!!
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Just before I left for the funeral, I had had a phone call from the travel agents. I hadn’t collected my round the world ticket! But I’d been told it was electronic? NO, that had been a mistake and it was still in the office in Woking – well how FORTUNATE that I had to pass through Woking and connect with the bus to Heathrow there. And the manager of Flight Centre met me at the bus stop and put the ticket in my hand. IF I hadn’t gone to the funeral and IF I hadn’t had a lift to Woking from Mary & Hans – well it would have been hassle at Heathrow I expect. Which it wasn’t, got in the right queues got on the right plane, got a window seat, flew over Swindon I think (the magic roundabouts at night from above)………….then sea, sea and blackness and blackness and settling down to Pirates of the Caribbean and sleeping.

A homage to Mariana Siroto - the ladys friend, who 'disappeared' during the oppressive years.
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Don’t know what time zone we were in but we touched down at San Palo and many passengers left, the cleaners cleaned and I got talking to the young man in the isle seat – a really chatty young Chilean guy who was returning from a year working at a hotel in the Cotswolds. “OH really? I went to a hotel in the Cotswolds one on my honeymoon!” And, would you believe, he’d been working at the same one - the Old Manse at Boughton on the Water!! Not the last co-incidence on this trip, I can tell you!!

The stray pussy cats who let me say hello to them!
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So – Buenos Aries – the taxi driver who collected me to go to the End of the World Bodeo was married to a lady who had an Irish grandfather, and they’d been to Wexford last year - so he spoke more English than the average Argentinean and I felt eased into this strange non-english speaking world gently.

The hostel had an intriguing name - and decor! dirty sheets (glad I'd got the sleeping bag and silk sheet!), but mine was a great isolated room at the top of the building with my own outdoor space and any shortcomings were made up for by the very friendly staff. Had booked a room to myself at the hostel and they’d made a mistake, it was a bunk room and not a double up on the roof of the building, with a balcony and a sink in it and only 6 euros a night - so WHOOPPEE! A quiet place, ideal for an uninterrupted siesta, which I took before my first sortie into the metropolis.

More of the thousands who disappeared.
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It was some kilometres out of the city and to start my fitness programme I decided to walk. And walk and walk and walk I did, it was a LONG WAY! And all built on a grid, which I find confusing, especially if the sun goes in and I lose the compass points – which actually had changed anyway and the sun was going the other way around, so at times I did get hopelessly lost! Adding to the confusion was the fact that the hostel was so far out of town its part of the street didn’t appear on my map! I was never exactly sure which way I was supposed to be going so when I found myself at an intersection I often had to walk to the next junction to see where I was!

And one of the decorated doors at the hostel - of course I saw the real thing at the National Gallery!!
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Well this haphazard navigation took me on all kinds of detours, and on my second day of walking (the first had helped me locate the art galleries, the tango (older part) district and the banks) I meandered into a very seedy area behind what seemed to be a bus station.  I think this was the most memorable bit of my visit to the city, as I suddenly found myself confronted with a back street shrine in some exposed derelict site, flowers and photos and messages – what looked like hundreds of people being paid homage to.

The work of Molina Campos at the Buenos Aries National Gallery.
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I went around the corner and through an old entrance to another disused roofless building and there were more – and a lady in tears, holding flowers, bending down to place them below a portrait. Well I had no Spanish and she no English, but from the way she talked and our exchange of gesticulations was enough for me to understand that these were shrines to some of the thousands of young people who have disappeared in Argentina over the years – the oppressive years – it seemed that the girl was about 20 in the photo and the lady told me she sang political songs – she played guitar – and had been her friend, a very good friend and just vanished!

One of the many delightful and colourful market stalls on the streets of Buenos Aries.
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And this lady was still, probably 20 or more years later, visiting her friend and praying for her every time she passed. I asked if I could, and I photographed the shrine, but didn’t like to take a picture of the lady in tears. And we understood each other with no common verbal language – although the word ‘terrible’ is the same in both.

In the same area I met stray cats that mainly ran away, but one or two didn’t, so I took photos. And went on to the art galleries, saw photos of Che Guevara growing up and also the work of Florencio Molina Campos, a renowned Argentinean Cartoonist who worked in the 1940’s with Walt Disney – one film that did not actually make it to the can was ‘Goofy becomes Gaucho’ I believe! – The art galleries in B.A. were fabulous, the art on the streets was amazing and the markets and craft stalls I saw just inspired me to want to do more myself. But no time right now.

The 30's architecture of the shopping precinct where I bought my sombrero hat.....!
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I spent three days in all, walking the streets of Buenos Aries, getting lost one time – and not even knowing how to say the name of the street I was in so I could get a taxi back!! I succeeded with the 3^rd taxi and the help of a passer by! And I was only 2 streets away! On the final day the sunshine gave up on me and it the weather became very reminiscent of West Cork!  I sought refuge in an amazing 30's style shopping precinct (except there was a McDonalds inside! and then was faced with a dilemma about buying a sombrero hat - you see I'd gone and left my faithful drizabone at Karen's house!  After a text conference with Karen on the subject, I decided that if I got one I could walk back to the hostel in the rain, saving not only the taxi far, but the previous nights hassle too!  So that evening, after wandering further into the city, I caught this AMAZING old wooden underground train – with doors with handles! – went to take a picture and would you believe the batteries gave out? Always the way! And then the last day, after an evening in the ‘Tango’ quarter, treating myself to pizza and Argentinean wine for less that 5 euros I caught a taxi all the way to the hostel (I’d learnt to say the street in dialect by then!) as I had an early start to the airport, to get the flight to Ushuaia.