We hitched a ride from Estancia Harberton with two tourists from England. One of them was the hottest 50 year old woman I have ever seen. Things got complicated with getting to Rio Grande and we had to spend another night in Ushuaia.
We didn´t want to spend the next couple days waiting for Helgi in Ushuaia, so we decided to go to the small town of Tolhuin the next day, which was halfway to Rio Grande. Tolhuin is a small town with nothing except a really great bakery, a bakery that has tucans and parrots. It´s in the middle of a tundran landscape, surrounded by dense green forests, but the bakery has tropical birds. Brilliant.
We were going to sleep by the lake but it was far and the weather was cold so we just walked around the town for a while looking for a place to pitch our tent. Tolhuin also has the largest collection of annoying stray dogs in the world that will not hesitate to bug the shit out of you if you walk through it´s gravel roads. Luckily we found an open field, walked into it where there was tree coverage and set up camp for the night. The grove we stayed in was full of moss that hung off the trees which we aptly named "tree beard" and made a great fire starter. We slept for free in our temporary homes and packed up the next morning to move on again.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Saturday, January 17, 2009
January 12th, 2009
Waking up to the sun rising over the lake was as beautiful as we expected.
We arrived back at the property and decided to move on to another destination. Tierra del Fuego, outside of the few cities it has is covered with Sheep Estancias and the Harberton Estancia is the most famous of them all. Scarlett had another family connection with the people there so we decided to try our luck and headed east to the ranch with a driver from Salta who loved his home and to Haukur´s displeasure wanted to tell him all about it. Sometimes riding shotgun doesn´t have it´s benefits.
Estancia Harberton looks like a little piece of Ireland at the end of the world. Spotted with wooden cottages and farms, I was only missing a pair of overalls and I would have been right at home with my Leprechaun-like beard. Fortuneately Tommy, the owner of the place, did have overalls on, and hated to
urists. He also didn´t give a shit that Scarlett was there and treated us with the same akward politeness that he did all the other tourists that flooded the Estancia everyday.
We were, however, allowed to stay on the property free of charge and hiked the two kilometers to our site.
The weather was good and there was no one else on the property save the occasional fox that scampered by and the pack of wild horses that would run through our campsite. We made some stew and enjoyed the long day by t
he campfire.
We arrived back at the property and decided to move on to another destination. Tierra del Fuego, outside of the few cities it has is covered with Sheep Estancias and the Harberton Estancia is the most famous of them all. Scarlett had another family connection with the people there so we decided to try our luck and headed east to the ranch with a driver from Salta who loved his home and to Haukur´s displeasure wanted to tell him all about it. Sometimes riding shotgun doesn´t have it´s benefits.
Estancia Harberton looks like a little piece of Ireland at the end of the world. Spotted with wooden cottages and farms, I was only missing a pair of overalls and I would have been right at home with my Leprechaun-like beard. Fortuneately Tommy, the owner of the place, did have overalls on, and hated to
urists. He also didn´t give a shit that Scarlett was there and treated us with the same akward politeness that he did all the other tourists that flooded the Estancia everyday.We were, however, allowed to stay on the property free of charge and hiked the two kilometers to our site.
The weather was good and there was no one else on the property save the occasional fox that scampered by and the pack of wild horses that would run through our campsite. We made some stew and enjoyed the long day by t
he campfire.
January 11th, 2009
The lake was beautiful. We wanted to sleep by it.
Haukur and I packed up our gear and headed slowly up to the lake again. We took our time and napped in the marsh.
Set up the tents in the woods around the lake.
The beavers had been creating dams and killing the trees in the area. There were small lakes turquoise lakes with dead trees growing out of them. Devastatingly beautiful.
Made a fire, music, and food. Stared at the coals until bed.
Haukur and I packed up our gear and headed slowly up to the lake again. We took our time and napped in the marsh.
Set up the tents in the woods around the lake.
The beavers had been creating dams and killing the trees in the area. There were small lakes turquoise lakes with dead trees growing out of them. Devastatingly beautiful.
Made a fire, music, and food. Stared at the coals until bed.
Friday, January 16, 2009
January 10th, 2009
It was time to get the fuck out of Ushuaia.
We packed up our things an
d found a cheap ride up to Valle de Lobos. Gato, the owner was a pretty big name in these parts, being the first Argentine to finish the Alaskan Iditarod dog sled race. Valle de Lobos is where he trains his 84 Alaskan sled dogs year round. Gato is a man. He wears overalls, chops wood and eats meat. He will crush your hand with his handshake and grows a beard that makes Sam Beam look like a pre-pubescent boy.
He allowed us to stay on and around his property free of charge so we set up in a small wooden, dirt floored refuge with a giant iron oven in the center.
Close to the refuge was a trail that led to the Laguna Esmeralda. We hit the trail around 1 pm. It was a short hike and after going through a forest we came to a marshy tundra landscape covered in a red colored moss that gave way under your feet like a memory foam mattress. Reaching a crest in the landscape we came upon the turquoise colored lake that seemed more fitting for a Caribbean landscape than the southern pole. The lake is made from fresh water runoff from the glacier in the surrounding mountains. Needless to say the water is frigid. That didn´t stop my little blonde icelander from swimming in it to the amusement of all the Argentines.
We cooked over fires and slept in the dirt. We passed the hours playing guitars, harmonicas, melodicas and mouth harps huddled over the flames. We did little and talked even less. The life is simple and and sweet.
Did you know you can clean pots with dirt?
We packed up our things an
d found a cheap ride up to Valle de Lobos. Gato, the owner was a pretty big name in these parts, being the first Argentine to finish the Alaskan Iditarod dog sled race. Valle de Lobos is where he trains his 84 Alaskan sled dogs year round. Gato is a man. He wears overalls, chops wood and eats meat. He will crush your hand with his handshake and grows a beard that makes Sam Beam look like a pre-pubescent boy.He allowed us to stay on and around his property free of charge so we set up in a small wooden, dirt floored refuge with a giant iron oven in the center.
Close to the refuge was a trail that led to the Laguna Esmeralda. We hit the trail around 1 pm. It was a short hike and after going through a forest we came to a marshy tundra landscape covered in a red colored moss that gave way under your feet like a memory foam mattress. Reaching a crest in the landscape we came upon the turquoise colored lake that seemed more fitting for a Caribbean landscape than the southern pole. The lake is made from fresh water runoff from the glacier in the surrounding mountains. Needless to say the water is frigid. That didn´t stop my little blonde icelander from swimming in it to the amusement of all the Argentines.
We cooked over fires and slept in the dirt. We passed the hours playing guitars, harmonicas, melodicas and mouth harps huddled over the flames. We did little and talked even less. The life is simple and and sweet.
Did you know you can clean pots with dirt?
January 9th, 2009
Woke up after the first night in my new tent to realize that I was not prepared for the cold here in the South. My feet were two enormous ice cubes. Scarlett and I had squeezed into my one person tent. We had enough space, but realized with the condensation from two people in a one person tent we woke up a bit wet, and would have to figure something out for the coming days. Breakfast was yogurt, and we headed to meet Haukur in town and figure out what to do in the coming days.Finding a place for lunch that was somewhat affordable was a futile effort so we settled on a cafe on the main strip after 45 minutes of searching. Scarlett, having her father´s side of the family coming from Argentina, has friends all over the country and so the next day we were to take advantage of these connections and head to a new locale but first we had to stock up for some nights in the mountains.
Before the supermarket we checked out the one cool museum in Ushuaia, dedicated to the indigenous people
of Tierra del Fuego, who are all but wiped out today. In the theory of the great human migration from Africa, over the Siberian land bridge, Tierra del Fuego was the absolute last place on earth to be populated. The province gets it´s name from Magellan when he traveled through here and saw the smoke rising from all the fires the indegenous people always kept burning. They lived naked in this brutal atmosphere and kept fires burning at all times, even in their canoes as they fished. They were an incredible people who had adapted to their environment here but were unfortunately killed off by the white man´s diseases when they came storming in, bringing Jesus with them.Eating dinner on the street on the side of a supermarket was a new one for me, but we are living cheap. Cheap and happy.
La Adventura del Sur
I have been blessed this year with a 4 month summer vacation, the longest I´ve ever had, and I get to spend it completely free and homeless in South America. For me, the vacation has been split into two very different time periods. I spent the first two months boldueando around the north of Argentina, Brazil, and Uruguay with some beautiful ladies. It was me and four other girls, two Americans and two Dutch. 24 hours a day, 7 days a week with 4 women is quite an experience, but one I was fortunate to have.
Now begins part two. The Southern Adventure, or what one could call the Southern Manventure. I am traveling with two crazy asshole from Iceland and our plan is to have no plan and do all of the wildest things that one can do with two free months in Patagonia.
On January 8th of the year two-thousand-and-nine I got on a plane in Buenos Aires headed for Ushuaia, the city at 'the end of the world.' Ushuaia is in fact the southernmost city in the world and they take full advantage of this fact to bring in tourists, and they do a good job of that. Walking through the city you see more adventure hungry youngsters and camera wielding tourists than locals. I arrived with Scarlett, for it just so happened that our paths coincided for the time being and we left Buenos Aires at 98 degrees and arrived in Ushuaia at a hearty summer´s day of 43 degrees. We arrived with tents and plans to sleep where ever we could. We hiked up above the town and pitched our tent at the only local campsite, which was at the local ski club, and set up for the night. For dinner we took our remaining peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (a delicacy an American can only appreciate after living in a country that hates peanut butter) and hiked to the top of the ski slope for a view of the town. Ushuaia is not the picturesque winter town that I had invisioned. It´s actually kind of a blight upon the beautiful landscape that surrounds it. It´s a small Argentine town, broken up in two parts, the center where everything is overpriced and full of gift shops, and the more run down residential part surrounding it. All of this is located on the Beagle Canal surrounded by snow covered peaks. A natural wonderland with a distinct landscape I have never seen before.
The temperature was dropping so we headed down to the tent, caught up with Haukur for a bit and decided to hit the sack early that night and be fresh for the next day. At 11:30 we packed up and got ready to get in our sleeping bags, the sun still going down over the horizon. The nights here don´t really get dark, there always seems to be a glow over the horizon and by the time 4 am comes around, the sun shows it´s face for the coming day.
Now begins part two. The Southern Adventure, or what one could call the Southern Manventure. I am traveling with two crazy asshole from Iceland and our plan is to have no plan and do all of the wildest things that one can do with two free months in Patagonia.
On January 8th of the year two-thousand-and-nine I got on a plane in Buenos Aires headed for Ushuaia, the city at 'the end of the world.' Ushuaia is in fact the southernmost city in the world and they take full advantage of this fact to bring in tourists, and they do a good job of that. Walking through the city you see more adventure hungry youngsters and camera wielding tourists than locals. I arrived with Scarlett, for it just so happened that our paths coincided for the time being and we left Buenos Aires at 98 degrees and arrived in Ushuaia at a hearty summer´s day of 43 degrees. We arrived with tents and plans to sleep where ever we could. We hiked up above the town and pitched our tent at the only local campsite, which was at the local ski club, and set up for the night. For dinner we took our remaining peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (a delicacy an American can only appreciate after living in a country that hates peanut butter) and hiked to the top of the ski slope for a view of the town. Ushuaia is not the picturesque winter town that I had invisioned. It´s actually kind of a blight upon the beautiful landscape that surrounds it. It´s a small Argentine town, broken up in two parts, the center where everything is overpriced and full of gift shops, and the more run down residential part surrounding it. All of this is located on the Beagle Canal surrounded by snow covered peaks. A natural wonderland with a distinct landscape I have never seen before.
The temperature was dropping so we headed down to the tent, caught up with Haukur for a bit and decided to hit the sack early that night and be fresh for the next day. At 11:30 we packed up and got ready to get in our sleeping bags, the sun still going down over the horizon. The nights here don´t really get dark, there always seems to be a glow over the horizon and by the time 4 am comes around, the sun shows it´s face for the coming day.
Friday, January 2, 2009
Año Nuevo en Buenos Aires
This year New Year's Eve was spent in Buenos Aires. For the last two months I have been traveling around South America. I spent a month traveling through various locations in Brazil including Rio de Janeiro, Florianopolis, and Isla Grande. I returned through Uruguay and have spent the last couple of weeks moving through parts of Argentina, the wine country in Mendoza and a couple of days in the capital of Córdoba. Christmas was spent in Concordia in the province of Entre Rios with Horacio and his family. All of this has been an incredible experience and I will blog about them all, but getting time on a computer that I don't have to pay for is hard to come by, and honestly I don't want to spend my time sitting on the computer when I'm traveling. I will however get some stories up when time allows, and, having it all already written in my journal, I don't have to worry about forgetting the details.
On the 31st of December I woke slowly, it being nice being able to relax a bit on our return to Buenos Aires. My birthday present was a trip to the exclusive Aqua Vita Medical Spa where I was to have my first professional massage. Aqua Vita had the feel of the place in the end of Vanilla Sky where Tom Cruise finds out about LE, except with a blue hue. It was like a spaceship. All the furniture was white, with little blue ponds and aquariums everywhere and that silly ambiance music that only spas and New Age douchebags play. I was led into the back to my respective bathroom where I was to change out of my clothes and put on my robe. I stood there for a second and debated weather or not I was to wear underwear. Nobody gave me any guidelines, I was a scared fledgeling in a dangerous world of creams and women in white. I decided to just bear all and go naked under my robe. Turns out they gave us a little temporary underwear, which I thought was a shower cap, and we were not supposed to be naked. Well, the deed is done.
The first part was the steam room. I sat and sweat in the nude for about 10 minutes and let all of my pores cleanse themselves. I rinsed off afterwards and headed into my massage room. I was told to lay face down, and followed suit , my white cheeks exposed to the world. My masseuse was a four foot tall asian man. I remember one thought crossing my mind when I realized it would be a man who would be rubing his hands all over me. If I'm in a relaxed state, and someone is rubbing my body, who I cannot see because I'm facing down and my eyes are closed, but I know in my head is a man, and I get an erection, is that weird? I wondered, had that little asian man made other straight men hard with his hands? It's quite possible. I had a choice between the deep tissue or the relaxing massage and I'm glad I chose the relaxing one because it was vigourous nonetheless. There was a point were the little man got up on the bench, sat over my head and massaged my back. He was quite the professional. After about half an hour my turn was over, and it had passed without any penile incidents.
The body exfoliating scrub was next and afterwards I got a complete lotioning to top it all off. All in all this little asain man saw me naked on three separate occasions as I switched from room to room for each different part. The day was finished with a bowl of fruit and a glass of water with cucumber in it. One can never be too healthy.
After the massage I was like a big piece of Jello and all I could think about was sleep so I picked up some provisions from the supermarket and went back to the hostel to rest before the evenings activities. Having all of our friends either at home in their respective countries, or traveling around various others, the Dutch and I decided to head to Club Museum in San Telmo with our hostel. There was a deal where we got a dinner, drinks, entrance to the club, and a show for a pretty good price. The girls got dolled up, and of course looked ravishing, and we headed out as a big group of foreigners to the club, having to walk there because cabs and busses weren't running. Club Museum is a huge open club with a grand dance floor, about 30 disco balls hanging in the center, and three levels of couches and areas you could head to to get off the dance floor. There was a lot of potential, but unfortunately it was one of the weakest New Years I have had. The dinner was mediocre, they had a shitty band, and they didn't even fucking count down when 12 came around. I just didn't have the New Years feel. The one redeeming quality of the night was the Transvestite MC. There was a part after midnight when he went from table to table picking volunteers. He ended up at our huge table of foreigners talking to the Austrailian girl sitting to my right who did not know one word of Spanish. I tried to help her translate which drew attention to me and the Tranny picked me to go on stage. I arrived onstage with three others, a woman in here late 20's, a woman in her 50's who had had way to much surgery and still had the body of a 25 year old, and another American guy. After a series of questions we were broken up into pairs and I got stuck with the 50 year old, not knowing what we had to do. The other couple went up first and the Tranny told them that they were to preform a strip tease. Oh dear God. I think you know where this is going. Yes, our pair was next and I did a strip tease for a 50 year old woman in front of 300 people while the Tranny with a microphone was cheering me on. There is a video on Facebook for your viewing pleasure. Happy New Year.
On the 31st of December I woke slowly, it being nice being able to relax a bit on our return to Buenos Aires. My birthday present was a trip to the exclusive Aqua Vita Medical Spa where I was to have my first professional massage. Aqua Vita had the feel of the place in the end of Vanilla Sky where Tom Cruise finds out about LE, except with a blue hue. It was like a spaceship. All the furniture was white, with little blue ponds and aquariums everywhere and that silly ambiance music that only spas and New Age douchebags play. I was led into the back to my respective bathroom where I was to change out of my clothes and put on my robe. I stood there for a second and debated weather or not I was to wear underwear. Nobody gave me any guidelines, I was a scared fledgeling in a dangerous world of creams and women in white. I decided to just bear all and go naked under my robe. Turns out they gave us a little temporary underwear, which I thought was a shower cap, and we were not supposed to be naked. Well, the deed is done.
The first part was the steam room. I sat and sweat in the nude for about 10 minutes and let all of my pores cleanse themselves. I rinsed off afterwards and headed into my massage room. I was told to lay face down, and followed suit , my white cheeks exposed to the world. My masseuse was a four foot tall asian man. I remember one thought crossing my mind when I realized it would be a man who would be rubing his hands all over me. If I'm in a relaxed state, and someone is rubbing my body, who I cannot see because I'm facing down and my eyes are closed, but I know in my head is a man, and I get an erection, is that weird? I wondered, had that little asian man made other straight men hard with his hands? It's quite possible. I had a choice between the deep tissue or the relaxing massage and I'm glad I chose the relaxing one because it was vigourous nonetheless. There was a point were the little man got up on the bench, sat over my head and massaged my back. He was quite the professional. After about half an hour my turn was over, and it had passed without any penile incidents.
The body exfoliating scrub was next and afterwards I got a complete lotioning to top it all off. All in all this little asain man saw me naked on three separate occasions as I switched from room to room for each different part. The day was finished with a bowl of fruit and a glass of water with cucumber in it. One can never be too healthy.
After the massage I was like a big piece of Jello and all I could think about was sleep so I picked up some provisions from the supermarket and went back to the hostel to rest before the evenings activities. Having all of our friends either at home in their respective countries, or traveling around various others, the Dutch and I decided to head to Club Museum in San Telmo with our hostel. There was a deal where we got a dinner, drinks, entrance to the club, and a show for a pretty good price. The girls got dolled up, and of course looked ravishing, and we headed out as a big group of foreigners to the club, having to walk there because cabs and busses weren't running. Club Museum is a huge open club with a grand dance floor, about 30 disco balls hanging in the center, and three levels of couches and areas you could head to to get off the dance floor. There was a lot of potential, but unfortunately it was one of the weakest New Years I have had. The dinner was mediocre, they had a shitty band, and they didn't even fucking count down when 12 came around. I just didn't have the New Years feel. The one redeeming quality of the night was the Transvestite MC. There was a part after midnight when he went from table to table picking volunteers. He ended up at our huge table of foreigners talking to the Austrailian girl sitting to my right who did not know one word of Spanish. I tried to help her translate which drew attention to me and the Tranny picked me to go on stage. I arrived onstage with three others, a woman in here late 20's, a woman in her 50's who had had way to much surgery and still had the body of a 25 year old, and another American guy. After a series of questions we were broken up into pairs and I got stuck with the 50 year old, not knowing what we had to do. The other couple went up first and the Tranny told them that they were to preform a strip tease. Oh dear God. I think you know where this is going. Yes, our pair was next and I did a strip tease for a 50 year old woman in front of 300 people while the Tranny with a microphone was cheering me on. There is a video on Facebook for your viewing pleasure. Happy New Year.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Oktoberfest The Finale
Our final day in Villa General Belgrano was the biggest fiasco of all. We all woke around 10, everyone except for me so hungover that they wanted to 
die. Horacio and Finn had just gotten back an hour or so before we all woke up and couldn't even function. Having a hunger in our bellies we found that all we had left to eat was canned corn and rice. It was breakfast. Well, we tried to have it for breakfast, but Finn put half a bag of salt into it. It was almost heart attack inducing but we were just hungry enough to swallow it down.
We packed up our things and were sitting around on the porch trying to produce thoughts and drinking the last of the beer we had in the fridge because according to Haukur, "You never waste beer." when Javier comes over to hang out. He talked with us a bit, and couldn't wait to brag about how he cheated on his fiancee with the fat girl in the cabin next door. Way to go Javi, your fiancee was pretty hot too. Affter a couple of minutes Javier decided that he wanted to share his taste in music with us and ran over to his cabin to bring over a stero. None of us were enthused, considering a majority of our group had splitting headaches, but we were even less exited when we found out what he liked to listen to. The first selection, ZZ Top. Ok not horrible, but I happened to like the peace and quiet of the country and the music was killing the vibe. It got worse though when he took out his ZZ Top cd and replaced it with none other than Shania Twain. When 'Man I Feel Like A Woman' came on Horacio, Haukur and I couldn't take any more so we hopped the fence to play with the horses in the pasture.
An hour later, Javier was to drive us the 2 kilometers to where the bus was to pick us up, which was great becasue he had been drinking till 9 am and was drinking again on our front porch. But it wasn't far so we figured it was safe enough and we hopped in the back of his pickup truck and headed to our stop. After about 20
minutes a little white bus drove by, the same company we were to take, at exactly the time when we were to take it. The bus came by and continued on it's path without stopping. Nobody even thought twice about it. We continued to sit on our respective stumps, throwing bits of wood into puddles because our brains were too clouded for higher motor functions. 30 minutes passed without event when a thought suddenly occured to me.
"Do you guys think that was our bus?" I asked our team.
Everyone kinda stared at eachother for a good 15 seconds. "Yeaaaaa," responded everyone.
We sat for another 30 seco
nds pondering what it was we were to do. If nothing happened quickly we would miss our connecting bus in Córdoba and be stuck in the woods with Javier for another night. We had only one option, Javier had to drive us into town to the bus station and get everything sorted out. The only problem was that as we were sitting around waiting for our bus, Javier had been off to the side drinking Fernet and Coke with some friends that he ran into. We had no other options. We got into the back of his pickup truck and started our 10 km ride into town along a slick, freshly rained highway. Haukur had the good sense to get into the front where there was a seatbelt, while Finn, T Bone, Horacito and myself got stuck in the bed hanging on for dear life. As if it wasn't bad enough, righ
t before we hit the highway, Javier's friend pulls up beside the truck and hands Javier the Fernet and Coke, in case he gets thirsty on the ride home. We flew down the highway at 120 kmphr (kilometers per hour? Fucking metric system). We made it to the bus station in one piece, but my knuckles were white from hanging onto the truck.
We got our tickets sorted out and ended up getting a better, more direct ride back to Buenos Aires. We had an hour to kill so we sat down in the cafeteria and got some pizza and water while Javier and his friends continued to drink standing over us. It was there that we met Carlos, the 7 foot tall, at least 300 pound drunk blind man who decided to top off the Oktoberfest celebration for us. Javier invited Carlos to come sit with the four of us and then subsequently left him with us as he headed back to his cabin. Ca
rlos was, as described before, enormous, and wore a complete set of navy blue sweats with matching T-shirt, which he was constantly using to wipe the sweat off of his mustache. He was probably one of the most digusting human beings I've ever seen, but God dammit he was entertaining. He would try and tell us everything he knew in English, which included singing Bon Jovi and Bruce Springsteen song, and famous quotes like "I'm sorry I am FAAAT!" or, "I like marajuana and women of the night." or my personal favorite, "My girlfriend is a fat prostitute." He asked us where we were from and when we told him we study in Buenos Aires he responded with, "I jerk off in Buenos Aires," which he followed by hawking a lougie and spitting it right on the floor. Oh Carlos, you made Córdoba wonderful. Fortunately our bus was ontime because after an hour with him it had gone past entertaining and was then annoying. We hopped on our bus and 12 hours later we were back in our wonderful beds in the Capital Federal. Epic.
die. Horacio and Finn had just gotten back an hour or so before we all woke up and couldn't even function. Having a hunger in our bellies we found that all we had left to eat was canned corn and rice. It was breakfast. Well, we tried to have it for breakfast, but Finn put half a bag of salt into it. It was almost heart attack inducing but we were just hungry enough to swallow it down.We packed up our things and were sitting around on the porch trying to produce thoughts and drinking the last of the beer we had in the fridge because according to Haukur, "You never waste beer." when Javier comes over to hang out. He talked with us a bit, and couldn't wait to brag about how he cheated on his fiancee with the fat girl in the cabin next door. Way to go Javi, your fiancee was pretty hot too. Affter a couple of minutes Javier decided that he wanted to share his taste in music with us and ran over to his cabin to bring over a stero. None of us were enthused, considering a majority of our group had splitting headaches, but we were even less exited when we found out what he liked to listen to. The first selection, ZZ Top. Ok not horrible, but I happened to like the peace and quiet of the country and the music was killing the vibe. It got worse though when he took out his ZZ Top cd and replaced it with none other than Shania Twain. When 'Man I Feel Like A Woman' came on Horacio, Haukur and I couldn't take any more so we hopped the fence to play with the horses in the pasture.
An hour later, Javier was to drive us the 2 kilometers to where the bus was to pick us up, which was great becasue he had been drinking till 9 am and was drinking again on our front porch. But it wasn't far so we figured it was safe enough and we hopped in the back of his pickup truck and headed to our stop. After about 20
minutes a little white bus drove by, the same company we were to take, at exactly the time when we were to take it. The bus came by and continued on it's path without stopping. Nobody even thought twice about it. We continued to sit on our respective stumps, throwing bits of wood into puddles because our brains were too clouded for higher motor functions. 30 minutes passed without event when a thought suddenly occured to me."Do you guys think that was our bus?" I asked our team.
Everyone kinda stared at eachother for a good 15 seconds. "Yeaaaaa," responded everyone.
We sat for another 30 seco
nds pondering what it was we were to do. If nothing happened quickly we would miss our connecting bus in Córdoba and be stuck in the woods with Javier for another night. We had only one option, Javier had to drive us into town to the bus station and get everything sorted out. The only problem was that as we were sitting around waiting for our bus, Javier had been off to the side drinking Fernet and Coke with some friends that he ran into. We had no other options. We got into the back of his pickup truck and started our 10 km ride into town along a slick, freshly rained highway. Haukur had the good sense to get into the front where there was a seatbelt, while Finn, T Bone, Horacito and myself got stuck in the bed hanging on for dear life. As if it wasn't bad enough, righ
t before we hit the highway, Javier's friend pulls up beside the truck and hands Javier the Fernet and Coke, in case he gets thirsty on the ride home. We flew down the highway at 120 kmphr (kilometers per hour? Fucking metric system). We made it to the bus station in one piece, but my knuckles were white from hanging onto the truck.We got our tickets sorted out and ended up getting a better, more direct ride back to Buenos Aires. We had an hour to kill so we sat down in the cafeteria and got some pizza and water while Javier and his friends continued to drink standing over us. It was there that we met Carlos, the 7 foot tall, at least 300 pound drunk blind man who decided to top off the Oktoberfest celebration for us. Javier invited Carlos to come sit with the four of us and then subsequently left him with us as he headed back to his cabin. Ca
rlos was, as described before, enormous, and wore a complete set of navy blue sweats with matching T-shirt, which he was constantly using to wipe the sweat off of his mustache. He was probably one of the most digusting human beings I've ever seen, but God dammit he was entertaining. He would try and tell us everything he knew in English, which included singing Bon Jovi and Bruce Springsteen song, and famous quotes like "I'm sorry I am FAAAT!" or, "I like marajuana and women of the night." or my personal favorite, "My girlfriend is a fat prostitute." He asked us where we were from and when we told him we study in Buenos Aires he responded with, "I jerk off in Buenos Aires," which he followed by hawking a lougie and spitting it right on the floor. Oh Carlos, you made Córdoba wonderful. Fortunately our bus was ontime because after an hour with him it had gone past entertaining and was then annoying. We hopped on our bus and 12 hours later we were back in our wonderful beds in the Capital Federal. Epic.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Oktoberfest Day Three
Day Three. Waking up was a
little rough to say the least, although considering how much we drank it wasn't so bad. We needed some breakfast, and what do men eat for breakfast? Meat. Some of the guys headed into the grocery store to stock up on some dead cow while the rest of us sat and nursed our hangovers. We made a royal feast with chorizo, a ton of steak, and Finn made us some chocolate banana boats. We met our neighbors while we were cooking, they asked us to make some chicken patties for them, and we were glad we had kept our expectations low. Argentina is full of the sexiest women in the world, but unfortunately the cabin next to ours wasn't.
Finn, being old, needed a nap after th
at and Travis and I followed suit. Horacio and Haukur decided it was adventure time. Hopping over the fence into the field next to our cabin they headed into the wild. Horacio, who is more man than you even know, caught a horse with his belt and Haukur hopped on to get some good training in for this summer. He is now an official cowboy.
At around 5 in the afternoon the general consensus was to head back to the festival. I had to start my antibiotics, so drinking was not in the cards for me and was probably the only sober person in 100 kilometers that night. We crammed into a taxi the size of a old Honda Civic hatchback and made our way into town. We decided to wait to head into the main area and went to this little garden off to the side where Argentine biker guys with big beards were selling beer. The cool thing about this place is that it had a urinal that
started at waist level. You had to be at least 6'3" to pee in this thing, that is if you could pee with your dick pointing upwards while everyone was watching you. Finnur, the tallest of us succeeded in using it amidst the cheers and amazement of the spectators.
Once everyone was good and warmed up we headed into the main garden and immediately found our ladies where they had been the night before. The next few hours proceeded as the day before, drinking, watching Argentines try to pick up our blonde friends, and altogether madness. It was a lot different watching this whole spectacle from a sober perspective. Drunk people are silly. Especially Christina.
It was only when the night was dying down when the fun began. Around 1 am:
Haukur - "I'm drunk and I hate this and I want to be in my bed."
Travis - "I can't do it anymore, I will fall over if I drink more beer."
Horacio and Finn - "RAGE!"
I was sober and tired and decided it was time to head home as well so Haukur, Travis and myself made our way for the exit. They have a rule in Oktoberfest that you can't take the beer out of the designated area, and Haukur had a full beer. But rules don't apply to Haukur. An ambulance came through the gate and Haukur used it as his opportunity to get out. A cop tried to stop him and grabbed him by the arm but Haukur kept walking and simply told him to 'fuck off'. When we made our way out it was around 1:30 in the morning. The next 3 and a half hours proceeded like this:
- There are about 5 cabs in that little town so we walk to the end and try to hitchhike.
- One guy stops in the first 20 min but is heading in the other direction. No luck.
- Haukur is yelling what I assume are obsenities in Icelandic.
- We walk back into town to try and find a cab.
- Haukur passes out on the street.
- We give up on the cabs, not gonna happen, and head back out once again.
- Haukur loses his mug, there is anger in his eyes, he is cursing even more.
- I chase after Haukur who goes to look for his mug and come back to find Travis asleep holding on to a tree.
- We continue to try and hitchhike, Travis passes out with his thumb extended in the street.
- Run into Gavin, our Irish friend, and discover that Irish people are the greatest people in the world. Muy buena onda.
- I finally drag them up to the bus station to try one last time for a cab.
- Haukur "This is never going to work."
- 2 minutes later I had a cab.
- Haukur "Chris, I can't believe you did it."
- I save the day.
We arrive home around 5 am take 15 steps out of the cab and Travis starts to vomit all over the side of the cabin. I'd say it was a sucessful day.
little rough to say the least, although considering how much we drank it wasn't so bad. We needed some breakfast, and what do men eat for breakfast? Meat. Some of the guys headed into the grocery store to stock up on some dead cow while the rest of us sat and nursed our hangovers. We made a royal feast with chorizo, a ton of steak, and Finn made us some chocolate banana boats. We met our neighbors while we were cooking, they asked us to make some chicken patties for them, and we were glad we had kept our expectations low. Argentina is full of the sexiest women in the world, but unfortunately the cabin next to ours wasn't.Finn, being old, needed a nap after th
at and Travis and I followed suit. Horacio and Haukur decided it was adventure time. Hopping over the fence into the field next to our cabin they headed into the wild. Horacio, who is more man than you even know, caught a horse with his belt and Haukur hopped on to get some good training in for this summer. He is now an official cowboy.At around 5 in the afternoon the general consensus was to head back to the festival. I had to start my antibiotics, so drinking was not in the cards for me and was probably the only sober person in 100 kilometers that night. We crammed into a taxi the size of a old Honda Civic hatchback and made our way into town. We decided to wait to head into the main area and went to this little garden off to the side where Argentine biker guys with big beards were selling beer. The cool thing about this place is that it had a urinal that
started at waist level. You had to be at least 6'3" to pee in this thing, that is if you could pee with your dick pointing upwards while everyone was watching you. Finnur, the tallest of us succeeded in using it amidst the cheers and amazement of the spectators.Once everyone was good and warmed up we headed into the main garden and immediately found our ladies where they had been the night before. The next few hours proceeded as the day before, drinking, watching Argentines try to pick up our blonde friends, and altogether madness. It was a lot different watching this whole spectacle from a sober perspective. Drunk people are silly. Especially Christina.
It was only when the night was dying down when the fun began. Around 1 am:
Haukur - "I'm drunk and I hate this and I want to be in my bed."
Travis - "I can't do it anymore, I will fall over if I drink more beer."
Horacio and Finn - "RAGE!"
I was sober and tired and decided it was time to head home as well so Haukur, Travis and myself made our way for the exit. They have a rule in Oktoberfest that you can't take the beer out of the designated area, and Haukur had a full beer. But rules don't apply to Haukur. An ambulance came through the gate and Haukur used it as his opportunity to get out. A cop tried to stop him and grabbed him by the arm but Haukur kept walking and simply told him to 'fuck off'. When we made our way out it was around 1:30 in the morning. The next 3 and a half hours proceeded like this:
- There are about 5 cabs in that little town so we walk to the end and try to hitchhike.
- One guy stops in the first 20 min but is heading in the other direction. No luck.
- Haukur is yelling what I assume are obsenities in Icelandic.
- We walk back into town to try and find a cab.
- Haukur passes out on the street.
- We give up on the cabs, not gonna happen, and head back out once again.
- Haukur loses his mug, there is anger in his eyes, he is cursing even more.
- I chase after Haukur who goes to look for his mug and come back to find Travis asleep holding on to a tree.
- We continue to try and hitchhike, Travis passes out with his thumb extended in the street.
- Run into Gavin, our Irish friend, and discover that Irish people are the greatest people in the world. Muy buena onda.
- I finally drag them up to the bus station to try one last time for a cab.
- Haukur "This is never going to work."
- 2 minutes later I had a cab.
- Haukur "Chris, I can't believe you did it."
- I save the day.
We arrive home around 5 am take 15 steps out of the cab and Travis starts to vomit all over the side of the cabin. I'd say it was a sucessful day.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Oktoberfest Day Two
Saturday morning we rose early on our own around 10. We had had our fair share of tranquility and we were ready to drink. Only problem was that we were missing the other two memb
ers of the team. A taxi pulled up around 11 with the big cat from Iceland inside. Finnur, our faithful companion had arrived, ready to drink and toting a... hacky sac? Yes, a hacky sac. My stoner days had come full circle. I threw on Travis' Birkenstocks and got some good hackin' action in as we waited for our final teammate. Horacio arrived around noon, walking down the path, gear in hand. Apparently the Argentines don't get the full service because he had been dropped off 2 km back at the grocery store and had to walk his way in.
At this point Javier comes by and does his jive talk with Horacio and tells us that there are 4 girls that are arriving that day from Buenos Aires to stay in the cabin next to us. We didn't end up meeting them that day, we tried to keep our expectations low, but the girls being next door is an important fact to keep in mind for later on in the story.
It was time for some beer. Of course, we are too cool to be taking taxi's back and forth from town all the time, so we decided to get down with the people and take the colectivo into town. This was no colectiv
o like us city dwellers were used to. We crossed the river (literally had to walk across it) and walked down a series of dirt roads looking for where to take the bus. Passing by a number of half-built and delapidated houses we finally asked some locals where to catch it. They told us it comes down the 'avenue' every thirty minutes and all we had to do was wait on the corner of any of the streets. The 'avenue' was just the widest dirt road they had. At this point it was around noon and close to 90 degrees outside. We ended up waiting at the bus stop, which was next to the chicken coup, for about half an hour until we finally caught what would be the slowest bus of all time into town.
Now, I should mention that I had had an eye infection brewing for the previous two days. Thursday night the annoyance in my eye had turned into a stye, and by Saturday morning it was infected and looked like I had eaten a knuckle sandwich. Before the drinking was to begin I had to see a doctor. Problem was, I had forgotten my insurance in Buenos Aires. But wait, we are in Argentina where anything is possible. So of course when I arrived at a private clinic with Horacio, he simply used his insurance for me, and I got everything for free.
So the doctor told me that I had an infected stye and that it was time for some antibiotics to fix it up. The problem was, I couldn't drink. I had come all this way, 12 hours on a bus for a BEER festival, and this asshole thinks I'm not gonna drink any beer. No, no, no. My eye could wait. I put the medicine in my bag and went bought a beer. The cool thing was that you had to buy your own Stein to drink the beer out of so we each had our one liter mugs with us and a belt so we could wear them over our shoulders. We were strapped and ready to drink.
Entering the gates of the festival we come upon a huge open field with people everywhere, surrounded by a large stage with performances by ev
ery European dancing troupe in South America, and a beer tent from all the companies in the area. We did our initial scouting and headed for a tent. I had decided that I was gonna try all the weirdest beers I could find that day so I started with Strawberry. I bought a full liter. The first half was delicious. The second half was disgusting. One can only drink so much syrupy fruity beer. We all found a spot in the center of the beer garden and set up for the day. We had the stage on one side, and all the craziest assholes dancing on the other. It was the best day ever, everyone was friends and everyone wanted to celebrate the gift of beer.
Throughout the day I dra
nk a great red beer, a green beer, a honey flavored beer, and more beer, but after that I forgot what kinds and was just drinking whatever was in my glass. At around 6 in the evening, after a good 5 hours of hard drinking, rain drops started falling and in 2 minutes it was full blown pouring. We tried to get under a tarp with a bunch of people, but that just turned into a dance party so we figured it was better to just start taking off our clothes and dance in the rain. Problem was after about 20 minutes of being soaked to the bone, it got cold. Everyone headed into town to take refuge from the rain. In town Travis and I were reunited with some of our lovely ladies from school. The rain stopped and everyone headed back in where we found everyone else and the celebration continued. We were wet and cold but happy and together again. By this time in the evening my drunken state was beyond describing, and in between kissing every girl that I knew I was dancing like a madman in the rain. Unfortunately after another hour and a half the rain came back with a vengeanc
e and they had to shut down the tents. We tried taking refuge by holding tables and chairs over our heads but it was futile and we decided it best to head back to the cabin.
But before that we of course needed more beer. How much? Well as much as we could buy of course. We ended up buying another 10 liters and switched of struggling to carry our boxes full of goodies as we made our way through town. We walked to the edge of town where we met two guys that said they would drive us home. We figured this was a great idea in our state. Just get in a car with two strangers and let them drive you to your cabin in the middle of nowhere on wet country roads after drinking all day. Who needs good judgment when you have beer? We ended up getting home fine and the guys were really nice and we gave them cab fare. It was an early night, getting back around 11, had more beer and a smoke and we all slept soundly like little babies in our beds. Well that is until about 5 in the morning that is when the rain turned into hail. Hitting the tin roof over the cabin it sounded like bombs dropping, and it was at this point we all woke up and agreed that we were glad that we had decided to rent the cabin instead of camping in our tents.
ers of the team. A taxi pulled up around 11 with the big cat from Iceland inside. Finnur, our faithful companion had arrived, ready to drink and toting a... hacky sac? Yes, a hacky sac. My stoner days had come full circle. I threw on Travis' Birkenstocks and got some good hackin' action in as we waited for our final teammate. Horacio arrived around noon, walking down the path, gear in hand. Apparently the Argentines don't get the full service because he had been dropped off 2 km back at the grocery store and had to walk his way in.At this point Javier comes by and does his jive talk with Horacio and tells us that there are 4 girls that are arriving that day from Buenos Aires to stay in the cabin next to us. We didn't end up meeting them that day, we tried to keep our expectations low, but the girls being next door is an important fact to keep in mind for later on in the story.
It was time for some beer. Of course, we are too cool to be taking taxi's back and forth from town all the time, so we decided to get down with the people and take the colectivo into town. This was no colectiv
o like us city dwellers were used to. We crossed the river (literally had to walk across it) and walked down a series of dirt roads looking for where to take the bus. Passing by a number of half-built and delapidated houses we finally asked some locals where to catch it. They told us it comes down the 'avenue' every thirty minutes and all we had to do was wait on the corner of any of the streets. The 'avenue' was just the widest dirt road they had. At this point it was around noon and close to 90 degrees outside. We ended up waiting at the bus stop, which was next to the chicken coup, for about half an hour until we finally caught what would be the slowest bus of all time into town.Now, I should mention that I had had an eye infection brewing for the previous two days. Thursday night the annoyance in my eye had turned into a stye, and by Saturday morning it was infected and looked like I had eaten a knuckle sandwich. Before the drinking was to begin I had to see a doctor. Problem was, I had forgotten my insurance in Buenos Aires. But wait, we are in Argentina where anything is possible. So of course when I arrived at a private clinic with Horacio, he simply used his insurance for me, and I got everything for free.
So the doctor told me that I had an infected stye and that it was time for some antibiotics to fix it up. The problem was, I couldn't drink. I had come all this way, 12 hours on a bus for a BEER festival, and this asshole thinks I'm not gonna drink any beer. No, no, no. My eye could wait. I put the medicine in my bag and went bought a beer. The cool thing was that you had to buy your own Stein to drink the beer out of so we each had our one liter mugs with us and a belt so we could wear them over our shoulders. We were strapped and ready to drink.
Entering the gates of the festival we come upon a huge open field with people everywhere, surrounded by a large stage with performances by ev
ery European dancing troupe in South America, and a beer tent from all the companies in the area. We did our initial scouting and headed for a tent. I had decided that I was gonna try all the weirdest beers I could find that day so I started with Strawberry. I bought a full liter. The first half was delicious. The second half was disgusting. One can only drink so much syrupy fruity beer. We all found a spot in the center of the beer garden and set up for the day. We had the stage on one side, and all the craziest assholes dancing on the other. It was the best day ever, everyone was friends and everyone wanted to celebrate the gift of beer.Throughout the day I dra
nk a great red beer, a green beer, a honey flavored beer, and more beer, but after that I forgot what kinds and was just drinking whatever was in my glass. At around 6 in the evening, after a good 5 hours of hard drinking, rain drops started falling and in 2 minutes it was full blown pouring. We tried to get under a tarp with a bunch of people, but that just turned into a dance party so we figured it was better to just start taking off our clothes and dance in the rain. Problem was after about 20 minutes of being soaked to the bone, it got cold. Everyone headed into town to take refuge from the rain. In town Travis and I were reunited with some of our lovely ladies from school. The rain stopped and everyone headed back in where we found everyone else and the celebration continued. We were wet and cold but happy and together again. By this time in the evening my drunken state was beyond describing, and in between kissing every girl that I knew I was dancing like a madman in the rain. Unfortunately after another hour and a half the rain came back with a vengeanc
e and they had to shut down the tents. We tried taking refuge by holding tables and chairs over our heads but it was futile and we decided it best to head back to the cabin.But before that we of course needed more beer. How much? Well as much as we could buy of course. We ended up buying another 10 liters and switched of struggling to carry our boxes full of goodies as we made our way through town. We walked to the edge of town where we met two guys that said they would drive us home. We figured this was a great idea in our state. Just get in a car with two strangers and let them drive you to your cabin in the middle of nowhere on wet country roads after drinking all day. Who needs good judgment when you have beer? We ended up getting home fine and the guys were really nice and we gave them cab fare. It was an early night, getting back around 11, had more beer and a smoke and we all slept soundly like little babies in our beds. Well that is until about 5 in the morning that is when the rain turned into hail. Hitting the tin roof over the cabin it sounded like bombs dropping, and it was at this point we all woke up and agreed that we were glad that we had decided to rent the cabin instead of camping in our tents.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Oktoberfest Day One
Oktoberfest. Oktoberfest is what happens when you put 5 guys in a cabin for 4 days in the middle of nowhere, give them lots of beer and let them run free as nature intended. But what really happened? Everything that could have happened, did. Everything that could have gone wrong, went wrong. We were stranded in the dim world of drinking, debauchery, Javier, and Carlos.
The Characters:
Christopher Brendan - The moderately sexy one, there's more to this guy than his dashing good looks. Some say he has a way with words, others call him a bullshitter. Chris tends to get into trouble by running his mouth to much, usually to the benefit of the other members of the group.
Haukur - The silent, mysterious one. Haukur plays it cool, well at least until he has 6 beers in him. Everyone knows that he is the true brains behind the whole operation. His underwear also says "Mr. Big" on it.
Travis - This big guy is all about fun. Never a care in the world, he can snap better than your mother could 30 years ago. He's a dancing queen and has no qualms about breaking it out anywhere, anytime.
Horacio - The Argentine member of our group. He keeps us in check with the Argentine culture, and he can catch horses with his bare hands. Watch out ladies, if he can do that, you better believe he could lasso you into bed.
Finnur - One guy from Iceland is a party, but two is a God Damn celebration. The big daddy of our group. Finnur, 31, can drink like a 25 year old, but unfortunately the effects of the hangover hit his old bones a little harder. He also cooks a mean breakfast of the saltiest rice and corn you will ever sink your teeth into.
On Thursday, October 9th the first part of the group which included Travis, Haukur, and myself, hopped on a bus for Villa General Belgrano, the home of the German beer festival in Argentina. We hopped on the semi-cama bus (we are, after all, men) close to ten o'clock that evening prepared for a 11 hour bus ride. Every country outside of the US has a fantastic bus system. If you have ever ridden on our Greyhound then you would understand that it just doesn't compare. Haukur was asleep in literally 10 minutes, and was out the entire ride. I settled in a watched out the window, the first time I had had a chance to see any countryside in 3 months. Dozing in and out throughout the night, we eventually arrived at around 9:30 in the morning.
After a good stretch we strolled through the town, not a soul in sight. Everyone was still sleeping off the drinking from the day before. The town looked so clean and quiet, not like we would come to know it in the next couple of days. After 10 minutes in the town one could tell that it has built it's entire economy off of this festival. The place is made for tourists, full of stores with little trinkets that you should be finding in Germany. Walking in the tourism office we come upon 2 Argentine women dressed up in little German outfits, like every sterotype you have ever seen of German girls. This is the formula...
1) Argentine women, probably the sexiest in the world.
+
2) Sexy little German fantasy outfit.
=
3) Erection.
We stocked up on the necessary
supplies. Meat, bread, cheese (with holes), beer, and headed to our cabin. Our team did not actually stay in Villa General Belgrano, we had a cabin situated 10 km outside in a little place called Villa Ciudad Parque. We drove down a bumpy dirt road until we came upon our home for the next couple of days. Our cabin, one of three in the area consisted of a front porch with a table, a living area/kitchen in the main room, a bathroom, and a bedroom with 3 beds.
Now would be a good time to describe Javier, the manager of our delightful cabin. Javier, from Cordoba, came up and introduced himself when we arrived and seemed like a really awesome guy. He showed us our cabin, gave us a run down of how everything worked, and told us that if we needed anything, all we had to do was ask. Throughout the day he was nice enough to tell us where the 'grocery store' was, where we could swim in the river, and even brought us some stuff to help us with our asado. What a nice guy Javier is. But wait, is he? No. Throughout the weekend we discovered that living out in the middle of nowhere too long makes you fucking weird. He also almost killed us. I'll get to that later.
We threw our packs down on the floor, stepped outside and listened. We heard nothing. Absolutely nothing. After three months in Buenos Aires where the noise of colectivos, people, and dogs never ceases, we were in Heaven. We had a breakfast that consisted of salami and cheese sandwiches, bananas, and beer. For the next hour we sat on the front porch staring at each other. I think we said less than 50 words. We were full of bliss. Slowly, somehow we all shifted into the living room, Haukur and myself on the daybed and Travis on the floor. In 10 minutes we were all asleep. Eventually Travis and I moved to our respective bunks, and we took the nap of all naps. The Cordoba nap. There was no alarm clocks, nothing to wake up too, we slept in the pure happiness of not having any responsibilities.
We woke with a hunger in our bellies and headed to the shop for some meat. Along the way we met Frank. He was a real swell guy. Never said too much and was always down for hanging out. Frank would keep us company whenever we needed some supplies. Back at the cabin a couple of beer bottles and 3 pounds of meat later, we had some time to kill before we started cooking so Haukur decided it would be a good idea to climb the water tower. Haukur, when it comes to climbing shit is basically an albino monkey. Making up to the top, it was Travis and I's turn to try. This is the point where I learned that limberness is not one of my foremost qualities, being blessed with more of a stocky build. I stayed at the bottom while the other two talked about the awesome view, or whatever.
Travis, our good southern boy, took
over the cooking and made us some of the best chori and steak that has graced my taste buds. We drank, ate, and told embarrassing stories. Suddenly, Haukur looks up, and in the most nonchalant manner one can say it, he says, "Hey, there's a wolf." Turning around Travis and I discover there is indeed a wolf behind us. Well, it was a dog, but in our drunken state we thought for about a minute that he was a wolf. Wolf dog was cool, we gave him some meat bones and he went on his way. We finished a couple more liters of beer and hit the sack around 10 o'clock, concluding one the most peaceful days of our lives.
The Characters:
Christopher Brendan - The moderately sexy one, there's more to this guy than his dashing good looks. Some say he has a way with words, others call him a bullshitter. Chris tends to get into trouble by running his mouth to much, usually to the benefit of the other members of the group.
Haukur - The silent, mysterious one. Haukur plays it cool, well at least until he has 6 beers in him. Everyone knows that he is the true brains behind the whole operation. His underwear also says "Mr. Big" on it.
Travis - This big guy is all about fun. Never a care in the world, he can snap better than your mother could 30 years ago. He's a dancing queen and has no qualms about breaking it out anywhere, anytime.
Horacio - The Argentine member of our group. He keeps us in check with the Argentine culture, and he can catch horses with his bare hands. Watch out ladies, if he can do that, you better believe he could lasso you into bed.
Finnur - One guy from Iceland is a party, but two is a God Damn celebration. The big daddy of our group. Finnur, 31, can drink like a 25 year old, but unfortunately the effects of the hangover hit his old bones a little harder. He also cooks a mean breakfast of the saltiest rice and corn you will ever sink your teeth into.
On Thursday, October 9th the first part of the group which included Travis, Haukur, and myself, hopped on a bus for Villa General Belgrano, the home of the German beer festival in Argentina. We hopped on the semi-cama bus (we are, after all, men) close to ten o'clock that evening prepared for a 11 hour bus ride. Every country outside of the US has a fantastic bus system. If you have ever ridden on our Greyhound then you would understand that it just doesn't compare. Haukur was asleep in literally 10 minutes, and was out the entire ride. I settled in a watched out the window, the first time I had had a chance to see any countryside in 3 months. Dozing in and out throughout the night, we eventually arrived at around 9:30 in the morning.
After a good stretch we strolled through the town, not a soul in sight. Everyone was still sleeping off the drinking from the day before. The town looked so clean and quiet, not like we would come to know it in the next couple of days. After 10 minutes in the town one could tell that it has built it's entire economy off of this festival. The place is made for tourists, full of stores with little trinkets that you should be finding in Germany. Walking in the tourism office we come upon 2 Argentine women dressed up in little German outfits, like every sterotype you have ever seen of German girls. This is the formula...
1) Argentine women, probably the sexiest in the world.
+
2) Sexy little German fantasy outfit.
=
3) Erection.
We stocked up on the necessary
supplies. Meat, bread, cheese (with holes), beer, and headed to our cabin. Our team did not actually stay in Villa General Belgrano, we had a cabin situated 10 km outside in a little place called Villa Ciudad Parque. We drove down a bumpy dirt road until we came upon our home for the next couple of days. Our cabin, one of three in the area consisted of a front porch with a table, a living area/kitchen in the main room, a bathroom, and a bedroom with 3 beds.Now would be a good time to describe Javier, the manager of our delightful cabin. Javier, from Cordoba, came up and introduced himself when we arrived and seemed like a really awesome guy. He showed us our cabin, gave us a run down of how everything worked, and told us that if we needed anything, all we had to do was ask. Throughout the day he was nice enough to tell us where the 'grocery store' was, where we could swim in the river, and even brought us some stuff to help us with our asado. What a nice guy Javier is. But wait, is he? No. Throughout the weekend we discovered that living out in the middle of nowhere too long makes you fucking weird. He also almost killed us. I'll get to that later.
We threw our packs down on the floor, stepped outside and listened. We heard nothing. Absolutely nothing. After three months in Buenos Aires where the noise of colectivos, people, and dogs never ceases, we were in Heaven. We had a breakfast that consisted of salami and cheese sandwiches, bananas, and beer. For the next hour we sat on the front porch staring at each other. I think we said less than 50 words. We were full of bliss. Slowly, somehow we all shifted into the living room, Haukur and myself on the daybed and Travis on the floor. In 10 minutes we were all asleep. Eventually Travis and I moved to our respective bunks, and we took the nap of all naps. The Cordoba nap. There was no alarm clocks, nothing to wake up too, we slept in the pure happiness of not having any responsibilities.
We woke with a hunger in our bellies and headed to the shop for some meat. Along the way we met Frank. He was a real swell guy. Never said too much and was always down for hanging out. Frank would keep us company whenever we needed some supplies. Back at the cabin a couple of beer bottles and 3 pounds of meat later, we had some time to kill before we started cooking so Haukur decided it would be a good idea to climb the water tower. Haukur, when it comes to climbing shit is basically an albino monkey. Making up to the top, it was Travis and I's turn to try. This is the point where I learned that limberness is not one of my foremost qualities, being blessed with more of a stocky build. I stayed at the bottom while the other two talked about the awesome view, or whatever.
Travis, our good southern boy, took
over the cooking and made us some of the best chori and steak that has graced my taste buds. We drank, ate, and told embarrassing stories. Suddenly, Haukur looks up, and in the most nonchalant manner one can say it, he says, "Hey, there's a wolf." Turning around Travis and I discover there is indeed a wolf behind us. Well, it was a dog, but in our drunken state we thought for about a minute that he was a wolf. Wolf dog was cool, we gave him some meat bones and he went on his way. We finished a couple more liters of beer and hit the sack around 10 o'clock, concluding one the most peaceful days of our lives.Tuesday, August 19, 2008
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