¡Hola! Erm... No Hablo Español...?

At the risk of sounding like a filthy hippy, even leaving a country can be a journey albeit an emotional one. Two of my closest friends, Adam and Suz along with my mrs, Ana came to the airport with me and waited around with me until it was time to clear security. It was one of the hardest goodbyes in a long time and there's never a right time to turn around and head through the Passenger Only gates, you just want to stay there that bit longer then that bit longer again, neither one wanting to make the first move and break away. Buuuuut it has to be done, I'm not quite ready for dreddlocks and the faint smell of patchouli inscense following me around.
I cleared security, trying to load my laptop back into my bag with one hand and hold my trousers up with the other while I waited for the tray with my belt to roll through, hung around trying not to sob too loudly in public until we were allowed to board, settled into my seat and proceeded to empty the contents of my saliva glands into my pillow for the ensuing 12 hours.

Aerolineas Argentinas has such a bad rap but I have no complaints ay, I was fed, the staff were fine, the aircraft remained in the air for the duration of the flight and I was in one piece when I stepped off the plane yesterday and cleared customs, looking every inch the tourist with my worldly belongings strapped to my torso and a "look at me, I'm lost and vunerable" look plastered across my face. I might as well have had "Rob Me" tattooed on my forehead. Thankfully no one did, if you look lost and confused for long enough eventually someone will either take everything you own at knife point or help you, this time it was the latter, a guy who could speak english pointed me in the right direction and I managed to get the shuttle to town then the complimentary taxi to a backpackers.

And so much for picking up Spanish while I'm here, as soon as I'm required to use the miniscule bit I learnt in Auckland the part of my brain its stored in gets scared and refuses to come out resulting in a blank stare and gaping any village idiot would be proud of. In place of words there's drooling and the most coherant noise I can managed is, "errrrrr..." Its about this point they realise I'm English and either give up or take pity and between us we work out what I want. It's not like Spain where if they don't understand, just say it louder...

Oh, and so far the most dangerous thing I've seen isn't the armed robbers tourists seem to think are lurking in every doorway but the drivers, they're all fucking mental and I'm staying right by 9 de Julio, the sod off great big seven-lane-each-way monster of a road which quite frankly scares the fuck out of me. I mean, there's crossing lights but the motorists still sweep in from the side while they're turning onto the road at speeds that don't make me entirely comfortable, blaring their horns. By the time I get to the other side I'm a nervous wreck, I'm surprised no ones had to make that phone call home to my mother yet because they found me curled up in a corner in the foetal position rocking and weeping.

Anyway, I'm here and attempting to pick up the language. By the time I leave South America I'll have a level of Spanish I can communicate easily with. Tis mah goal.

Well, that and not getting flattened by lunatics.

written by

Koala Bear on April 19, 2010 from Buenos Aires, Argentina

from the travel blog: Tourist, Rincewind Decided, Meant "Idiot"

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I enjoyed your post about heading to BA, and your lack of Spanish! Reminds me of my own time there! New Zealand is my next venture if you have any tips! My blog has some South America reviews on it, and we're also giving away a free night in Peru or Bolivia. If you have the time, check it out at dirty-hippies.blogspot.com, or email me at dirtyhippiesblog@gmail.com. Continued fun on your travels!

Heather :)

written by Heather on May 14, 2010

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