On the 29th of July, as my family waved me off at Mallorca airport, my dad suggested that the family might come to Brazil to visit me during my time in Florianopolis. At the time i assumed that this was some well intentioned idea that would prove that they cared about their oldest son despite not being there to wave him off from heathrow, but that would likely never materialise. You may think that i was being overly cynical, but considering they made it up to Canterbury about three times over the five year period i was at school there, you can understand my position. Anyone with a rough grasp of geography will know that Brazil is quite a bit further away than Canterbury.
So when i was told that an arrival date had been decided and that a rough intinerary had been devised i was pretty shocked. I was delighted of course, being away from the Englanders for 3 months made me realise i actually like them a bit, but i was also a little bit anxious. Many people on their years abroad don't want visits from family and friends because they view the time as a very personal experience, completely seperate to their lives at home. This was not my issue. My worries were linked to the daunting prospect of making sure everyone had a good time, which in the case of my family means a careful balance between finding enough sun for my mum, enough culture and beautiful brazilian girls for my dad, enough bizarre and life threatening activities for my brother Tom and enough time to play PSP for my brother Will. Whats more, given that none of them could speak a word of portuguese, it wasn't going to be easy.
Before their arrival on the 20th of October, I had a really good beach week in Floripa. I hit my first brazilian poker session, which was really enjoyable, partly because it was nice to sit around chatting and having a few beers but maily because i won. I put my 50 reais winnings to good use as we had a great couple of nights out. Sunday night in particular was an awesome experience, an authentic brazilian samba experience in an old fishing hut by the sea, with a crazy old man dressed like a sailor handing out filthily strong caipirinhas. The crowd was a bizarre mixture of students, pensioners, and cougars (predatory older women) but everyone seemed to be loving it.
On the tuesday we got up early and embarked on the famous trail of Lagoinha del este, a serious 2 hour hike over a mountain to a secluded beach only otherwise reachable by boat. In order to maintain the natural beauty there are no bars or restaurants on the entire beach, which is lovely unless like me you eat your entire packed lunch on the journey there. We were also the only people for quite sometime, until having walked a bit further down I encountered a local man who, having identified me as a tourist by my pink swimmin trunks, started hurling abuse at me in portuguese accusing me of coming to the beach to ruin the nature and cut down trees like i had in my own country. I tried to calm him down by assuring him that my lack of equipment would prevent me from doing any tree cutting even if i wanted to, but this didn't seem to help. A few hours later having completed the trek back, we went to see Figuerense hold on to a 1-0 win to really push their chances of promotion. Its a shame i won't be here to see them play in the first division.
The Englanders arrived at the airport at 9am the following morning armed with a series of things i had requested from home as well as some lovely additional items that my Grandma had slipped in. When you have a jewish family nothing is done half heartedly and i now have more percy pigs than days left in Brazil. As a result i am trying to incorporate them into as many meals as possible, although pasta pesto and percy is still not working for me.
After showing the family around the uni and having lunch at my house we headed up to where we stayed on the north of the island. I was delighted to find that as well as being right on the beach, the resort was able to provide all of the aforementioned family requirements (bar the beautiful brazilian girls which greatly upset my dad). Because we were staying in low season the rest of the clientele were varied, and we were almost certainly the only europeans. There also seemed to be a group of weightwatchers equivalents, which considering the resort operated on an all you can eat buffet basis for all three meals, i found a little counterproductive.
Although we did spend a lot of time within the resort, either by the pool or on the beach or trying out quadbiking and surfing, we spent a day travelling the island with a guide. It was nice for them to get a sense of the Island, but lunch in a little restaurant by the sea was the undoubted highlight. The calamari and prawn risotto were amazing and like everyone that eats there we left a little message stuck to the wall.
On the saturday night i left my family in the resort to join a group of friends to go to Oktoberfest. As there were 15 of us we hired a minibus to do the 2 hour journey to Blumenau and so we hit pre-drinks with a 'Simply Red' concert dvd playing in the background (strangely this was the only one the driver had). I wasn't quite sure what to expect when i arrived but on entering through the gates of the event and being greeted by the smeel of sour beer and vomit, i knew it was going to be a cracking night.....Henrik Von Inglunder had arrived.
The place itself felt like something out of Harry Potter with its narrow cobbled streets although the fact that many people were wandering arond in tall pointy hats may have been a contributing factor. We had a great time wandering around, dancing to traditional folk music, chatting to random people and drinking lots of german beer. At about 2.30 am me and my friend Luca decided that we were quite hungry and wandered over to a little stall selling roasted chicken on a stick. To our horror within 20 seconds of purchasing it, our delicious dinner fell on the floor. Normally i am a firm believer in the 5 second rule when food falls on the floor, but the mixture of beer, grime and god knows what else that covered the street made me reconsider. We asked the man who was serving us whether we could have a new one as he had many left and the stall was closing. He consulted his boss who was an angry old woman who just said 'no.' We tried to argue, but she wouldn't budge and so in a fit of rage, Luca picked up the chicken from the floor, threw it down again and started jumping on it. Definitely the funniest moment of the night. The minibus picked us up at 4am and drove us back to Floripa, from where I went back to the resort.
After a couple more days in Floripa, we boarded a plane to Rio de Janeiro, somewhere I had really wanted to visit. We had two full days in Rio but considering we only had such a short time there i felt we saw a good part of what the city had to offer as well as having some time to have a swim on Copocabana beach where we were staying. I liked a lot of what we saw but if i had to pick a favourite, the view from the top of christ the redeemer was pretty breathtaking, even more so than the view from kite hill on the heath which i know hampstead residents will find hard to beleive.
Our time in Rio was also marked by the regular appearance of a funny little man from a jewellery store who failed to get the message that my mum had no interest in buying any of his collection of neclaces, rings or bird sculptures made from precious stones. To be fair to him, he can't be falted for lack of effort, he followed us around the entire time, up mountains and across the city, hiding behind newspapers, climbing trees hanging onto the underside of cablecars, just so he could try and persuade us the ruby eagle was worth the investment. Silly man.
Whilst my parent had to leave on the friday morning i stayed on for a couple of days with friends of bright sun and 30 degree heat, which involved seeing more of the beach and the nightlife as well as a ride through a favela on a moped which was amazing and terrifying in equal measure (I was terrified by the driving not by the favela). On the friday night we went to a street party in Lapa (one of Rio's many districts) with my friend Lucy who is working in Rio at the moment and some of her mates. It was a really good night and the streets were still packed when we left for home at 5am. The only slightly hairy moment came sometime during the party, when two guys tried to pickpocket me. Although i managed to shake them off, between them they could have easily come back at me and taken my things. Instead to my surprise they just looked taken aback as if to say 'i can't believe you won't let us just mug you, how selfish'. Although baffled, i was delighted to hang onto my stuff.
The following night we had a relaxed dinner and some drinks at the hostel bar as some of our group were heading back to England. Meanwhile the rest of us were heading back to Florianopolis where the summer had finally arrived...
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Friday, November 12, 2010
A tale of two cities - my travels part 2.
Rather than 'Buenos Aires and Montevideo', i think a more accurate description of the second half of my trip would be 'Buenos Aires feat. Montevideo' as we were only in Uruguay's capital for a mere 24 hours. While this might not have been enough time to really get to know the city, I make no apologies, as our decision to extend our stay in Buenos Aires was based on it being cheap, fun and very sunn........y. I'm pretty confident my decision to spend the 2nd half of my year abroad there will turn out to be a great shout.
The journey to B.A. did turn out to be a bit of a let down, the lavish champagne buffet i had conjured up in my mind turned out to be a little optimistic, and instead we were offered an assortment of cheese based snacks with crackers and a bit of ham on a stick. Luckily there was also some pasta going round which i thought was pretty good. My Italian friend (who due to his heritage is a bit of a pasta snob) thought differently however, refusing to eat his portion saying 'this is nota how youa makea de bolognese' before adding 'babadibooppi' for effect.
I also decided on the journey that it would be a good idea to send an email to the man i will be working for in Buenos Aires, letting him know that i would be visiting the city. I don't know what i was hoping for, maybe a reply saying 'oh muy bien, lets go for drinks and a really nice meal (which i'll pay for) and then i can tell you what to see in the city and introduce you to some nice young argentinian girls' but unfortunately what i got instead was 'oh muy bien, come for an interview as soon as you arrive.' So after dumping my stuff at the hostel and donning my one remaining clean t shirt, i headed down to the offices on the riverfront.
The interview itself was a bit of a disaster, having put 'advanced level of spanish' on my CV my boss must have been surprised to hear his beloved mother tongue shamelessly blended with a coulourful assortment of other words, some portuguese and english and others just made up altogether. However, i'm taking the fact that he didn't withdraw his offer of employment on the spot, as a big positive.
After this rather stressful beginning, the days began to take on an altogether more relaxed shape. We spent most of the day time exploring the various 'barrios' (districts) of the city, sitting in the sun drinking beer and watching tango and visiting as many markets as was physically possible in order to maximise the benefits of the extremely good pound to peso exchange rate. I came to realise that one impulse purchase can start a whole string of other impulse purchases, until you end up back at the hostel lamenting your empty wallet and trying to remember why you bought that giant picture of a cow, or that lifetime supply of dulce de leche. Some of the group's best purchases included; a llama wool, poncho, a chessboard, an occarina, an indigenous flute, some salami, some incense, a variety of interesting hats, several football shirts, a lot of red wine and one very expensive glass of coke.
Buenos Aires is a bit of a football mad city, so when we weren't buying strange souveniers, we tried to take in as much football related culture as possible. Our big hope had been to see a Boca Juniors game, but as they were playing away from home we had to make do with visiting the stadium. Generally speaking i'm not a big fan of stadium tours as they usually involve walking through room after room showing lengthly black and white films about the construction of new stands. However in this case we were shown straight to the pitch where us four boys unashamedly paid to take the cheesey photo standing on the pitch holding various trophies. It was 100 percent worth it (although i did have my suspicions it might not be the official world cup i had in my hands).
As there was no Boca game we headed off to see River Plate (Buenos Aires' other big team). We went with a group, as we were told that it could be dangerous for tourists to go without a local. It turned out to be a good decision. We were waiting in the queue to enter the stadium with our guide who happened to look and act incredibly like Mr Bean, when a rather strange and drunk individual began to try and shove his hand in to my friend Nick's pocket, letting out loud grunts as he went. The guy, on whom we bestowed the appropriate if not very imaginative title of 'pocket man', would have probably continued this strange activity for some time (despite Nick not having any valuables in his pockets) had Bean not saved the day. After a short conversation which i assume involved bean informing pocket man of the inappropriate nature of his actions Nick and his pockets were left alone for the remainder of the afternoon. The game itself was quite exciting despite it ending as a draw, and the experience of being in such a huge stadium with such a great atmosphere was pretty incredible.
With so much going on in the daytime, we usually hit a 6 o'clock siesta before heading out again at night. Highlights of or after dark escapades included an amazing steak and wine meal in a restaurant called 'dos hermanos' where my friend Beth selflessly sliced her foot open on the stairs in order to get us all free dessert, and a club night in the Palermo district with Erol Alkan dj ing until 6.30 in the morning. A big thanks to my good friend Mr Gibbs for great company and hospitality, and a life changing bowl of cereal.....really appreciated it.
We left Buenos Aires by boat at 7am, and while my friends slept, I sat at the front like a little child and watched as we approached the coastline of Uruguay. Having arrived at our hostel we tried to make the best of our limited time frame by wandering to the seafront and exploring as much of the old town as possible. The hostel itself was pretty nice and they cooked a big barbecue that night as we watched the last chilean miners being rescued. While the situation was slightly different, I was nevertheless hoping for an equally joyful reception on my return to Florianopolis the following day
The journey to B.A. did turn out to be a bit of a let down, the lavish champagne buffet i had conjured up in my mind turned out to be a little optimistic, and instead we were offered an assortment of cheese based snacks with crackers and a bit of ham on a stick. Luckily there was also some pasta going round which i thought was pretty good. My Italian friend (who due to his heritage is a bit of a pasta snob) thought differently however, refusing to eat his portion saying 'this is nota how youa makea de bolognese' before adding 'babadibooppi' for effect.
I also decided on the journey that it would be a good idea to send an email to the man i will be working for in Buenos Aires, letting him know that i would be visiting the city. I don't know what i was hoping for, maybe a reply saying 'oh muy bien, lets go for drinks and a really nice meal (which i'll pay for) and then i can tell you what to see in the city and introduce you to some nice young argentinian girls' but unfortunately what i got instead was 'oh muy bien, come for an interview as soon as you arrive.' So after dumping my stuff at the hostel and donning my one remaining clean t shirt, i headed down to the offices on the riverfront.
The interview itself was a bit of a disaster, having put 'advanced level of spanish' on my CV my boss must have been surprised to hear his beloved mother tongue shamelessly blended with a coulourful assortment of other words, some portuguese and english and others just made up altogether. However, i'm taking the fact that he didn't withdraw his offer of employment on the spot, as a big positive.
After this rather stressful beginning, the days began to take on an altogether more relaxed shape. We spent most of the day time exploring the various 'barrios' (districts) of the city, sitting in the sun drinking beer and watching tango and visiting as many markets as was physically possible in order to maximise the benefits of the extremely good pound to peso exchange rate. I came to realise that one impulse purchase can start a whole string of other impulse purchases, until you end up back at the hostel lamenting your empty wallet and trying to remember why you bought that giant picture of a cow, or that lifetime supply of dulce de leche. Some of the group's best purchases included; a llama wool, poncho, a chessboard, an occarina, an indigenous flute, some salami, some incense, a variety of interesting hats, several football shirts, a lot of red wine and one very expensive glass of coke.
Buenos Aires is a bit of a football mad city, so when we weren't buying strange souveniers, we tried to take in as much football related culture as possible. Our big hope had been to see a Boca Juniors game, but as they were playing away from home we had to make do with visiting the stadium. Generally speaking i'm not a big fan of stadium tours as they usually involve walking through room after room showing lengthly black and white films about the construction of new stands. However in this case we were shown straight to the pitch where us four boys unashamedly paid to take the cheesey photo standing on the pitch holding various trophies. It was 100 percent worth it (although i did have my suspicions it might not be the official world cup i had in my hands).
As there was no Boca game we headed off to see River Plate (Buenos Aires' other big team). We went with a group, as we were told that it could be dangerous for tourists to go without a local. It turned out to be a good decision. We were waiting in the queue to enter the stadium with our guide who happened to look and act incredibly like Mr Bean, when a rather strange and drunk individual began to try and shove his hand in to my friend Nick's pocket, letting out loud grunts as he went. The guy, on whom we bestowed the appropriate if not very imaginative title of 'pocket man', would have probably continued this strange activity for some time (despite Nick not having any valuables in his pockets) had Bean not saved the day. After a short conversation which i assume involved bean informing pocket man of the inappropriate nature of his actions Nick and his pockets were left alone for the remainder of the afternoon. The game itself was quite exciting despite it ending as a draw, and the experience of being in such a huge stadium with such a great atmosphere was pretty incredible.
With so much going on in the daytime, we usually hit a 6 o'clock siesta before heading out again at night. Highlights of or after dark escapades included an amazing steak and wine meal in a restaurant called 'dos hermanos' where my friend Beth selflessly sliced her foot open on the stairs in order to get us all free dessert, and a club night in the Palermo district with Erol Alkan dj ing until 6.30 in the morning. A big thanks to my good friend Mr Gibbs for great company and hospitality, and a life changing bowl of cereal.....really appreciated it.
We left Buenos Aires by boat at 7am, and while my friends slept, I sat at the front like a little child and watched as we approached the coastline of Uruguay. Having arrived at our hostel we tried to make the best of our limited time frame by wandering to the seafront and exploring as much of the old town as possible. The hostel itself was pretty nice and they cooked a big barbecue that night as we watched the last chilean miners being rescued. While the situation was slightly different, I was nevertheless hoping for an equally joyful reception on my return to Florianopolis the following day
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Iguazu falls - not just a glorified tap - my travels part 1
Before i begin i would like to sincerely apologise for my lack of recent blogging, I have spent most of october 'gallavanting around south america' as my good friend Rosie Durance put it. I was initially worried about having to explain my prolonged absence to my teachers. However having finally plucked up the courage to tell them, their general reaction was not 'are you taking the piss' as i had feared but instead 'go and enjoy yourself'. You've got to love the brazilian attitude to life. So after my final lecture of Brazilian history, where the old presentation competition got taken to a whole new level by a guy who wrote and performed a song based on the text about womens rights, i packed my bags and set off.
My trip began at Florianopolis central bus station, a building that made up for its uninspiring design by offering a superb range of chewy sweets. After making a bold selection of peach chewits, we boarded the 7pm PLUMA bus due to arrive at 8am the next morning. The journey itself was pretty relaxed and we met a young bristolian couple who were making the most of their redundancy packets to travel round the whole of South America. Chatting to them was definitely better than trying to watch avatar dubbed in portuguese. After a dinner stop at a shop offering bizarre religious artifacts as well as a dodgy looking buffet, I succesfully slept through the rockin of the bus and Sophie's snores, waking up just as we arrived in Foz de Iguazu, on the Brazilian side of the falls.
After a quick breakfast of peach chewits we headed straight to the falls. I will admit at this stage that i had originally been pretty unfussed about seeing Iguazu, having been a longtime member of the 'nature shmature' school of thought. However as soon as we got off the bus i knew i had been mistaken, We followed the path onto a platform, dizzyingly suspended right over the edge of the falls and the beauty, the noise and the sheer power of the water were absolutely immense. I will freely admit i loved it. I only wish i hadn't had several cups of coffee with breakfast to wash down the rather soapy chewits, as i began to need the loo. As i'm sure you can imagine waiting in a long queue whilst millions of gallons of water are cascading next to you is not the most pleasant experience in the world.
After wandering a bit more and sharing a buffet lunch with a load of angry wasps we briefly visited the famous bird park. Whilst most of the animals were in cages, some of the more tranquil birds were housed in big aviaries which we were able to carefully enter. This greatly excited the gaggle of four year olds in front of us, who tried their best to 'interact' with the toucans, much to their teachers horror. Other highlights included flamingos, tropical parrots, and even an alligator which makes me think that the brazilian classification of 'bird' is a little wider than our own. Either that or the savage bastard had just wandered in and eaten the bird that previously resided there.
Sightseeing completed, we then got a van over to Puerto Iguazu on the argentinian side of the falls where our hostel for the night was located. The weather was still beautiful so we went for a wander around the town before making best use of the great exchange rate to settle down for an awesome steak and wine dinner.
The following day we explored the Argentinian iguazu park, where the general theme of waterfall continued, although we were able to get onto a boat trip that went right under the falls. We all expected to end up soaking wet, but their is nothing less reassuring than seeing the crew of the boat your in don wetsuits and wellingtons when your in shorts and t-shirts. In any case it was seriously good fun, a must do for any of you thinking of visiting Iguazu.
After returning to the hostel that evening i went in search of an atm, only to find that my card had been blocked. After calling the Barclays 24 hour help service, I was transferred to a man in India who was suppposed to help me resolve this issue. Having given him my card number, my home address, my mother's maiden name, the name of my first pet, my brother's shoe size and my dad's golfing handicap he told me he still needed to prove I was who i said i was by anwsering a question about my account.
'can you tell me about a recent transaction?' he said
'i took out some money two days ago' i replied
'how much?'
'about £50'
'at what time?'
'about middday i guess'
'would you say closer to 11:45 or 12:15?'
'i have no idea'
'roughly?'
At this point i had to restrain myself from throwing my phone against the wall and instead calmly managed to persuade him i was not an impostor, I just didn't have a watch.
'Ok so you in Uruguay'
'no Argentina'
'but you say Uruguay'
'Im going there after'
'Ok so I put Argentina then Uruguay in system, will that be in South America at all?'
'almost entirely' (i don't think he got the sarcasm)
'ok thats fine Mr Englander, i have registered that change to your second account'
'no thats my savings account, i want to change my current account'
'no its not savings'
'yes it is savings'
'no its not'
'yes it is'
'look im not having an argument about whether my savings account is actually a savings account, please just put the changes onto my other account'
'very well Mr Englander, anything else i can help you with?'
'No'
While it might make sound economic success, I have now realised how much I hate outsourcing.
That night, as it was our friend Joe's 22nd Birthday we decided to hit a few bars before wandering to the towns only club 'Cuba Libre'. We were joined by a man from our hostel called Nick who turned out not to be a rapist or murderer as we had originally feared but instead just really really odd. He spent most of the night, criticising our taste in wine, plying us with drinks and trying to force Joe (who was pretty much passed out on the dancefloor) to dance salsa. It was still a great night summed up by Joe when asked to describe his birthday in one word on the journey home. 'Gggett oouuuttt' he replied.
We had most of the following day to kill before our evening bus to Buenos Aires so we decided to cross the border to Ciudad del Este, Paraguay. We were told that people mainly visit the city for the stamp in the passport or for cheap shopping. So having got the stamp, bought various pairs of sunglasses and sports socks, had a photo taken with some pretty grumpy policemen and managed to escape from a man determined to sell us singing condoms we returned to our hostel in Puerto Iguazu in time to confirm our bus tickets.
I was particulairly excited for the journey as beer, wine and champagne were all included in the £50 ticket as well as a delicious hot dinner and breakfast. I just hoped it wasn't too good to be true....
My trip began at Florianopolis central bus station, a building that made up for its uninspiring design by offering a superb range of chewy sweets. After making a bold selection of peach chewits, we boarded the 7pm PLUMA bus due to arrive at 8am the next morning. The journey itself was pretty relaxed and we met a young bristolian couple who were making the most of their redundancy packets to travel round the whole of South America. Chatting to them was definitely better than trying to watch avatar dubbed in portuguese. After a dinner stop at a shop offering bizarre religious artifacts as well as a dodgy looking buffet, I succesfully slept through the rockin of the bus and Sophie's snores, waking up just as we arrived in Foz de Iguazu, on the Brazilian side of the falls.
After a quick breakfast of peach chewits we headed straight to the falls. I will admit at this stage that i had originally been pretty unfussed about seeing Iguazu, having been a longtime member of the 'nature shmature' school of thought. However as soon as we got off the bus i knew i had been mistaken, We followed the path onto a platform, dizzyingly suspended right over the edge of the falls and the beauty, the noise and the sheer power of the water were absolutely immense. I will freely admit i loved it. I only wish i hadn't had several cups of coffee with breakfast to wash down the rather soapy chewits, as i began to need the loo. As i'm sure you can imagine waiting in a long queue whilst millions of gallons of water are cascading next to you is not the most pleasant experience in the world.
After wandering a bit more and sharing a buffet lunch with a load of angry wasps we briefly visited the famous bird park. Whilst most of the animals were in cages, some of the more tranquil birds were housed in big aviaries which we were able to carefully enter. This greatly excited the gaggle of four year olds in front of us, who tried their best to 'interact' with the toucans, much to their teachers horror. Other highlights included flamingos, tropical parrots, and even an alligator which makes me think that the brazilian classification of 'bird' is a little wider than our own. Either that or the savage bastard had just wandered in and eaten the bird that previously resided there.
Sightseeing completed, we then got a van over to Puerto Iguazu on the argentinian side of the falls where our hostel for the night was located. The weather was still beautiful so we went for a wander around the town before making best use of the great exchange rate to settle down for an awesome steak and wine dinner.
The following day we explored the Argentinian iguazu park, where the general theme of waterfall continued, although we were able to get onto a boat trip that went right under the falls. We all expected to end up soaking wet, but their is nothing less reassuring than seeing the crew of the boat your in don wetsuits and wellingtons when your in shorts and t-shirts. In any case it was seriously good fun, a must do for any of you thinking of visiting Iguazu.
After returning to the hostel that evening i went in search of an atm, only to find that my card had been blocked. After calling the Barclays 24 hour help service, I was transferred to a man in India who was suppposed to help me resolve this issue. Having given him my card number, my home address, my mother's maiden name, the name of my first pet, my brother's shoe size and my dad's golfing handicap he told me he still needed to prove I was who i said i was by anwsering a question about my account.
'can you tell me about a recent transaction?' he said
'i took out some money two days ago' i replied
'how much?'
'about £50'
'at what time?'
'about middday i guess'
'would you say closer to 11:45 or 12:15?'
'i have no idea'
'roughly?'
At this point i had to restrain myself from throwing my phone against the wall and instead calmly managed to persuade him i was not an impostor, I just didn't have a watch.
'Ok so you in Uruguay'
'no Argentina'
'but you say Uruguay'
'Im going there after'
'Ok so I put Argentina then Uruguay in system, will that be in South America at all?'
'almost entirely' (i don't think he got the sarcasm)
'ok thats fine Mr Englander, i have registered that change to your second account'
'no thats my savings account, i want to change my current account'
'no its not savings'
'yes it is savings'
'no its not'
'yes it is'
'look im not having an argument about whether my savings account is actually a savings account, please just put the changes onto my other account'
'very well Mr Englander, anything else i can help you with?'
'No'
While it might make sound economic success, I have now realised how much I hate outsourcing.
That night, as it was our friend Joe's 22nd Birthday we decided to hit a few bars before wandering to the towns only club 'Cuba Libre'. We were joined by a man from our hostel called Nick who turned out not to be a rapist or murderer as we had originally feared but instead just really really odd. He spent most of the night, criticising our taste in wine, plying us with drinks and trying to force Joe (who was pretty much passed out on the dancefloor) to dance salsa. It was still a great night summed up by Joe when asked to describe his birthday in one word on the journey home. 'Gggett oouuuttt' he replied.
We had most of the following day to kill before our evening bus to Buenos Aires so we decided to cross the border to Ciudad del Este, Paraguay. We were told that people mainly visit the city for the stamp in the passport or for cheap shopping. So having got the stamp, bought various pairs of sunglasses and sports socks, had a photo taken with some pretty grumpy policemen and managed to escape from a man determined to sell us singing condoms we returned to our hostel in Puerto Iguazu in time to confirm our bus tickets.
I was particulairly excited for the journey as beer, wine and champagne were all included in the £50 ticket as well as a delicious hot dinner and breakfast. I just hoped it wasn't too good to be true....
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