Capital Times Part One

When we last met, I was in a state of post-cetacean bliss and inner peace. I know where that ends: incense-sniffing, indian print smocks and trying to have sex with a bongo. No thank you! Goodbye, Nature! Hello, Buenos Aires!

To say that the city had a lot to live up to is an understatement- I had lost track of the amount of people who had told me that Buenos Aires is my sort of town, the highlight of the continent, vibrant, sexy, cool, fountains of beer, party all night, art, culture, history, madness- and for this reason it was bound to be a let down. I'd also been warned about the natives- the biggest snobs on the planet (outside of Paris- the perpetual worldwide champions of uppity) Incidentally we'll not be following the crowd and calling it BA for the simple reason that it encourages Chris to do his rather poor Mr T impression.

Happily, it's a wonderful city. The only tosser we met was a travel agent. Hurling ourselves headlong into the action we did a guided city tour, inspected the presidential palace ('The Pink House'), and the balcony where Evita/Madonna did their respective thangs. I resisted the urge to break out into song- the security guards didn't look at all like Lloyd-Webber fans, and there was a feisty looking Falklands/Malvinas demonstration outside, of the sort that didnt inspire extroversion.

All that pent up singing had to go somewhere though, so we headed down to La Bombonera, home of the mighty Boca Juniors. I've wanted to go here for ages: apparently the maddest, most passionate football fans on earth. Craven Cottage it certainly was not- I learnt an awful lot of rude spanish words for lady bits. That said, our neighbouring fans were most obliging, teaching me all the words to the (really quite complicated) football chants and reassuring us that yes, it was normal for the whole stadium to sway because of the jumping and drumming. Later we went to a bar and then another and got hopelessly, horribly drunk, resulting in a World's Top Five Hangover. Happily, despite their fiery reputations not one Boca fan decided to murder us. Happy Days.

A few days breather seemed to be the ticket and so we headed off to Uruguay. Hands up anyone who knows anything about Uruguay that isn't football related? Thought not. Our first stop was Colonia, an old smuggling port directly across the Rio Plata. This is a seriously lovely place to be, with beautiful sunwarmed cobbled streets and colonial buildings, fabulous fish restaurants, a huge expanse of sandy beaches, and smelling bewitchingly of jasmine. Despite being the jewel in the crown of this part of the coast, it is surprisingly unspoilt. They do have an odd fondness for golf carts though. We watched a gorgeous sunset and had some beers, and wondered if it was worth going to Montevideo- billed as 'a smaller, crapper Argentina' by practically everyone else.

To be continued...