Not terribly much happening over the last 24 hours. Went to dinner last night, and ate some delicious “Little Goat”, accompanied by a bottle of red wine. Now I believe I told him I wanted a small one (thinking I would get a glass), but received a normal 750ml bottle. Am intrigued as to what a big one is.
Afterwards, went to the Irish Pub (called, “Irish Pub”) – to see if there was a faint chance of them playing the NZ-England cricket game. Got there, realised nobody spoke the Inglis, and had a bottle of beer by myself. Got home at 2am, and discovered that I was the first in my hostel room (of 8), if not the entire hostel.
An interesting situation at about 4am when three girls came home, one wearing a very short skirt, and spent some time standing in front of my bunk trying to close the window. I was sleeping, or pretending to be, on the bottom bunk – trying not to be too much of a pervert. Similar situation this morning, when they got up to leave.
Anyway – I guess the big invisible guy who lives in the sky thought that I hadn´t closed my eyes quickly enough, or for long enough, and it was raining when I got up. I had, however, decided to leave (sick of the debauchery). I underestimated the argentinean rain though. Used to NZ, I was expecting it to only last a while – as it didn´t seem heavy. I was drenched in 10 minutes, as it was deceptively heavy. I stopped, had breakfast, and tried to figure out what to do.
Plan: try to find pub playing cricket. If can´t, go to hostel with free wine – see if they´ve got any vacancies today. If not, go to bus station – and get out of town.
Irish Pub was closed as I walked past. Went to the hostel which advertises having free wine. Told they were full, and door shut in my face by worker. Owner came out, and apologised. Invited me in to dry off. Seemed bemused about my plan. Told me of a pub called “Pub Liverpool”. I kinda backtracked a bit to go there. Sure enough, an english-styled pub. But nobody who speaks the Inglis, and I wasn´t about to try to demonstrate “Cricket”.
To bus station. Very very wet. Bought a ticket to Malargue, supposed to have some awesome scenery about, and then an irish coffee. Caught my bus, and drove through some very large plains. Watched Pearl Harbour on the telly, with only sound effects, music, and spanish sub-titles. Possibly the best way I could imagine seeing it, other than not at all.
Am in Malargue now – have walked around hostels, on dusty streets. Nobody speaks Inglis. One hostel was quite some distance from town, down dirt tracks. Another was closed. Gonna go back to my original place I visited, where the guy had never heard of internet. And no Inglis. Gonna be great fun. Tomorrow I find out how difficult it is to organise tours to the various sights (apparently need tours/guides to do them) with my espanol which is turning out to be more harm than good. Ask a question, they usually understand, but I assume that I´ll be able to understand their long-winded answer. A real problem.
Listened to a few more lessons on the bus here. Most of which revolved around modifying what I already know to be able to refer to “us” rather than “me”. Made me a little lonely. But don´t cry for me Argentina, I´ll be alright. (Like that?)
Right – I´d best be off. Have discovered the cricket score. Good work the lads. Now I´ll see if my hostel is still available – or if the guy has got into his pickup and gone wildlife shootin´. He seems like that kind of guy. A lot of people here do.