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According to local legend, the Iguazu Falls originated when an Indian warrior named Caroba incurred the wrath of the Forest God by escaping downriver in a canoe with a young girl, Naipur, a hot chick with whom the God had a bit of a crush on. As you can imagine Mr Forest God was just a tad pissed off at the audacious couple. He caused the riverbed to collapse in front of the lovers, producing a line of precipitous falls over which Naipur fell and, at their base turned into a rock – fair punishment for being a dirty slut I reckon.
However it was formed Iguazu Falls is one of the most awe-inspiring sites I´ve ever been to. Set split between Brazil and Argentina the falls lie smack bang in a huge national park about 20 mins from the Argentinian town of Puerto Iguazu.
Getting to the falls is quite easy. You can either catch a bus or get a ride with a local taxi driver. The ride is free as long as the driver accompanies you when you buy the entry ticket. I think they must get some sort of a kickback much like the tuk tuk drivers of Bangkok.
There are actually a number of water falls making up Iguazu and it took us over half the day to walk the various upper and lower access trails. We also took a speed boat tour which took us right up to the falls. That ride was insane. The sound and power of the water was incredible, like being in the most power cyclone imaginable. The ride had such an enchanting effect on us turning grown men into screaming kids, laughing and giggle as the water fell from the above event horizon absolutely drenching us.
It was such a great day. Seeing the falls up close and personal is a jaw dropping, visceral experience and the power and noise of the massive cascades will live forever in our memory.
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- The view from the upper trail
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- The view from our boat
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- The view from the lower trail
I love food. I love the stories behind the cuisines, I love learning about the steps involved in growing, harvesting and preparing the ingredients and most of all, I love how it enthralls my senses and always leaves me wishing I could fit in just a bit more. For a mad foodie like me Argentina is heaven and below are just some of the great gastronomical delights I’ve discovered here.
Beef
Argentines eat more beef than any other nation on earth (approx 70kgs per capita). Parrillas (steak houses) are everywhere and all of them serve up big juicy cuts at unbelievable prices. We ate at a parrilla at least 6 out of the 10 nights we were in Buenos Aires and I was not disappointed once. My favourite is the bife de chorizo, punto (a thick cut of sirloin, medium).
Other than steak you can try the mixed grill. But order it at your own risk because along with ribs and steak there are also usually plenty of lovely offal thrown in. They’re tasty but I have strong suspicions our last meal contained a testicle or two.
Me at El 22 Parrilla in Palermo
Mate
When we first arrive in BA I kept seeing people walking around with a small ornate gourd with a silver straw sticking out of the top. At first I thought these crazy hippies were smoking a big pipe or something but then I realised they were actually drinking mate.
Pronounced (mah-tay) this stuff is the Argentinian national drink. It is the dried chopped leaf of the liex paraguayensis plant and is also known as the Paraguayan tea (I had to look that up).
A fellow traveller offered me some at our hostel in Palermo and I have to say, it is an acquired tastes. But apparently it’s an excellent diuretic and are packed full of antioxidants. I reckon given all the bulls testicles I’ve eaten I need some antioxidants to detox myself.
Mate
Alfajores
The story goes that the origins of this treat comes from Arabia and reached popularity in Spain during Columbus time. Here in Argentina the tradition has been kept for over 130 years.
Apparently it was introduced in Argentina in 1896 by a French chemist named Don Augusto Chammas who set up a candy factory where he came up with the formula of two baked sweet biscuits joined together with a filling and covered with chocolate. He called it Alfajores and it was a hit.
I don´t know what you think but I reckon this Alfajores is just a round rip-off of our Aussie Tim Tam. A French chemist Don Augusto Chammas my arse!
The Alfajores we had on our plane
Dulce de Leche
If Alfajores are to Argentina what Tim Tams are to Australia then dulce de leche is their vegemite. But instead of a salty yeast spread dulce de leche is sweet, caramelly and delicious.
Argentinians don’t eat much breakfast (probably because they’re out partying too late) so instead of bacon and eggs they usually just munch on a croissant or two to start their day. Croissants go perfectly with a generous spread of dulce de leche. I’ve had it every day that I’ve been here and I think it’s gonna be tough going back to butter on toast and soggy corn flakes.
My morning spread
These are just some of the yummy delights I’ve grown to love here in Argentina. It’s probably a good thing we’re leaving in a few days because this place is really growing on me. And me? Well I’m just growing, and growing…
It’s true, the clubs in Buenos Aires don’t get going until at least 3am. What is wrong with these Porteños, don’t they have to work?
It’s a Thursday and we were keen to check out this city’s nightlife. The receptionist at our hostel recommended a Hip Hop club called Lost and gave us free tickets. SWEEEEET! ¨But don’t go there before 3am¨, he said, ¨us Porteños party hard, the clubs here start late and finish later¨.
To kill time we had dinner at a rather posh Parrilla (steak house) just outside the main Palermo square. We ordered the mix grill and salad to share and also had a nice bottle of local Syrah. I’ve tried a lot of steaks from all around the world and consider myself a bit of a meat and wine connoisseur. And I have to say the meat we had that night was superb and the wine matched the succulent melt-in-your-mouth steak and ribs perfectly. And the meal costed only 80 pesos (AUD$23) each, unbelievable!
We finished our meal at 10.30pm. Still too early for Lost but late enough to begin the toxification process. ¨Vodka shots?¨ Someone suggested. There was a moment of hesitation and deliberation then the three of us cocked our elbows, steadied our aim and down the fish bowl sized glass of Absolute in one gulp.
I felt the warm gushing after effects straight away as the triple distilled liquor hit my central nervous system like a tsunami. That shot was the beginning of the end for me.
I had no idea when we arrived at Lost but I do remember the club was almost empty when we first arrived. The place wasn’t huge, it had a good sized bar on the right, an indented (almost stadium like) dance floor in the middle surrounded by railings and steps and a huge DJ booth at the end with the words Hip Hop Culture Club continuously pulsating in big bold letters.
Ok, this is how things work at Lost. At the beginning of the night, only a few select individuals actually danced. They occupied the outside perimeters the dance floor doing stretches and every now and then one of them would go in and do a routine that lasted no more than a minute then vacate the space for the next dancer. People who got there early sat around the dance floor and watched the mesmerising performances. As the club got more and more packed, more and more people surrounded the dance floor, still only one person danced in the middle but the circle got smaller and smaller. This went on until about 3.30am when the dance floor reached saturation point and then the club exploded with everyone dancing and bouncing to the funky beats.
I watched the acrobatic routines from the sidelines along with everyone else. I wanted to jump in and bust out the robot (and trust me if I had a few more drinks in me I would have) but then I probably would have also gotten stabbed so it was a good idea that I kept robo-Bill in the bag and lived to dance another day.
I wish I could write more about what went down but to be honest I don’t remember. They free pour their drinks here so after countless vodka and RedBulls I was a wasted slobbering mess. ¨How do these crazy Porteños do it?¨ I kept thinking to myself, ¨don’t these people have to work?¨
The Lost dancers
Mix together a beautiful European-like city with attractive residents (who call themselves porteños). Add a healthy dose of gourmet cuisine, great shopping and top it all off with a generous serving of a frenzied nightlife and what do you get? Delicious Buenos Aires.
We’ve only been here for a few days and I’m already in love with this city. It has all the right ingredients: beautiful architecture, wide avenues, parks and of course attractive people. Unlike other parts of South America, Porteños are mostly descendents of Spanish and Italian immigrant. Almost all of them are tanned, fashion conscious and have a firey passion for life. In other words, HOT!
Our hostel is in Palermo, a suburb just outside of the city centre. It’s dotted with boutique shops, cafes, parks and terrace houses and reminds me a lot of Sydney’s Paddington. I couldn’t believe it when I read Buenos Aires has 12.5 million residents because it doesn’t feel crowded at all. Walking around Palermo is a relaxing and chilled out experience.
We’re in BA for 10 days and on the top of our to do list is to indulge in plenty of steak and vino and fully immerse ourselves in the city’s nightlife. So far on this trip we’ve kept our partying to a minimum but I think that’ll all change now we’re in this crazy town.
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- Rose Garden in Palermo
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- Plaza de la Reublica
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- Congreso Nacional
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- Puerto Madero
I would like to take this opportunity to retract my earlier comment about how stupid it is to book ahead. I now think it’s a great idea to arrive with a booking because if you don’t you’re essentially gambling on the chance of being homeless in a foreign city. A gamble that you WILL eventually lose.
We arrived in Buenos Aires on Friday night. A friend we bumped into the previous night in Lima (small world) recommended we stay in a hostel called Millhouse Avenue in Microcentro (BA’s CBD). Armed with that and a few other addresses we wrote down from Hostel World we felt confident we’d get a good deal at a good place. After all we’re hustlers, what can go wrong?
Well, Millhouse Avenue was fully booked. In fact it seemed every hostel in Buenos Aires was fully booked.
We spent the next 2 hours cabing around the city looking for a place to sleep. Eventually we stumbled across a hostel in Palmero called Giramondo with a spare 4 bedder dorm.
It was our first dorm experience and we bunked up next to a creepy Israeli named Mawro. Mawro was big, hairy and extremely suspicious of us. Every time he came into the room I could see his eyes darting across in a frenzied fashion, at his stuff then at us.
Personal opinion, but there’s a good chance Mr. Mawro is a Mossad Nazi hunter. He walked with the stealth of a ninja and had this aura of confidence rooted in the knowledge that if we messed with him in any way he had the training to kill all three of us in a single blow.
Now surely after that traumatic ordeal we would have learned our lesson. Nope, not us. We looked God (who was standing behind the karma counter) straight in the eye and asked him to super-size another serving of drama.
After our night with the Israeli assassin we moved to a comfortable 3 bedder (with AC) just down the road. But instead of booking it for our remaining 7 nights we only booked it for 2. Why? Because we’re hustlers and there’s gotta be a better deal out there, right?
WRONG. There’s nothing out there. So here we are wandering the streets of BA looking for a home. I just hope we find something soon.
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- Hostel Giramondo
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- The hottest room in the world
