The Hills Have Eyes.
Sierra De La Ventana, Argentina. 29/11/08
An evening of lager and cigarettes at a pavement table near, if not quite in, some mountains. How ineffably winsome! I hear you respond. And it is, despite these facts:
1. I am sitting 12 breezy feet away from the largest wind-chimes I have ever seen;
2. The wind-chime shop is playing, over the wind-chimes themselves, the most self-harmingly funereal Scott Walker CD I have ever heard;
3. In my other ear the restaurant is countering with some extremely disappointing disco covers of all your New Romantic favourites.
Bahia Blanca, Argentina. 3/12/08.
The flush on the single gentleman's lavatory in the North-Western, BB's finest bar, gave out an hour ago. Still no-one has, er, unpacked their shopping, but it can only be a matter of time. Unlike most Argentinians, I prefer to drink beer in quantity rather than savouring each pathetic sip and sodding off home after stringing out 1 bottle of lager for 2 hours, so my chances of stumbling on a toilet-full of Tuesday's lunch are significantly higher than most. Luckily my resolve in these matters is unmatched.
I've endured 2 nights in the Hotel Chiclana's Coffin Suite*, a windowless box big enough for a single bed, with a shared fright-bog down the hall. Cheap though. Now I've cracked and moved to a twice-the-price room with - hey! - a window. A view of a brick wall 4 feet away never looked so enticing.
Las Grutas, Argentina. 8/12/08.
Las Grutas is the most perfect little beach resort this side of Zanzibar, and it's not in the Lonely Planet book so get your skates on.
I arrive here from the 2008 Horizons Unlimited meeting in Viedma. Itīs a feast for the eyes, an all-you-can-eat buffet for the ears, a salty snack for the fingertips, a pop-tart for the tastebuds and - quite naturally - a crap in a bun for the nose. If you like dirty motorbikes with bits hanging off them, loud throbbing noises, beer, meat and lavatorial cliffhangers, it's paradise. I do - and if you don't, fair enough. Perhaps you prefer sauntering through meadows bursting with wildflowers, or cultivating pansies in your greenhouse. That's cool. Some people like dressing up as girls and rifling through Mummy's make-up bag. No problem! Each to their own, I say.
Puerto San Julian, Argentina. 13/12/08.
The waitress in Restaurante D'Angela is sweet like a peach and sexy like a cheetah. She brings the total number of waitresses-slash-barmaids I have fallen deeply and temporarily in love with to 10,000. She looks like a 22 year old Helena Bonham Carter without the hedge-style eyebrows or humming lunacy.
New Business Ideas 1: Make-up for Pets.
Cat lipstick! Dog blusher! Oh come on!
*No actual air is permitted either to enter or to leave the room. By Order.
Posted by Simon Fitzpatrick at December 22, 2008 08:28 PM GMT