Argentina, the land of football, steak and red wine - with that in hand I was sure that I was going to enjoy being there. Argentina's a big place (maybe not quite as big as Slough though) and once again we had a lot of ground to cover and precious little time to do it. The answer? Buses. And lots of them.

We rolled across the border from Chile into a town called Bariloche that promised good walks, stunning scenery and a hint of the Switzerland, being a Swiss colony. Upon arrival the combination did not disappoint and the town had an almost ski-resort type of vibe, with cabin style housing and boutique shops set beside a lake in the mountains. After stepping off the bus we headed to our hostel and settled quickly. Luckily for us our hostel was run by a guy called Pablo, who aside from being an incredibly friendly and chatty chap, was also kind enough to go through a list of enticing activities that we could do for free or for very little money - excellent news for travellers on a budget! For the rest of the day we explored the town, taking in the atmosphere, and of course we had to work out where we could purchase a bottle of that world famous Malbec that we'd been drooling over before arrival - it didn't take us long to find a bottle...

On our second day in Bariloche we decided to get active and climb a nearby hill that overlooked the town and lake. Although it was a sweltering day we enjoyed making our way from the hostel, up a nearby street and along a dusty track that meandered up the hillside. As we reached the summit we marvelled over the views and relaxed on a bench in a nice garden area. On the way back down we changed our route a little and worked our way through some tended gardens, past picnicking locals, and on back into town. Fully satisfied with our first trek in Argentina we rewarded ourselves that evening with a taste of home: beef stew with a bottle of the local stout...delicious! Unfortunately, the activity we had planned for the following day was not so successful. Due to rain stopping play we had to cancel our planned cycle trip around a supposedly beautiful circuit some 10km from town and instead spent most of the day reading and relaxing. Come evening time we decided to make up for our lack of activity during the day by allowing ourselves to be dragged out to a bar by an English girl called Kim, where we met an extremely chatty and charismatic older American gent called Tom. After sinking a couple of bottles of Torrontes, we headed on to a jazz club, drank more wine and toe tapped the evening away. As we staggered out of the club and back towards our hostel we noticed that we were being escorted by 5 or 6 stray dogs. They followed our every step, flanking us on either side, along the several streets we traversed and then up the drive way and to the door of our hostel where they about turned when we were safely inside. It seems that even the local fauna is quite keen to see that tourists get home safely after a night out and I really wasn´t sure whether or not I should have tipped them.

The following day we got up early and whilst nursing our slightly fragile heads we made off on a trek up a mountain to Refugio Frey, some rustic accommodation on the side of a mountain. It´s possible to stay at the Refugio for the night, but since time was tight we planned to do the return trip that same day. Armed with directions from Pablo we hiked along a winding track, over rivers, through forests and scrambled over giant rocks until we reached the refugio. It was a great setting as we sat by a green lake in a crater on the mountain side eating our packed lunch and watching rock climbers haul themselves up the rocks above us. The surroundings were quite something - the terrain was rough and jagged - very different from other places we had seen. After relaxing for an hour or so we made our way back down and back towards the hostel. It was a cracking day and we chilled out in the evening in preparation for another days travel.

The stunning reputation of Buenos Aires as a swinging Latin American capital, with a subtle blend of nightlife and culture, was more than enough to get us excited on our 23 hour bus journey across a land mass that is roughly equal to the size of India. The city itself is split into some pretty distinct and well defined regions; San Telmo to the South struts a bohemian vibe, Recoleta to the North is the fancy part of town, Palermo in the North West is an eclectic mix of boutique shops and nice restaurants and bars, while Centro, which is surprisingly located in the middle of it all is quite Urban and functional, but does contain many of the City's historic and political building. Our hostel was located in Centro, and although less glamorous, it serves as a great jumping off point for pretty much any part of the city. Once we'd arrived in town we quickly headed out to find food and to soak up some of the Latin fever. We explored San Telmo at length and enjoyed a quick bite to eat before walking the length of a long pedestrianised street that contained many street sellers as music pumped from every other store. It was a little brash, but the electric buzz that Buenos Aires promised was alive and kicking from word go. We retired relatively early and the following day we decided to tread familiar ground and head back to San Telmo since there was a street market running through the area. In truth there was a lot of tourist tat on offer, but since this trip is mostly about food for me I am happy to report that we stumbled upon a street barbeque, the aroma of which took my breath away, where we gorged on fine spicy sausages in a roll topped off with lashings of chimichurri, a spicy South American salsa. As we moved on between the stores we were happy to stumble upon a square at the far end of the market where amateur tango dancers were strutting there stuff to some live music. The whole area had a great vibe and we quickly decided that we liked this part of town. That evening we were once again in bed at a reasonable hour and I think the three other English guys in our room that were out until all hours every night were beginning to realise that we were not in their league.

The next day we got chatting to a nice English chap called Tom and after breakfast we decided to team up to explore a little further afield. We walked through some pretty hot heat to Recoleta, where we were promised a famous cemetery where Evita was laid to rest. As we arrived, extremely hot and sweaty, we were greeted by a women dressed in all her finery, who in her best English accent tried to sell us a map. The real problem was not that we had no interest in buying a map, but more in the fact that her fake English accent was so hilarious that we couldn't quite focus on pushing past her and into the cemetery; it was like she was attempting to request high tea in a fancy hotel in London but was getting it all wrong and Kate was convinced that she was mimicking a drunk Esther Ransen. Eventually we battled through and wondered amongst the mausoleums desperately trying to find Evita but to no avail. It was getting hot and no matter how many excited groups of tourists that we followed we ended up no closer to own goal. Tired, hungry and defeated we headed off to get some lunch, maybe we should have bought that map... The rest of the day we continued to walk northward to the botanic garden, which was undeniably rubbish and full of stray cats, and round to an air conditioned mall for a coffee and some respite. It was there that we decided to get tickets for a percussion show that recommended to us by Pablo in Bariloche and was taking place that evening. We left the mall, trotted a few blocks through intermittent grand and then incredibly rough looking streets (as seemed to be a theme in BA) and onwards to the venue. When inside we quickly purchased large beers, chatted away to Tom about music and life and then enjoyed an exhilarating, if not a little bit lengthy, percussion show that involved about 20 guys hammering away on slightly different drums with the accompaniment of a guitar and singer at certain points. It was a cracking spectacle and after this we wondered through the streets, stopping off for some red wine and more chat in a quite bar, and then onwards back to our hostel. Once there we enjoyed another bottle and toyed with the idea of hitting a club - it was however getting on towards 4am and we were feeling tired so we decided to give it a miss. We did however sneak upstairs to our room, feeling smug that we weren't going to be the first ones in bed that night, only to find that the English guys were still on the town. Foiled again.

Our final two days in the Capital were much the same as the others; we wondered the streets exploring parts of town that we had not yet got around to and generally wiped ourselves out taking on too many miles in the blistering heat. We sampled some exquisite steak alongside a questionable jar of 'house red' at one of the more quirky restaurants in town, took a trip to Boca to see the quite wonderful old style coloured housing and joined a Boca Juniors stadium tour (which was terrible as you weren't actually allowed to go anywhere interesting), spent time sat in a peaceful square with a beer chatting and admiring some locals tango dancing once more, and walked along a picturesque riverside desperately trying to hunt down a spot for a drink that wouldn´t require an amount of cash that would buy a house back home. Our only regret was that we found the charismatic streets of Palermo a little too late (on the final afternoon) but concluded that we probably couldn´t really afford to bask in its cafe culture anyway. Our time in Buenos Aires was enjoyable but not entirely satisfying all in all; there is much to explore and the place has a great vibe, but we couldn´t help thinking that it was a little too European for what we wanted from South America, and the place was a little too reliant on nightlife alone.

After a little reflection and another 24 hour bus, we arrived into a sleepy little town called Puerto Iguazu. The name of the place probably gives away exactly what we were doing there, and in all honesty there was not much else to do but visit the falls. On day one we got up early and excitedly headed to the falls. Iguazu falls are situated on the border between Argentina and Brazil, in a rather inconvenient jut of land that curls its way around Paraguay (especially if your next destination is Bolivia). Before arrival we were considering doing both sides of the falls, but we quickly gave this idea up when we realised that a) its pretty expensive to visit and, b) the Brazil side is miles away from the actually site and most of the visit is a simple panoramic view. The Argentinean side however is absolutely breathtaking. You can walk around the falls, along walkways that travel right up to the gushing water and along and over the river to a point at the top where the water tumbles down and over the rocks. We had an amazing day viewing the water from every conceivable angle and more than once got absolutely soaked in the mist of the falls as it fell from great heights. I can thoroughly recommend a visit here and it was one of the best natural features I have ever seen. The rest of our brief stay in Iguazu consisted of trotting around the few streets that made up the town and we particularly enjoyed a walk the ended at a confluence of the river where the three bits of land separated by water belonged to three different countries and on each bank the stood a pillar decorated with the colours of each national flag. Each evening we also enjoyed the local bar scene and chatted to some fellow British travellers we had met in out hostel. One evening in particular took the top award as not only did we find a backstreet dining area where locals sipped on good wine, but we also managed to park ourselves next to some local ladies who were engaged in some sort of fracas; although our Spanish had not yet reached the level of insulting rants we came to the conclusion that they were arguing about who liked potatoes more - ahem, back to the phrase book again I think.

Our final stop in Argentina was more about convenience than desire as we needed to round the little jut of land that is Paraguay in order to get to Bolivia and the journey was just too long, even for us, to bite off in a single go. The city that we had the misfortune of ending up in was Salta, which promised much in The Lying Planet but failed to deliver on all counts. The place was pretty dull and, for its size, jammed pack full of people and cars. We did very little of note there, except gorge on cheap pizza and other local takes on well known food and notice that things were getting a little more ´indigenous´ as we got closer to the border. Salta did win one award though, the locals did take the award for the most ridiculous laid back South American style living as during one of our early afternoon walks we noticed a sign on a cafe that said ´closed for lunch´. My word. On our final evening in Argentina we grabbed one last steak dinner and bottle of wine and prepared ourselves for an extremely early start indeed. We were to head across the border via foot, bus and train into yet another unknown land.

Until next time,

Alan and Kate x