Buenos Aires

Last stop, Buenos Aires. Hotspot of the Southern Cone and home to tango shows, ludicrously cheap music and language students on a jolly. As a contrast to the hooliganism and idleness of the rest of the trip, our time in the city was largely spent with an NGO called LIFE. The acronym stands for Luchemos por una Infancia Feliz y con Esperanza ("We Strive For A Childhood With Happiness And Hope"). Quite simply they work with disadvantaged children around the poorer parts of Buenos Aires and other parts of Argentina, taking volunteers out to soup kitchens and schools where the kids can have a decent meal and play with each other and the volunteers. The organization also works to distribute food, clothing and school supplies, and arranges regular visits to dialysis wards in local hospitals. The children will often come from quite unhappy backgrounds of violence, abuse, family alcoholism and needless to say nutrition and education are often sporadic or nonexistent. Programs are run with the intention of providing a happy and safe environment for the kids to play and eat, so that they might have the sort of childhood that should be every person's right ... and that is distressingly absent so often.

The organization is pretty much run entirely by Lily and daughter Vicky, with permanent staff member Juan-Jose. There is a constant stream of changing volunteers from backpackers such as ourselves, usually on the way down to Patagonia, or occasionally from Spanish language students, who happen to find their way there by word of mouth. I had no idea what the volunteering work would actually entail, nor what environment we would be working in. The first Thursday was spent at the Juegoteca ('Playarea') in the district of Ciudad Occulta. This was a stark contrast to the luxury and ease of our base in Recoleta, with barefoot children running around in some of the poorest conditions we'd seen since leaving India. I wasn't sure exactly what to do at first - the instruction was simply to go and 'play', something I'd not done since I was of a comparable age. The awkwardness and reticence of adulthood was soon forgotten, in the shape of a tennis ball and a couple of rackets. It's amazing really ... two people can overcome barriers of age, language and culture by belting a spherical object around for a bit or sitting and doing a jigsaw puzzle together. La Farrera is another district that LIFE operates in, and again is an area which you would never, ever see as a tourist. Run down buildings that would probably be condemned in the UK, with only rudimentary electricity and plumbing in cases. Bus services are next to none, and regular taxis do not come this far out. Instead public transport is provided by a fleet of ageing Ford Falcons, which are often on their last legs and falling apart. My ride to the bus terminal was in one that had been in service since the seventies, had a hole in the floor and what looked suspiciously like blood stains on the seats.

Working with children is mostly a very rewarding experience, and dare I say it, something that you can learn from yourself. However, there are always going to be things that make you frown, though I was probably more prepared for this from the time spent in Pa Do Ta. What I'm talking about here is not so much out and out bullying, but seeing a kid who's quite happy doing his own thing and another coming over and giving them a bit of needle to get a reaction. Or twatting them over the head with a plastic truck. It constantly amazed me to see how confident some of the kids were, and it was mostly them directing the action and pulling you over to horse about with something.

The old cookery "skills" were rolled out again, with frequent visits to the soup kitchen at Los Angelitos, in the area of Ciudad Occulta. During our time around the world, Dan and I have had the importance of a good feed hammered home a good few times. Our stints at the kitchens mainly involved peeling up the veg in preparation for the cooks. There was a lot of waiting around between preparation and serving, and sometimes we questioned whether or not we were actually needed. That changed once the food was being dished out, and pandemonium broke forth. The language difference was occasionally an obstacle, but there's not much that can be lost in translation when someone points at a big pile of spuds and simply grins and nods. Yeah ... I understand perfectly. Lamenting over legumes was broken up by the spectacle of an unfeasibly large rabbit escaping from the backyard, and hunting around for morsels. It eventually clambered it's way into a box of spuds, where the big white bugger sat noshing happily away on the tuberous booty. At each session around 120 people were fed, including quite a few adults, some for taking leftovers home in a tub - a humbling experience.

Other hi-jinks involved adopting the role of the "Charity Mugger" - discussed previously on one of Dan's comments pages. So on a mild Sunday afternoon we stood around in the City of Fair Winds, the melancholy intervals of an old man playing classical guitar sounding across the park. Which made the time pass a lot easier, as there were precious few people prepared to put their hand in their pockets. This is the sort of experience that can change your perspective on a few things, if only for the duration of an afternoon. The reactions of people were varied to say the least. Clearly we had our work cut out for us anyway, given our standard of Spanish was some way short of being "confident". The majority of people don't acknowledge you at all, some almost run past, others even change their path completely and head for the safety of the church opposite. This at least brought a grin to my face ! Some have the cheek to refuse a donation then ask for directions towards the nearest payphones. Others look into the tin and exclaim '¡No Gracias !' ... the money isn't for you, Numbnuts. This was at first a deeply disheartening experience, and I actually found myself becoming slightly depressed at the slim pickings. The odd piece of change in the tin lifted my spirits rapidly, though. All in all, about twenty odd dollars worth ... nothing too "Life Changing" then. I think Liliana appreciated the support, however.

The focal point of our time with LIFE was surely the four day visit to Peruti, a village of around 500 people in the Misiones province and populated by indigenous Guarani. The Guarani were estimated to number around 400,00 by the 17th century, in tribes formed along lines of dialect when discovered by Jesuit missionaries. The Jesuits built a series of villages giving the Guarani opportunity to adopt a sedentary lifestyle. In 1838, Misiones came under control of Paraguay, but following the War Of The Triple Alliance, again came into possession of Argentina. This war (1864-70) was one of the bloodiest in the continent's history, fought over the strategic River Plate region, and pitted Paraguay against Argentina, Brazil and Uruguay. If that sounds like a tough prospect, it was. Ultimately, the results were the total defeat of Paraguay, Argentina emerging as the most wealthy and modernized state in the area and the abolishment of slavery in Brazil (which started with slaves in the military being emancipated and following from there).

The monthly trips that LIFE run to the village center around distributing clothes, head-lice treatment for the children, a program of family planning and AIDS education. We had our work cut out for us there - the water pump was in a state of disrepair, owing to the fact that a vital part of the mechanism had been stolen (presumably to sell for a quick buck). This meant that any water for cooking or cleaning had to be dragged up the hernia-inducing hill from the river. No mean feat, as the quantities of water needed meant at least twenty or so trips every day. A big theme of the visits are the clearing and disposal of litter around the village - it's heartening to see the kids so eager to help with this (naturally there's a small incentive for them to do so, with some sort of treat for every three bags of rubbish collected). I'm told that some of them are quite quick to nag their parents for help with this, and they're very keen to drag you off for an explore around the houses and fields whilst looking for "things that poison the land". Liliana has a fine line to walk on these visits, and naturally in negotiations with the Chief and other adults wants to avoid entering into the politics of the village too much. Difficult to do, as there are limited resources and items to distribute. In addition to this, it wasn't always clear if we were truly being welcomed by some of the older people in the village. The kids were immediately friendly and confident around a bunch of relative strangers (most people can only volunteer for at most two months at a time, so there's very little continuity in who turns up with Lily and Vicky), but there was a palpable feeling of distance with some of the adults.

The kids of the village line up for the food. You can see more photos of this on Dan's blog, I was charged with serving up hastily assembled burgers and orange drinks. It doesn't take Gordon Ramsey to work out that a hamburger cooked over a wood fire, left in a plastic tub for a bit and then flicked into a bun with some token lettuce and tomato isn't going to win any prizes for culinary sophistication. This did not bother our diminutive diners who wolfed them down ... and yes, there were a couple left over at the end, which I necked with great gusto (and half a litre of mustard). Yum !

Everything was going reasonably well until the sky decided to dump it's bladder on us on the Saturday afternoon. While the others huddled under the leaky dining area, Dan and I were kindly asked to charge about in the mud and deliver the benches back to the school house. Every kid in the village has their lessons there, and from what I remember there were no distinct classes - everyone just piles in together. I'm not sure what standard of teaching you could hope to impart to a class of this size and with such a range of ages and abilities. In the school at Pa Do Ta there were two distinct class rooms, even if the kids did wander between the two if they got bored. Or out the front door.

Yay for me, I'm covered in shit ! Our smiling troupe of volunteers ... a nicer and more patient group of people you couldn't hope to meet. Which is handy, given that the start and end of each day was spent bundling into an already overloaded van, vying for seating and floorspace with several hundred bottles of water. Before having several boxes of clothes and numerous trays of eggs plonked on top. This was taken on the day it pissed down with rain, and I'd been carrying innumerable buckets of water back and forth between the river. We paraded into the shop to buy some well deserved beers, and I was secretly quite pleased to be greeted with the undisguised look of total disgust from the charmers at the checkout.


Aside from such worthy deeds, most of the rest of the time was spent tirelessly shopping for music and tending a social life. Argentina had a rough time of it in the earlier part of this decade, though the economy is slowly getting healthier now. I look back at the time in this city with a large amount of fondness, and again it's because of the people we met mostly because of the trip to Misiones. It's only now with the benefit of hindsight I can see just how much of a difference this made - yeah, we didn't get to travel to Patagonia, but it doesn't matter because a few weeks hanging around with some genuinely nice people is worth more than all the "ooh, look at that" opportunities put together. And highlighted exactly what was missing during my stay in Melbourne (it could easily have been the other way around). So, a big "cheers !" to Lucy, Gregory, Anna, Matthew, Deanna, Marc, Olivia and everyone else who hung around with us in Buenos Aires.


Argentina is synonymous with Tango, a broad term which encompasses a number of different styles of music and dance, originating in the poor and immigrant areas of Buenos Aires and Uruguay's Montevideo. It's next to impossible to travel around Latin America and not take an interest in the music and dance - and Tango is certainly one of the more sensual styles. A cross between playing football and humping, the randy strolling is a sight whether it's on the streets of working class La Boca or in the context of a polished stage musical. Steamy stuff !










The antiques market in San Telmo on a Sunday is well worth a lot. It's great fun, wandering around the stalls and laughing at all the old crap. I've already mentioned the penny farthing, but other domestic curiosities include dog shaped walking sticks and an object that can only be referred to as "The Bonce". I myself have cupboard full of 1970s era video games and other rotting technology. I must get this fascination with useless rubbish from the old man, who I know for a fact has a rare collection of "objets d'irt" that he's rescued from the depths of the earth. Who knows what else the old scoundrel's got in the shed ?



Inevitably the last few weeks were spent counting off the days and champing at the bit with impatience. Unsurprising really, and various schemes were kicked around in the pursuit of sanity. A hop over to Uruguay did the trick for a few days, a mooching around picturesque Colonia del Sacremento, and dullard of the coast, Montevideo. There we met an incredibly offensive ex-pat who thought it jolly good form to insult our mate Gregory to his face and then boast about how big an insurance deal he'd just closed. Something on my face must give drunken bores the nod to come over and start talking such nonsense, and the only highlight of the evening was that we managed to get away before the subject of politics and current affairs came up. Which I'm sure would have been positively mind blowing.

The journey home was long, delayed and nerve-wracking. A lightning strike took out the control tower at the airport, and an hour into the flight a call came over inquiring as to the presence of a doctor - cue lots of people running along the plane with briefcases and determined expressions. Just the thing to calm a nervous flyer such as myself ... still, the live video feed from the tail made things interesting as we came in over the Sierra Morena. By the time I arrived back at Heathrow, I was almost too dazed to take in the wild cheers, painstakingly prepared banners and emotional reunions with my relatives.

Now I'm back to the comforts and ease that I've taken for granted all this time. Need some quick, unrestricted internet access ? A secure and clean place to sleep ? Or just some non-poisonous food and water ? Yours without a moment's hesitation. Not to mention all the family members and friends that I've missed so much whilst on the road. The first few days at home were spent feeling a bit dazed and lost as to what to do next, but at the very least sure that I made the right move at the right time. The anxiety and uncertainty that I felt in that cold, icy March of last year have completely dissipated, and I can look back with an immense amount of fondness for a journey that spanned three continents, sixteen countries, twelve months and five thousand photographs. An ever shifting backdrop of backwaters and bus stations, high seas and highways, inaccurate maps, tourist traps, deserts, glaciers, fields, forests, beaches, capital cities, rural villages, mountain trails and grotty bars. All the times spent looking nervously at bare electrical cables next to a shower head (which happens much more than you'd ever expect). All the times spent gripping the arm rests on a bumpy flight. All the times spent rolling up to a large, anonymous dormitory and wondering what conversational delights awaited (and yet sometimes they were, genuinely). Finally, the importance of traveling with a good friend who I could at all times trust and enjoy their company (very occasionally having some pretty intelligent conversations with) cannot be overstated. I have also been informed, by a reliable source on such matters, that my hip-hop skills have improved ... owed in no small part by spending most of the year playing the Rhyming Game. That by itself was worth every penny and sleepless night.

Right, that's your lot. Thank you for reading !