Persevering in Patagonia

I'm going to do this post in dot points, because it's much easier than trying to go over the last 6 weeks chronologically and also because, real talk, there's like 11 people reading this blog so I'm going to write it more for my own preservation of memories than for the readers enjoyment. It will still be highly entertaining, my 11 devoted readers, as that's just the kind of person I am and even when I try to do the bare minimum it ends up being totally awesome. Can't stop, won't stop.

Things lately have been super up and down, with amazing days that are worth going through all the tough parts of travel, and some shitty, shitty days that really help to put the amazing days into perspective. It's easy for people to assume that we are just on an 18 month holiday. Definitely not. Trying to travel on a budget can be really hard work and there's a ton of downtime when you're just sitting on a bus, or waiting for a bus, or sitting in your hostel, or killing time somewhere and trying not to spend any money. We also have exactly zero solid plans most of the time and it can be hard to decide what to do next, taking into account weather, budget, accessibility, activities, accommodation, transport etc etc etc. Don't get me wrong, we are so lucky to be doing this and I don't regret it for a second, but not every day is a picnic, believe me. So, some things that have happened, good and bad, since I last blogged:

- Travelled to Bahia Bustamante, where we were scheduled to do a month long Workaway exchange. This place is literally like the end of the earth, it's 210,000 hectares of ocean and land on the Atlantic coast of Argentinian Patagonia, 45 kms from the nearest road, completely isolated, wild and beautiful. The land and surrounding islands are home to penguins, sea lions, choique (pretty much a mini emu) and so many species of bird. Our hosts farm seaweed for cosmetics, medicines and consumption, as well as farming sheep - 90 animals per hectare, as free-range as you can get. I was tasked with service in the restaurant, while Dave was lucky enough to do the infinitely more interesting tasks of maintenance and assisting in the veggie garden. This was different from our previous volunteer experiences, as not only were there about 10 full time staff members there, we also had three fellow volunteers from the US. I really enjoyed the community feel of the place, everybody eating together and hanging out in the common room until the electricity was shut off at midnight. We will definitely seek out work exchange opportunities that offer a similar set up in terms of volunteer numbers in the future. While we were there we got to go out on some excursions with the guests - Dave and I had a free day together where we travelled to Penguin Island and got up close and personal with nesting penguins, I took a navigation around 12 islands to see basically all the wildlife in the area, and Dave was lucky enough to visit a petrified forest which has blah blah blah.

- Unfortunately our intended four weeks at Bahia Bustamante was cut short after only 12 days. The combination of complete isolation, inconsistent wifi which made it impossible to book and plan further travel, and repetitive, carbohydrate heavy meals were taking their toll on the Americans. They had complained to management and requested to leave early but their request seemed to be falling on deaf ears. Bear in mind, this is not a place you can choose to leave independently. You're 45 kms from the highway, which is literally just a highway, and then a further 20 kms from the nearest sign of civilisation, a simple service station. The nearest small town is 2 hours drive away. The isolation is the biggest draw card but also the biggest downfall. Fresh fruit and vegetables were almost non existent. The garden was heavily planted with greens and herbs but nothing was even close to ready to harvest, except for the lettuce. Meals therefore consisted of either pasta, rice, potatoes, pizza or polenta, occasionally with some lamb thrown in, and always with a side or bread. The girls in the garden picked lettuce almost daily but it rarely ended up on our plates, instead going to the paying guests in the restaurant. Once we were given a salad of lettuce, carrot and lentils and we celebrated it like it was Christmas lunch. A man in a van visited the farm once while we were there selling fruits and a few veggies and if we wanted these we could buy them for ourselves (note, management never purchased anything from the van man). Seriously, getting a few oranges, bananas and pears, even a tomato was a thrilling moment. Anybody who has visited Argentina will know that breakfast is not important to them, so for that meal we were provided with only coffee and some crackers and sweet biscuits. In short, our stomachs oscillated between hungry, bloated and constipated, and nobody had a lot of energy to do much other than sleep. SO the girls wanted to leave for these very valid reasons. Dave and I had planned to stick it out for another week but I didn't think I could exist on that diet for a month. However, our hand was forced one day, when management abruptly informed the girls, at 5pm, that there was a car leaving in 3 hours that would drop them off on the highway. Three women, alone on a highway in the middle of Patagonia at night. Sorry, not a viable solution. I was almost in tears as the girls started packing, fearful for them but also worried about how things would play out when Dave and I asked to leave. Luckily, a staff member talked the owner into reconsidering this plan and it was decided that the car would leave at the much more reasonable time of 10am the next day. Us volunteers drank our remaining bottles of wine that night, Dave and I quietly packed our bags and the following morning we explained to the owner that we could not support what had occurred the day prior and we had to leave as well. He understood that he had fucked up, but also that certain members of staff were starting to feel negatively towards the volunteers and that things would be incredibly awkward for us if we remained there. So we said our goodbyes and headed for the highway. It was sad to leave as we had made really good friends with a lot of the staff there.

- These dot points are actually really long and wordy, sorry. Next up: hitchhiking! We got dropped at the gas station on the highway and we knew we had a trip of 200 kms to get to the next major city where we could organise onward buses etc. The girls easily sorted themselves a ride, with a young guy who was thrilled to have three foreign girls in his car, leaving Dave and I to try our Spanish out with motorists filling up, and also stick our thumbs out to try to score a lift with a passing car. A truck driver who was on a refuel and maté break had been watching us for about 20 minutes before calling us over and telling us he'd take us. I had a brief moment of hesitation when he opened the truck door and there was a giant knife on the seat, but it turns out he just spends a lot of time in his truck and often prepares meals there. He wasn't Ivan Milat, is the point I'm trying to make!  We spent the next three hours making conversation as best as we could in Spanish and arrived safe and sound in Comodoro Rivadavia, where there were bus tickets, and fresh food, and beer! The simple things in life. 

- Having realised that we would not be able to afford to make it as far south as Ushuaia or Torres del Paine we headed down to El Calafate to check out the Perito Moreno glacier, the third largest freshwater reservoir in the world and an absolutely remarkable site. The glacier is continually shedding huge chunks of ice, so you'll hear a sound like rolling thunder and then a piece of ice will slide off the face of the glacier and into the water. It was quite a phenomenon to experience.

- We headed to El Chalten for four days of day hikes (we covered roughly 65km in 3 days) and we were immediately blessed with unseasonably stunning weather. Clear blue skies and not a breath of wind greeted us for our first two days, and we made the most of it, checking out some stunning scenery, a waterfall, and the Cerro Torre mountain. On our third day day the weather closed in a bit but we had committed to the hike up to Mt Fitz Roy, so we soldiered on through the wind and cold, through the final incredibly tough kilometre and were rewarded with an amazing site as the clouds parted for about 30 minutes to give us a picture perfect view. We further rewarded ourselves with dinner and beer at the Cerveceria later that night which felt well earned.

- Meeting other travellers along the way had helped us to alter our travel plans somewhat, and we headed to El Bolson, which had not been on our radar at all before we left. This town was a complete delight, and such a nice place to just chill out and relax for a week. We stayed in two of the best hostels we've ever been to, spent a delightful sunny afternoon at the local craft market where there was artisanal beer, whole wheat empanadas and homemade alfajores (a ridiculously amazing chocolate biscuit), and just generally saved money, researched future travel and feasted on delicious, fresh produce - El Bolson is the food bowl for most of Argentina so we were finally overwhelmed with choices at the verduleria.

- Our next move was a stupid false step, made in hastiness and impatience. We had been in contact with a Workaway host who had what sounded like a fabulous setup and who we were very keen to volunteer with. He took a while to get back to us to confirm our arrival dates and we were stressed about money, stuck in Bariloche which wasn't a place we really wanted to be, and we were really looking for a place in Chile to spend two weeks before heading to Santiago. So we reached out to a few other Workaway hosts, one of which replied immediately saying that we could arrive tomorrow if we wanted. So, we did. Through no fault of the farm or the people there, that was a big mistake. There was no wifi, which was unexpected. There was no work structure, which was difficult. It was also not the place where we really wanted to be, and I couldn't help comparing it to the location we had really wanted to be at. So, once again we left a Workaway early. I felt incredibly guilty about it, but I'd been wracked with anxiety while I was there and I wasn't enjoying myself at all. So many learning experiences, so little time!

- Which brings us to now, hanging out in southern Chile, taking a few days to regroup, rest and get ourselves back on track. We've based ourselves in Puerto Varas which is a cute little place, with a lake and two - count them - two volcanoes to look at. We've meet nice people here, booked some good stuff and are finally feeling enthusiastic rather than anxious about the future.

A couple of small high and low points we've had recently:

- Walking into a restaurant to check out their menu on our way back to the hostel from our hike to Mt Fitz Roy and being greeted by a round of thunderous applause from a table of twenty fellow hikers. We responded in a super awkward fashion because we weren't 100% sure they were clapping for us but next time we will punch the air like Rocky and totally own the cheering like the bosses we are.

- Being so relieved to leave Argentina (a country I absolutely loved) after 6 weeks of frustrations with money and organisation and everything just not running as well as it should, and then missing it two days later when we couldn't understand Chilean Spanish or Chilean currency or even why Chilean empanadas were so different. 

- Being able to have long conversations in Spanish with a French couple in one of our hostels, as well as the super sweet 'Nana' owner of another hostel. We finished both of them feeling mentally drained at having to concentrate so hard but also so happy that our fledgling Spanish is getting good enough to actually have meaningful conversations with people and not just book bus tickets or ask directions on the street.

- Rocking up to El Chalten without many Argentinian pesos on us (our 'blue dollars' are well and truly finished) and finding out that there are only two ATMs in town, one of which is completely empty and the other doesn't accept bankcards with a microchip - as if cards without a chip exist ANYWHERE in the world other than the financial joke of a country that is Argentina.

- Travelling for a bit over a week as a group of three rather than just in our couple, with Monica who we were volunteering with in Bahia Bustamante. It was such a nice way to break up the monotony (no offence) of being together and we will hopefully do more of it as we meet more travellers in South America.

- Leaving our Workaway in Chile, waiting on the side of the road for a minibus and then travelling for an hour and a half back to the nearest town with no idea where we would go next or even sleep that night, only to connect to wifi and find out that my beloved dog had passed away. Fair to say, that was the worst day so far.

- Meeting not one, but two couples who were travelling with their three year old child and staying in hostels. Life and travel does not end once you've had children!

- Being 'banned' from drinking wine in the common area of our Workaway at Bahia Bustamante after the owner came in at 11pm one night and there were two bottles of red wine being shared amongst 12 of us. We had to move our drinking to the volunteer accommodation area AKA Bar Lopez, where we sat on a concrete floor, ate water crackers and played music through our phones.

- A silver fox by the name of Gonzalo, the brother of the owner of Bahia Bustamante. He was an absolute man about town, warm and welcoming, with a great energy and super charismatic. He was travelling to Australia a few days after we met him, and staying with the one and only Mark 'Touchdown' Holden while he was in Melbourne. He also deliberately flouted the 'no drinking in the common area' rules and encouraged us all to do the same, like we needed any encouragement.

- Witnessing a 'travel couple' go from super happy together at one hostel to very snipey and awkward around each other at the next hostel in a different town a few days later. She clearly knew that the travel relationship had run its course but he was desperately holding onto whatever had drawn them together in the first place (he was also definitely the 'reacher' in the relationship so he had much more to lose).

- Cold showers on cold days after taking walks in cold wind.

- Being invited to a neighbours house for lunch, after spending one day at our Workaway in Chile. This woman's son had recently moved to Australia and she was thrilled to meet us and to learn everything she could about Australia. We sat at her dining room table for 7 hours, stuffing our faces with delicious food and trying to keep track of the conversations in Spanish going on around us. It was the most lovely, tiring, rewarding and unusual family lunch we have ever attended and we felt so lucky to meet her and to be welcomed so warmly into her home. There are so many wonderful people in the world, don't listen to what the papers tell you. Seriously, we are going to have to work our arses off when we get home to repay the hospitality we have experienced from strangers around the world.

I think it's fitting that we end on such a high note, as realistically, despite the poor decisions we've made, despite the bad luck we've experienced, despite the frustrations of everything related to money in Argentina there have been much more good days than bad. I've developed a terrible habit of latching onto anywhere that feels comfortable and assigning it as my new 'home' and then suffering terrible anxiety and homesickness as soon as we leave. I think 6 months without a home base has been tough, and because this isn't an easy continent to travel and we never know what the next location will have in store for us I'm definitely subconsciously putting down roots anywhere that feels comfortable. I've been challenged in a way that I've never felt anywhere else I've travelled, but I've also learned so much more than I ever have anywhere else I've travelled, and met so many fascinating, brave and knowledgeable people along the way.

Tomorrow we head to the Workaway we always wanted to do, who finally confirmed a date with us. Fingers crossed it's as good of an experience as we imagine it's going to be. Whatever pans out we will be wiser for it, hopefully with new friends, new skills and a whole bunch of stories to take away from it.

Merry Christmas everybody! If you're lucky enough to be spending it with your family make sure you tell them that you love them, give your dog an extra big cuddle, and for god's sake, eat as many Cherry Ripes as you possibly can - we are so lucky to live in a country where they exist! I think about Cherry Ripes every single day. Never take anything for granted. xox

Dear Buenos Aires, I love you

Hola mis amigos! ¿Cómo estás? Bueno, claro. Todo bien. Bueno. Bien....... (This is Dave's contribution to the post. He is taking the piss of a certain way of speaking the Argentinians have where they repeat themselves often, particularly in greetings. He does a great impersonation of it but I don't think it translates so well into text.)

Faithful readers, when last I left you mi esposo y yo were about to journey to the most unknown, most undiscovered (for us at least) continent on our trip - South America. I know my parents are super terrified that I'm here because danger supposedly lurks at every corner but somehow we have made it through the last five weeks with all our limbs and internal organs intact. Off to a flying start!

The trip to Rio de Janeiro from Athens is no picnic, it's basically 24 hours of flying and stopovers, the equivalent of flying from Melbourne to London. As luck would have it we were well prepared for the flight, with hangovers and sleep deprivation. Our one stopover was in Qatar and let me tell you, if you ever need to sleep overnight in an airport you could do a lot worse than the lounges at Doha International Terminal. They have a whole 'quiet' area where the seats are all reclined past the perpendicular (I'm no mathematician but I'm guessing around 120 degrees - that's a serious obtuse angle right there.). You could wrap yourself up and sleep like a baby if you needed to. Unfortunately we only had an hour here but at least I know for next time, if it's sleep I need I can find it here.

Our hostel in Copacabana (yes, we are well and truly back into hostelling - joy) was the cheapest hostel in the nicest area. Pretty good trade off for me. Being low season in Brazil there were not a lot of guests there, except for a massive group of Brazilian MMA fighters. Lots of muscles and facial tattoos amongst that squad. In their entourage was also the cutest baby of all time who we communicated with solely through smiles (it's the universal language!).

Rio was definitely an interesting first stop in South America, it's a city of stark contrasts. Staying in Copacabana and walking through nearby Ipanema you saw lots of expensive apartments with beach views, lots of super hot people exercising by the beach, nice bars and restaurants (highlight of our bar visits was when a table of girls asked Dave [in Portuguese obviously] to take a photo of them. Dave totally panicked because they were so attractive and sat there like a stunned mullet until I stepped in and took the photo like a normal human being) and plenty of boutique shops. But a stones throw away you have favelas which until recently were ruled by drug cartels, and where there are still a lot of problems and a lot of people living on the poverty line, despite the government's attempts to clean them up (the sceptic in me has to think these attempts are purely driven by the attention that the World Cup and the 2016 Olympics has cast upon Brazil). However, I felt more or less safe in Rio except for that one time when we witnessed a knife fight in broad daylight on a busy street. Dave maintains it was not a knife fight BUT I ask you, if two men are arguing and then one of them pulls out a knife how does this not qualify as a knife fight? You say tomato...

One of my favourite things about Rio was how active the locals are, exercising outdoors at all hours of the day and night. Copacabana beach was always full of people running, walking, cycling, playing volleyball and soccer (they call it football here... weird), or using the free outdoor exercise equipment. There was something incredibly unpretentious about it. No need for an expensive gym membership or the latest fashionable active wear, just a desire to keep fit and healthy no matter what social class you belonged to. We were even inspired to go for a couple of morning runs along the famous Copacabana promenade. 

Rio as a city doesn't seem to make a lot of sense. There are massive mountains EVERYWHERE that they have just built around and up and tunnelled through, and the ocean is all over the place, meaning that half the city is located on separate islands. Very strange but it's part of what makes the city so fascinating. We got a birds eye view of it from the top of Corcovado mountain when we hiked up to see Christ the Redeemer. This was a somewhat challenging walk, made easier by the resident monkeys we saw and the immensely rewarding experience at the top. This Jesus statue is fucking massive. The scale of it and the fact that they managed to build it on top of this mountain is just incredible. After spending some time admiring it all and laughing at everyone taking selfies (then taking our own selfie) we headed to the train ticket seller to buy tickets for the train to the bottom. Obviously we weren't keen to walk back down! Turns out the train tickets are really expensive, more than what we were carrying, and the buses that also ferry people down will NOT sell you a ticket at the top, only at the bottom. Sooooo, it was a walk back down (via the road this time) for these weary travellers. About half an hour into it the umpteenth taxi stopped beside us and offered us a lift. 'No, obrigado' we said, like a broken record by this stage. 'You're walking?' he asked. 'Si, si'. 'No, don't walk. I'll take you down. $10 reais.' Sir, you have a deal! We jumped in the cab and he drove us down. And drove, and drove, and drove. Turns out it was much further than we were anticipating and it would have been getting dark by the time we finished. Best $10 reais I ever spent.

We were super keen to see Foals in Rio, they were playing a couple of shows that matched up perfectly with our visit. As the story goes, we bought tickets, their singer got sick, they cancelled the shows, we missed out, consoled ourselves by watching a brilliant busking band called the Beach Combers, notable for their psychedelic 70s rock sound and the fact that the bass guitarist was wearing a skirt. My kind of band!

São Paulo was the next stop in Brazil. We weren't really keen to visit this city, but it was a decent stopover to break up what would have otherwise been an excruciatingly long bus trip from Rio to Florianopolis. Not much to say really, seemed like a pretty soulless city, a concrete jungle with little to set it apart from any other sprawling metropolis in the world. We found a great craft beer bar (of course) but nothing else really sticks in the memory, except for a couple we met who lived in São Paulo but were staying in the hostel (thankfully in a private room) just to bang. As you do.

We had however, heard great things about Florianopolis which was our next port of call. We had heard about a fabulous beach, great opportunities for hiking, supping, surfing and just general relaxing in the sun. Perfecto. Problem was, the four days we were there it never reached temperatures above 15 degrees and we copped two days of solid rain. All our hiking plans went out the window which left plenty of time to drink caipirinhas at the hostel and get to know our fellow travellers. We met some great people in Florianopolis, including a few people who had lived in Australia, for the purpose of learning English. Apparently it's becoming a pretty popular thing to do, and man can you pick the foreigners who have learned English in Australia. Not only are they missing that awful fake American sounding accent that you so often hear they also litter their speech with constant profanity. Ah, Australian English, how I miss you!

The hostel we stayed in was on the opposite side of the island to the main town of Florianopolis, where all the main services are. This caused us huge problems when we arrived on the bus at 6am, spent our last reais on a taxi to the hostel, and then found out that the only ATMs on the whole island were way back over the other side. There is a bus that runs regularly, but we had literally no money so we couldn't even afford to catch it. So, for the hundredth time on this trip we were faced with a long trek because of our poor planning. 10kms (mostly uphill) into town, running on no sleep, no breakfast, and no water. At least we were able to laugh about it. Top tip: when a hostel sends through important info about how to get there, are there any ATMs nearby etc actually read it...

Having definitely not experienced the best of Brazil, we then jumped over the border into Uruguay. We did not spend much time here, only visiting the capital Montevideo. I have zero notes written in my journal about Montevideo because I spent most of my time there asleep. Yes, that cold snap we had in Florianopolis totally messed with my body which had been used to temperatures consistently hovering between 30 and 40 degrees for the past four months and I got super sick. So, I can tell you that there is some beautiful architecture in Montevideo. I can also tell you that the streets, even in the centre are weirdly deserted of people all the time. There are also a whole bunch of abandoned buildings all over the place and it looks run down as hell. Definitely very different to any city I've been to before and I wish I'd been well enough to really get the feel of it. Instead I drank pumpkin soup in the hostel wearing literally all the clothes I own to stay warm, venturing out for like an hour each day before I had to go home for a nap. Good times.

Luckily luckily luckily, spending so much time at the hostel gave me the opportunity to talk to fellow travellers who had already been to Argentina. They gave us the most important advice we've received so far - take only US dollars into Argentina. The fucked up monetary system in Argentina means that the peso is super devalued and there is a huge demand for USD. So if I were to go to any ATM in Argentina and withdraw pesos I would get about 6.7 pesos for every $1AUD. However, there exists an illegal 'Blue Market' where you can exchange US dollars for much much more than the official exchange. I'm talking 16 pesos for every $1USD. Huge difference. Therefore, even though the exchange from AUD to USD is terrible at the moment we were still going to come out waaaaay in front if we exchanged on the Blue Market. So every day in Montevideo we went to the ATM to withdraw $300USD on each of our bank cards (they have a daily limit of $300 to stop Argentinians travelling to Uruguay and withdrawing a ton of USD.). There is an entire street in Buenos Aires, Calle Florida, where you walk past shady looking characters and they call out 'cambio, cambio' (change, change) and if you approach them they will take you to what's known as a 'cueva' which might be inside a restaurant or a jewellery store where they will exchange your dollars for an agreed upon rate. There's even a Twitter account you can follow so that you always know what the current Blue Dollar rate is to reduce your risk of getting ripped off. We never used one of these cambio guys, it's all a bit seedy and it's easy to find Argentinian people who want your dollars or exchange offices that seem much more above board. Given that we are going to be in Argentina for close to two months being prepared for the Blue Dollar has made our bank balance look a lot healthier than it would have if we exchanged at the official rate.

So, armed and dangerous with our USD we arrived in Buenos Aires. We had been here for exactly 20 minutes when I knew I was completely in love with this city. Up until this point I had not enjoyed South America as much as I had expected to. I'd found the transition from Europe quite difficult, I never felt 100% safe (stupid overactive imagination and paranoia rather than actual threat. Please don't worry Mum, everything is fine.) and we had visited a few places that I guess I felt like we could have probably skipped. I was also desperate to get to Buenos Aires because I had a sneaking suspicion it was going to be my kind of city, so I may not have been 'living in the moment' enough, rather I felt like we were just killing time until we got to the place I really wanted to be. Luckily BA was as fantastic as I imagined it was going to be. Being here has really helped me to feel settled in South America and has renewed my enthusiasm for travelling this amazing continent. Positive vibes everywhere!

We had our first Couchsurfing experience in BA which was a great way to start our time here, as on our first night we were able to try Fernet (this weird alcohol they drink) and maté (this weird herbal thing they drink [parenthesis in parenthesis: everybody has their own special maté mug and they drink the maté from a silver straw. You can get them in every colour and design you can imagine. Importantly though, everybody has one. Just their own special one. And they invite friends over to drink maté together. All super normal. EXCEPT that they all drink from the same cup and straw! Your mates don't bring their own maté cups and everybody gets their own drink. Oh no, you pass around this one cup and everybody drinks from the one straw. When our Spanish teacher told us this like it was totally normal Dave almost fell off his chair laughing. He quickly got used to the idea though, and when we get home he has vowed to only ever crack one stubby at parties, stick a straw in it and share it with all his mates. We're referring to it as 'Five guys, one cup'.]) as well as having our very first asado (fabulous barbecued meat, this is good by me). We quickly learned that the nightlife here is very different to back home. We went to a party with our hosts on Saturday night, which began at midnight. Midnight. Some clubs don't even open until 3am. Don't people know that nothing good ever happens after 2am? Well actually, at this party after 2am everybody was in fine form because it was still early in the night for them. Gosh, Argentinians are hilarious. It was just like being back home hanging out with all of Dave's mates, people making offensive jokes, that one dreadlocked guy who looks like a hippy but is actually a massive capitalist, everyone talking over the top of each other and then the inevitable bottle-o run at 3am. Lots of fun.

Dave and I both thought it would be a good idea to learn some Spanish while we were travelling to make getting around this continent easier. We had heard that a lot of people don't speak English so we felt that even having some basic knowledge of the language would be useful. We had been listening to a Spanish language podcast as we travelled through Europe but we decided to do some formal lessons to give us a better understanding. So our two weeks in Buenos Aires included four hours of intensive Spanish classes each weekday morning. We were in small group of just five students all of whom were super lovely and friendly people which was a huge bonus. The teachers were young and fun and shared much more than just verbs and grammar with us. We also talked about our cultures and swapped stories of amazing places we've been to. We learned a lot in the two weeks and hopefully now we will be able to sit down and review everything and really try to absorb it (difficult to do on a daily basis when you're visiting a city and want to be out and about doing stuff everyday). I am genuinely sad to be finished the classes.

So, onto the part where I bang on about how fucking great Buenos Aires is. It is now firmly placed in my top three cities I've ever visited (the other two are NYC and the love of my life Melbourne, obvs). A good city has to have a good bar scene and we certainly made the most of the different suburbs we stayed in by sampling all the best craft beer spots in Buenos Aires. The national beer is Quilmes which is pretty shit, but there's a massive craft beer scene happening now (like everywhere in the world I guess) and we drank some very good beers while we were here. Hora feliz (happy hour) is generally a 2 for 1 deal so if you plan your evening wisely, moving from one place to the next according to their happy hour times you can drink pretty cheaply.

The food was fantastic, if you're carnivorous like us. Meat, meat, meat and more meat, always cooked over hot coals until it was smoky and scorched and delicious. Choripan was my favourite, it's essentially just a fancy version of a hot dog with a super smoky chorizo covered in chimichurri (garlicky salsa deliciousness) inside a bread roll. As much as I love a Bunnings sausage sizzle and can never walk past one without buying a snag I have to say that this BBQ trumps that. The steaks were more on the well done side than I prefer but cooking them in this method means that they're still tender and juicy. Also, ice cream. The best ice cream in the world? Quite possibly. You can buy it in weird amounts too, not just a cone or a cup but in quarter or half kilos (which you can take home but we also saw people eating them right then and there).

Everywhere we go our favourite thing is to just wander around the city taking everything in. It's a very cheap day out but it's also the best way to get to know a place. We walked a lot of kilometres in BA and with each new place we stumbled across we learned something new about the city. It's a super easy city to get around, the buses go everywhere that isn't walking distance and there's a great app that tells you which one to catch. It's also really well laid out, the blocks are all pretty much square, with 100 house numbers between intersections. Very much like the Hoddle grid but on a larger scale. There's a lot of great green spaces, parks and gardens and monuments and fountains everywhere, especially in the older suburbs.

There really is such a fascinating mix of Europe and South America here. The gorgeous contrast of architecture styles is the first thing you notice when you arrive here. The second thing is the dog shit. People in Buenos Aires love their pet dogs. Apparently there's like a rule here that dogs need to spend a certain amount of time outside each day so there are a heap of people employed as dog walkers and you'll see them walking massive packs of dogs around. It is super cute and of course I love a dog filled city. Problem is, nobody ever cleans up after their dog (apparently there's a rule that you're supposed to do that too, but nobody adheres to it). The smart visitor learns early on that you always need to walk with your head down looking at the ground, otherwise you will definitely step in something. On the whole, I would actually say it's the dirtiest city I have ever visited, in terms of physically dirty, rubbish and shit all over the streets etc. It's one of those things that reminds you that you're in South America. Just when you're comparing it to Paris or Rome you'll see something that brings you right back to where you are - people blatantly throwing rubbish on the ground even though there are bins everywhere, men pulling carts full of cardboard down the main roads in amongst the cars and buses like it's no big deal, the guys who drive around with a loudspeaker calling for people to bring out their old furniture and appliances (it's basically a hard rubbish collection every single day, but also very much like 'bring out your dead' from Monty Python), and of course seeing people carrying around the most common accessory of all - their maté cup and a thermos to refill it from.

Some of the 'sights' I really enjoyed were La Recoleta Cemetery (until my claustrophobia kicked in and I had a minor panic attack - every single day I wonder why Dave continues to travel with me), the San Telmo market, Floralis Genérica, Teatro Colón (spewing we didn't get to see a show here), Al Ateneo Grand Splendid which is an old theatre that has been converted into the most beautiful bookstore you've ever seen, Caminito en La Boca (super touristy though, more so than anywhere else in BA), MNBA, Jardin Botanico, watching our friends dance tango in the beautiful Confitería Ideal, the list seriously goes on and on. If you are visiting Buenos Aires (and you definitely should) please hit me up for recommendations, I have a lot.

Most of all, I actually really enjoyed having a full two weeks to really experience this city, and I even appreciated having some sort of routine again. Every morning we would walk to class, stopping for a cafe con leche and medialunas along the way, study for our four hours then spend the afternoon and evening exploring the city and eating and drinking. That's a pretty awesome routine. We also met a whole bunch of brilliant people and I temporarily fell in love walking down the street every single day - seriously, Argentinian men are all tall, dark, handsome, bearded, and lean. Single ladies, I highly recommend you visit. We leave today, and I desperately wish we could stay for longer but new adventures await. I will look back on our time in Buenos Aires with the fondest of memories, and if the rest of our time in South America is even half as enjoyable then we are going to have an amazing next 6 months.

Today we catch a 25 hour bus down south to Patagonia where we will be staying on a farm for the next four weeks. They only have electricity for 5 hours a day so wifi looks like it's going to be pretty sketchy. Please please please continue to message me and fill me in on what is happening in your lives, I love hearing from all of you and whenever I can I will be checking for stories from home. I just may be a bit crap at responding in a timely fashion. But I miss you all and I really wish I could squeeze all your stupid faces.

So much love, as always. Barbecue some meat this weekend and think of us. Love Mel and Dave. xox

Tales from Turkey and Greece

Hey team! I hope you've got a cup of tea or a bottle of wine ready, this one is long. I didn't mean for it to be, it's just that a lot has happened since the last blog. There's some devastating lows in this one too so if you cry easily (I'm looking at you Marg) have some tissues ready.

In my last blog I mentioned that we had an absolutely savage travel day when we flew from Barcelona to Istanbul. We managed to book incredibly cheap flights, but a cheap flight always has a trade off and this case the trade off was a 12.01am departure time, then landing in Athens at 4am to begin a 10 hour layover. [Side note: Dave dubbed the flight from Barcelona 'The Rainbow Express' as it was chock-a-block full of big gay Greek men who had obviously all been to some event in Spain. I can guarantee that Grindr was working overtime on that plane.] I don't know if you've ever tried to sleep at an airport but it's not easy, nor is it fun. Athens airport is also very small and floor space was hard to find, as there were a whole lot of other travellers in the same boat as us who had taken all the best sleeping spots. There's actually an entire website dedicated to finding the best spots to sleep in every airport around the world. I now have it saved in my favourites. We eventually found a good spot and settled in for an hour of the least restful sleep ever. By the time we arrived in Istanbul we were shadows of our former selves, and struggled to even keep our eyes open on the 1.5 hour bus ride into the city. Istanbul is the most sprawling city I've ever seen. I could not believe how big it was and how long it took to get anywhere.

Knowing that we were going to be back in Istanbul in a few weeks meant that we were able to completely relax on our first night and day there, without feeling pressure to race around seeing the sights. We sought out the best gozleme and Turkish delight in our local area, went to a cute cafe for breakfast, planned our travel through Turkey, dropped into Carre d'Artistes (an amazing store selling works by local artists, we had bought a piece of art from their New York store last year), and found the holy grail of travel - a shop selling cheap books in English! 

The next day we made the trek back out to the airport for our flight to Cappadocia. Our accommodation was in Uchisar which is like a little village, much smaller than Goreme where most of the cave hotels are. We loved Uchisar. Best gozleme we ever ate was in Uchisar at a place called House of Memories, where the owner was always either singing or calling out 'wonderful, wonderful' at anyone who would listen. We ate there three times. There is a 'castle' in Uchisar which is really just a giant rock formation that has been carved into so you can walk through it. From the top of the castle you get a fantastic view of the sunset. We were up there one evening, and just as the sun started to dip below the horizon a group of Spanish teenagers who must have been travelling together as part of a choir sang a beautiful song to the setting sun. It was one of those goosebumpy travel moments where you just think 'I can't believe I'm here'.

Unfortunately we also experienced that 'I can't believe I'm here' moment at our hostel. It was one of those god awful places where the owner treats you solely as a walking wallet, and will not give any genuine recommendations for sights or businesses that aren't giving him kickbacks. He told us that if we weren't prepared to pay for a hot air balloon ride (even the shitty ones where they cram you in with 20 other people were out of our budget) then we wouldn't see the hot air balloons at all. He also told us that the only way to see Cappadocia's landscape and the famous fairy chimneys was to pay for a bus tour. Again, totally out of our budget. We did some independent research and thanks to the magic of the internet and other cheap travellers sharing their tips we were able to find the perfect spot to watch the sunrise and see hundreds of balloons floating over the landscape. Really a special moment and I'm sure it's even better from inside a balloon, but we were pretty happy with our little spot. We also laced up the old hiking shoes for two days and walked all over Cappadocia, seeing plenty of fairy chimneys and some amazing cave churches that were only accessible on foot. Better than a bus tour, and totally free! It was hard work as it was very hot and there is virtually no shade out there, however we saw quite a few fellow hikers so it seems that this 'sticking it to the man and his overpriced tours' thing is catching on.

It was on one of these hiking days that we encountered a local boy selling freshly squeezed orange juice, and I will admit he caught me in a moment of weakness. We had been walking for ages and I was sure we were lost as the track kept changing and didn't seem to be heading anywhere (there are no hiking maps or signs or information or anything out there. They really want you to pay for the tours). We ended up walking up a massive cliff face to reach the road above and lo and behold here's this kid and his OJ. We bought one without even asking the price because I was so hot and cranky but he later told us it was 10 lira. Problem was, we only had a 50 lira note. I'm sure you can tell where this is going. He didn't have change. He tried to force us to buy a necklace with the remainder. We refused. He offered to take our 50 lira and run down to the hiking track to get change from a potential passer by. We refused. Obviously. We repeatedly offered to walk into town and swap the note and come back and pay him but he wasn't having any of that. In the end Dave got so fed up with the theatrics that he just walked off, with the intention of getting into town and swapping the note. Kid decides he is going to follow us and call out new solutions but we walk on ignoring him. He then stops me and tells me he has 30 lira change now (what a fucking surprise) which he got from 'a hiker who went past'. Okay mate. Despite the obviousness of his lie, I also tell him the change should be 40 lira, not 30. He says 'no the juice was 10 lira EACH'. This infuriates Dave and he keeps walking, now refusing to pay this scammy little kid anything. We are getting closer to town and it's like a weird procession - Dave in front walking faster than I've ever seen him do, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge the kid; me awkwardly behind, not wanting to make a scene in town especially as we speak zero Turkish, and the kid running behind yelling 'please madam, please madam, I now have 40 lira. 40 lira ma'am, please. Pleaaaase!' I really don't want this to become a public spectacle so I eventually convince Dave that we should pay him and leave it at that. Dave reluctantly agrees, and he finally makes the transaction and tells the kid not to lie to people. I'm sure the kid really took those words to heart...

Our final day in Cappadocia we had big plans to see the Open Air Museum, literally the best thing in the area. Except after we'd bought our tickets we realised Dave's bank card was missing. This was actually a huge problem because my bank card had not been working for a couple of weeks, a problem we didn't deal with because we had Dave's. To compound matters the local buses weren't running due to road closures so to get back to our hostel we had to pay for a taxi to take us the long way home. We rock back into the hostel, turned our room upside down looking for this fucking card, before resigning ourselves to the fact that we'd need to contact the bank (eventually we determined that Dave had left it inside an ATM). Hostel owner couldn't possibly let us make a reverse charge call on his phone as 'actually, it only works for incoming calls'. Okay mate. We end up buying viber credit and calling the bank but it never quite works due to the shitty wifi. We are on an overnight bus this evening so we really need some resolution to this problem. We decide to head to Nevsehir as it has the most facilities, shops etc. We share the bus there with an Aussie girl from our hostel and her Italian travelling hookup and they mention they are on the way to the Museum. Score! We sell them our tickets which gets us some cash to use and is also literally the first positive thing that's happened all day. In Nevsehir we catch the luckiest of breaks and are given free reign of a mobile phone store after the SIM card they sold us doesn't work to call Australia. We are in their back room for an hour and a half, using their wifi, trying to call the bank and not only did they never once complain they even bought us water and checked in on us every ten minutes to make sure we had everything we needed. This kind of generosity was very common in Turkey and it was the reason why Turkish people were pretty much our favourites. Thanks to these guys we got in touch with the bank, got my card back up and running, and arranged for a replacement to be sent to our accommodation in Istanbul. Phew.

The overnight bus we took that night to Pamukkale was very unlucky for two of our fellow travellers who were robbed. A Canadian woman and an American guy both had stuff stolen while they were sleeping. Obviously we felt sorry for them and I was showing my concern to the guy, as he'd had a bag stolen containing some expensive electronics. I mentioned that it's so annoying because he will now have to spend all day putting in his insurance claims and he replied that he didn't have travel insurance. That was a complete conversation killer. Sympathy finished.

Pamukkale was a very uneventful place in comparison. We stayed with Erol an engineering student who hosts on Airbnb to practise his (already very good) English and for extra beer money. He will be finishing his degree in a year and told us that he really doesn't want to get a job in Turkey. When we asked where he wanted to move to his main criteria was 'somewhere where the beer is cheap'. Our type of guy. He was the perfect host, he cooked us dinner, was easy to talk to and fun to be around, gave us a great insight to what it was really like for young people in Turkey at the moment, showed us around his local market, helped us buy bus tickets to our next destination, and cooked us breakfast. 

Pamukkale itself, although still beautiful, was unfortunately not as spectacular as the pictures we had seen on the Internet. It was very dry when we were there which was disappointing but not unexpected. There were still plenty of chicks in bikinis posing for ridiculous photos though.

Our onward bus was to Fethiye, the neighbouring town of Oludeniz. Oludeniz is renowned for amazing beaches and national parks but also for being absolutely swarming with the worst kind of English tourist. We were happy to stay nearby and bus in each day rather than immerse ourselves in that. Unfortunately our arrival was an absolute sanga. Our host Kartal spoke very little English and had not provided us with a complete address or directions to his home. His intention was to pick us up from the local mall after he finished his work for the day (he was a paragliding pilot) and drive us to his house. This message was completely lost in translation and we ended up walking the streets of Fethiye at 10pm in search of what we thought maybe might be his address (it wasn't). I resigned myself to the fact that we didn't have a bed for the night and we stopped in at Burger King for some food. Through the helpful translation of a cleaner at Burger King we were able to determine that Kartal would pick us up from there and drive us home. His apartment had gorgeous views over Fethiye and we all sat down on the balcony together, ate lokum and chatted. He liked the fact that we were Australian because it meant we were his brothers. He said about Gallipoli 'big war, but now, big brothers'. It was a very sweet moment. 

Our few days here were filled to the brim with beach time, firstly at Oludeniz and the Blue Lagoon where we were able to afford to hire sun beds and an umbrella for the first time on the trip (cost $8 Australian - hey big spenders). We also took a day trip out to Butterfly Valley, a gorgeous spot with a pristine beach and a waterfall that you could climb up more or less to the top. Apparently you used to be able to go all the way up and over but then somebody died so they closed it. There's always that one clown who ruins it for everybody. The water here (and everywhere else we swam in Turkey) was the most pristine, clear, perfect temperature, medium salted, amazing water I've ever seen. Remember I was complaining that all the oceans were too cold to too warm? Well the Aegean was an absolute delight. You should all go there, now.

The taxi boat home from Butterfly Valley threw up a few of the aforementioned chavs who flock to Oludeniz. We heard a 10 year old girl accuse her mother of being on coke, and the mother's  only response was that it was a 'pathetic and ridiculous' thing to say. They were accompanied by two of the drunkest men I've ever seen, one of whom had clearly pumped a lot of steroids in his time. Honestly, the best kind of Brits.

A trip to turkey would not be complete without a visit to Gallipoli and after yet another overnight bus ride (they are the bread and butter of the budget traveller) and a night staying in the world's worst hostel in Canakkale, we hit up the peninsula ready for our tour. Our bus was full of kiwis bro, and our tour guide was Turkish which we really appreciated as it gave us a different perspective rather than being focused solely on the Australian efforts. This was an unfortunate battle for all involved, and even though the allies were defeated the Turkish people certainly don't view it as a 'victory', just a really sad shared history that we have. The cemeteries and commendation sites we visited were really well looked after and very simply done, letting the emotion of the location speak for itself. It was hard not to shed a tear at the cemeteries or at the monument of Ataturk's speech, words that have always made me emotional. It was definitely a very moving day and an experience that we won't forget in a hurry.

The bus from Gallipoli took us to our Airbnb in Istanbul, dropping us off just after midnight. I felt so guilty that we were inconveniencing our hosts (Khan and Gülsa, a painfully cool Turkish hipster couple) but she had only just gotten home from an exam and was waiting for her boyfriend to cook dinner. They needed a couple of eggs for the dish so she pulled out her phone, called the local grocer, put some lira in a basket on a lead, lowered it out the sixth storey window and 30 seconds later she was pulling fresh eggs into the apartment. Best apartment ever. They also had a fabulous dog called Rush who I was able to get to sit through the magic of google translate. Turkish dogs apparently don't understand the English word for 'sit'. 

Of course we visited the Hagia Sophia (amazing piece of history. Definitely one of my favourite sights in Istanbul, particularly the mosaics), the spice bazaar, the grand bazaar and all the shops in between. While we were lining up to see the underground cistern we ran into our friends Helen and Joel from back home who we had arranged to have dinner with that night. It was a lovely reunion and so good to see familiar faces! We caught up over beers and meze and the following day visited the Blue Mosque together and had more beers and meze.

Istanbul was one of our favourite cities to visit. It was a great place to just walk around, safe, vibrant, full of cool people and places. Alcohol and food are more expensive than a lot of places we've been but still cheaper than being home!

There are always pros and cons of staying in Airbnb places, many of which I've already touched on. One of the pros of our place in Istanbul was that the balcony overlooked a soccer stadium and one night we sat on our balcony watching the Olyroos beat the Turkish side in the Gallipoli Cup 1-0. Us watching pretty much doubled the attendance at the game, but hey, who's counting. One of the cons of the apartment was that the stove was hard to figure out. I didn't want to ask our hosts why it wasn't working so I did some detective work, found a plug on the stove and a powerpoint on the wall and decided that they must belong together. They didn't. I shorted out the power to the entire apartment and gave myself a very big fright. Khan probably got an even bigger fright because at that moment he was recording/making music (that was his job) and definitely lost all his work. Dave brings this up at least once a week. Turns out you just needed a match to get the stove going. #wellwhythefuckisthereaplugonit

Athens was the next port of call, after our longest overnight bus ride yet - 16 hours! We did nothing on our first day in Athens, except sleep, find a souva for lunch, sleep some more, then check out some local bars and eat another souva for dinner. We had a super friendly bartender at one of these bars who chatted to us for ages and gave us souvenir beer glasses when we were leaving. This was a lovely gesture but very awkward to carry in a backpack - we gave them to our Airbnb host. He probably didn't deserve a gift though. If you've been to Greece you will know that their sewerage system cannot cope with toilet paper being flushed so it all has to go in the bin. Super gross and unsettling but just a part of life for them. Most places have a very small bin that gets emptied regularly so it doesn't get funky. Not so our host. This bin was literally up to my hip and contained probably a weeks worth of shit covered toilet paper. He didn't empty it once while we were there. You feared for your very life every time you entered the bathroom. 

The next day, we did the right thing and made our way to the Acropolis. It was so weird to just walk past random ruins on the street that are thousands of years old. The Acropolis itself was great, some things were remarkably well preserved and others clearly needed a LOT of restoration to ensure they will even still be standing in 100 years. The Greek government is spending billions of dollars on these restoration works and although I was disappointed that the monuments are not entirely 'authentic', once I learned that most of them would crumble without this maintenance I was 100% on board. This is a part of history that we can't afford to lose. 

It was at one of these monuments that I ran into Emilia, the sister of Helen from the Istanbul part of this story. It was lovely and unexpected to see her, but also unnerving that the entire family was stalking me through Europe. You don't have to go to that kind of effort guys, you could just read the blog. But seriously, come visit please. All of you.

Athens was the most surprising city we visited. I was not particularly interested in going there, and did not have high expectations. Turns out, it's a super cool city with a lot more going on than I anticipated. The people were so friendly and there was much more to it than just ticking off the standard tourist spots. The New Acropolis Museum is the second best museum I've ever visited and really fleshed out what we had seen at the Acropolis. And the pork souvas are really really good.

We had signed up for Workaway while we were in Turkey, a website that is kind of like WWOOFing but with a much broader range of tasks and not necessarily geared towards farming/organics. Our aim was to spend a few weeks on a Greek island experiencing life as the locals live it. We ended up at a villa on Skopelos (famous/not famous for the movie Mamma Mia being filmed there) staying with a British couple in their late sixties. This stay differed greatly from the WWOOFing we had done previously as our main task was to repaint the pergola. Once that was done we were mostly doing bits and pieces around the house, helping with cleaning etc. It was not difficult work but nor was it interesting in the way it had been when we were working on farms. We didn't learn any new skills the whole time we were there (except how to polish silver, you can imagine how often I'll use that in my daily life) and we certainly missed the feeling of hands in dirt. Hopefully in the future I will be sharing many more stories about the fabulous farms and plots we find ourselves on.

What we did learn however, was a lot about Greek culture. Skopelos is a tiny island in the Sporades, population of about 4000 and no real export or industry to speak of. They are renowned for their plums (I can attest that they are delicious) and their fucking amazing cheese pie. The people were lovely and friendly and happy but a lot of them are really struggling to make ends meet, and have been greatly affected by the austerity measures. On our second night in Skopelos we were lucky enough to view a film made by an English director who has a home on the island, focusing on the unfair way that the Greek people have been treated and drawing parallels between history and what is occurring now. It was very eye opening and made much more sense by the time we were leaving and really understood what was happening in Greece. It's incredibly sad, but the people are very resilient (perhaps too resilient) and life seemed to go on as usual, even after Tsiporas was voted back into power.

The first ten days on the island were sunny, warm and perfect for tanning. We spent time by the pool, swam at a couple of local beaches (Dave was lucky/unlucky enough to see a couple having sex in one of the coves, obviously thinking that they were very well hidden!), we sunbaked, we read, we walked, we paddle boarded, we relaxed and we acclimatised to island life - slow down. We definitely needed this after the constant go go go of our last three months. On our second day at the villa our host Neil was showing me how to clean the pool and he said the most important thing was to 'just take your time doing it. There's really no point in rushing anything'. This was island life.

Our run of luck had to break though, and break it did with two days of constant rain and some of the most severe thunderstorms I have ever experienced. The thunder and lightning were terrifying. We were very lucky that the part of the island we were staying on was spared the brunt of the damage, but the main street in the main town was pretty much destroyed, with shopfronts and cars completely washed away in flash flooding. 286mm of rain fell in 24 hours. The island was not prepared for a disaster like this (they don't even have a police station) so a state of emergency was declared and the army called in to assist. We lost power in the storm, and the water was off for two days afterwards but this was very lucky in comparison to those who lost their entire livelihoods. Many people don't have insurance or the money to rebuild so it will be interesting to see what happens long term. A disaster fund has been set up and hopefully the funds will be distributed correctly. This was an odd few days in our time on Skopelos, as by the time we left it was back to clear blue skies, sunshine and the most magnificent sunsets we had ever seen. All considered it was a very interesting time and certainly not your regular tourist experience.

Unfortunately, what we had considered to be a positive and enjoyable experience was punctuated a few days after we left with a long, unfairly negative review from our hosts. This felt like a complete kick in the guts and was incredibly upsetting, especially as they had not given any indication that they were unhappy with us while we were there. Sidebar: everybody knows that shit happens when you travel. There's funny shit (like Dave leaving his bankcard in a Turkish ATM) that's stressful at the time but will eventually become a funny story that you will laugh about. But there's also shit shit, like when you feel you've been unfairly treated and been set up to fail in your future endeavours with a review so bad that nobody would consider hosting you again. The funny shit is great, it makes for enjoyable reading and fun writing. The shit shit is awful. It makes me feel sick thinking about it and I need to stop dwelling on it and continue carrying the negative energy around. I have avoided sharing those kind of stories here for that reason. I won't go into further details about what happened but it certainly makes it hard to look back on the Workaway experience with fondness. Rather, we will treat it as a big learning curve and hopefully be able to seek out more authentic people in future, whose ideals and principles are more in line with ours.

But onwards and upwards, and Athens was calling our name again. First port of call (after a pork souva and a craft beer of course) was the Brazilian embassy where we had an appointment to beg them to process a rush visa for us so that we could board a plane to Rio in three days. We really dropped the ball on this one - we assumed it was a simple e-visa process like virtually every other country we are travelling to. Wrong. It's a full blown visa that requires you to send your passport plus all your supporting documentation to the embassy two months before you travel. Whoops. We called the embassy several times before we got someone on the phone who would agree that if we made an appointment and had all of our papers and photos with us, and all our information was correct then they could process the visa in 4 hours. You could tell they weren't thrilled about doing it but we got the stamp of approval and breathed a huge sigh of relief. Dave's replacement bank card had also made its way safely to our hostel in Athens after mysteriously not turning up in Istanbul. Everything was coming up Dave and Mel in Athens!

The rest of our time here was spent predominantly eating, drinking and making sure we were organised for South America. We managed to squeeze in a museum visit while we were waiting on our visas but other than that it was virtually free of tourist sights. We were staying in Monastiraki which is a pretty cool part of town, with a lot of bars and cafes and we were more than happy to hop from one place to the next each night.

One place we did spend a lot of time however, was the sports bar. The AFL grand final was on and there was no way Dave was going to miss out on watching it. Luckily there was a place in Athens showing it, and they advised us to get there early because it would be busy. It wasn't. We were the first ones there at 6:15am and I was absolutely cursing Dave for his eagerness. A couple of coffees and some bacon later and things were looking up. There was even a small crowd forming (those who were smart enough to sleep in). We were seated next to a table of women who were probably the most fanatical West Coast supporters I've ever seen. It turns out that they were the mother, aunt, cousin etc of a guy who was actually playing in the grand final. Well, this guy kicked a goal and the entire bar just erupted. Obviously she was disappointed at the result of the game, but shit, her son kicked a goal in a grand final. That's pretty special. It was really nice to feel part of a little Aussie community for a couple of hours and we met some lovely people. So lovely in fact that we decided to go back to the hostel and sleep off the early morning beers, then regroup for round 2 at the sports bar that night - Australia v England in the rugby World Cup. This was a different kettle of fish altogether. The place was jam packed when we got there, and predictably full of poms. Most of them were also lovely, and gracious in defeat (they all just said they would switch to supporting Wales now). 

That was a very big day and we greeted Sunday with very big hangovers. Our flight wasn't until late so we had to check out of the hostel and awkwardly hang around passing the time, trying not to vomit, trying not to sleep on the street etc. I'm sure you've all been there.

We were really quite sad to leave Europe, it had been a long, hot (sometimes unbearably so), enjoyable summer and we had met a bunch of amazing people and seen some beautiful places. Europe was like a familiar friend to us and heading to South America which was the complete unknown was a little bit nerve racking but also incredibly exciting. We are currently in Rio and I can confirm it is nowhere near as dangerous as the papers would have you believe. BUT I will keep all of that for the next blog. Until then, be nice to each other and wear sunscreen! Especially all you tarts at the races. Seriously, even if it's cloudy. Trust me.

Eu amo todos vocês. x

The rain in Spain falls... occasionally

G'day folks, and thanks for checking in. I can't think of anything funny to say because successive overnight bus trips have temporarily stolen my wit and ability to form coherent sentences. Don't worry, the post itself was written in chirpier times so it's as funny as you would have come to expect from me by now i.e. less funny than Chris Farley in a little coat but more funny than everything Wil Anderson has ever said. If you're a Wil Anderson fan stop reading now, there's nothing here for you. Everyone else, enjoy!

Granada was our next stop after Morocco, and I can tell you that we were pretty keen to drink some beer and eat some of the world's best jamón after two weeks off. The travel was of course long and tedious and we arrived in Granada exhausted and smelly. To make matters worse we struggled to find our Airbnb location and really needed to find somewhere with wifi so we could load our maps and messages properly. Once we were in the general area of the house we found a bunch of cafes, which we approached in turn asking 'tiene wifi?' to be met with 'no' after 'no'. Nobody in Granada has wifi guys, take note. Finally we found somewhere, sat down, ordered a lemonade each and got the password. Not two minutes later the waitress returns with a plate of these tuna rolls, explaining that tapas are FREE with every drink in Granada. I seriously could have kissed her. Well, long story short, we found the house, showered and set off to drink and eat our way across the city - for free! Free tapas does not mean poor quality tapas, as we ate some of the best food on our whole trip in Granada, our favourite being from (ahem) a super hipster record store/bar called Loop. You can take the couple out of Melbourne etc..

During the daytime we kept ourselves occupied with exploring the city, visiting Spain's oldest hamman (remarkably well preserved), wandering the streets of the old town Albaicín, checking out the local street art, drinking spring water from the fountains in the street and trying to keep cool, and for me, dealing with some unpleasant side effects of the ice (the frozen water, not the highly addictive drug) I had in my very last beverage in Morocco. Yes, two weeks of being super careful with our food and drink and then on the last day I forgot myself and accepted a drink with ice in it. Always a mistake.

The free walking tour we took in Granada was one of the better ones we've ever been on, our guide knew a shitload of interesting stories about the history of the city, and Granada certainly has a more interesting history than a lot of other cities. She also pointed out the best place to buy piononos, this amazing cake originally made for, and named after Pope Pius XI. It is a close second to pasteis de nata for our favourite cake SO FAR. Don't worry, we still have 14 more months of cake eating to do, I will keep you posted on all the developments in this very important contest.

Obviously no trip to Granada is complete without a visit to the Alhambra. We splurged on a guided tour AKA forgot to book our tickets in advance and only the expensive guided ones were still available. But, every cloud has a silver lining, and our silver lining was Alberto, the best tour guide you could ever want. He had fabulous hair, was rocking lime green pants, and he dropped a David Bowie reference on us in the first five minutes - does it get any better than that? Well, yes it does. He is probably the only person I have met who hates selfie sticks more than I do, and he was not backwards in making his feelings known to the people in our group yelling 'selfie time is over!' when he wanted us to move on to the next part of the tour. He also clearly loved the Alhambra. He was born and raised in Granada so he felt a great sense of pride in it. If you have ever seen pictures of the Alhambra I'm sure you would wonder why. I wondered why too when I first saw it. It's a pretty boring (dare I say ugly?) building. From the outside. See, this is the thing about Arab architecture, and something we also saw a lot of in Morocco. They never spend money making the facade of your house beautiful and luxurious. For them, beauty is something that you keep on the inside, for your family and your guests, not to have a very ostentatious outward appearance that shows off how much money you have, and could embarrass your neighbours. In Morocco you could not tell who was rich and who was poor until you saw inside their houses. Even the hostels and riads, which were gorgeous inside, have no outward facing windows. All the rooms are built around a central roofless courtyard, which lets in light and air. It is a really nice idea, and stunning from the inside. As was the Alhambra. My initial judgment was thrown out as we were led through beautifully landscaped gardens, into gorgeous courtyards, and amazing bedrooms, all the while with Alberto explaining the history of this fascinating building. Definitely a highlight of the trip so far. It also managed to rain while we were inside, for the first time in 69 days of travel. It was a very welcome sight, as we had been struggling with the constant dry heat for weeks. Evidently so had the streets of the European cities, with their complete lack of public sanitation. To quote Dave in Bordeaux 'the whole of Europe smells of piss'. I think it would need to rain consistently for a week to sort that out, but one afternoon of rain was a good start.

We had a small emergency in Granada, where there was a problem either with all the ATMs or with our bank cards and we could not withdraw any money for hours. We were down to our last €10 in cash, so we did what any sensible people would do - we went and spent it on beer. Thankfully, whatever the issue was was rectified and we were able to withdraw more cash and buy more beer. Phew.

Our next Spanish stop was Valencia. We arrived late on Sunday evening, after travelling on a bus all day, and our (super awesome) host Nini had told us to meet him at his work. His workplace turned out to be a bar with Fosters (!) on tap, and when we arrived he was drinking beer and chatting with people. This 'work' it turned out, is actually his hobby - a language exchange program connecting people of different backgrounds to help develop their English, Spanish, German, French or whatever it is they want to learn. We grabbed a beer (Estrella, in case you're wondering. We did not touch the Fosters.) and joined in the fun. We did try to sharpen up our Spanish skills, but mostly we just used it as a great way to meet interesting people. Everybody was happy to have a chat and meet the 'Aussies' (Nini had made us like mini celebrities in Valencia. He himself is a celebrity in Valencia and the fame by association was good for us). We made friends with Americans, Spaniards, Brits, and a whole bunch of others and they were all so lovely. Except for one guy. This guy was obsessed with the crocodile hunter, and once he found out we were Australian it was all he wanted to talk about. I'm not joking, he gave me a blow by blow of how Steve Irwin died, as if I was not aware. He also wanted to discuss with me how sad Steve's widow Terri must still be every time she thinks about it. I say 'me' because by this stage Dave had slowly moved his chair away from the table until he was far enough away to be completely out of the conversation and just abandoned me as I listened to tales of Steve Irwin for 15 minutes. He's a great bloke that Dave. 

Language Exchange took up three of the four nights we spent in Valencia so on our last night we thought it was high time to take ourselves out for a traditional paella. Paella actually comes from Valencia and in their traditional version meat and seafood are never mixed together. The Valencian paella we ordered contained chicken and rabbit and it was really delicious. But I still reckon, traditional or not, you can't go wrong with a bit of chorizo and some prawns. Yes, I prefer the bastardised Aussie paella over the authentic one. I never said I was a paragon of culture!

You might recall that we have swam a couple of times in the ocean and found the water just a little bit too nippy, and we were keenly awaiting arriving at and swimming in the Mediterranean. Well we got our chance in Valencia, trotting off to the beach on a typically hot day. We ran into the water, and holy shit, it was like being in a giant salty bath. I'm not kidding, that water was so warm it was not even remotely refreshing. We stayed in for 10 awkward minutes before agreeing that it was just too weird. And yes, I understand we are never happy, but dammit I'm Goldilocks and I just want to swim at a beach where the water is 'just right'.

Barcelona was the next port of call, and we were keen to make up for our trip here in 2011 where we pretty much only saw the inside of the train station and the beach (don't ask). We were staying with Pablo in a great location, only problem was we couldn't find it - this is becoming a familiar tale. We hit up KFC AKA The Dirty Bird for some free wifi and 10 minutes later Pablo was there to show us the way. We were located just off Placa Reial which is a very busy and noisy square, not a place to stay if you really want to sleep, but it was a lot of fun. Especially staying with Pablo. He bought us beer and 5 litres of water to welcome us, and proceeded to give us a very graphic demonstration of how sick we would be if we were not careful with our food hygiene in Turkey. Very fun guy. 

Day one was dedicated to seeing the one thing that we were devastated to miss out on last time - Sagrada Familia. Definitely worth the wait, it is an absolute work of art, inside and out. It rivals Palace of Versailles as the most beautiful man-made thing we have ever seen and no matter what your religious beliefs you cannot help but be amazed by the story Gaudi is trying to tell with this building. The thing that impressed me the most was that this was a project he undertook with 100% certainty that he would never see it finished, yet with 100% faith that the works would continue after his death and would be faithful to the original concept he designed. 

After Sagrada Familia we decided to chase down some more Gaudi masterpieces, and followed the trail of them back to La Rambla. It was very interesting to see the casas he designed, but also to see how much the surrounding architecture had been obviously inspired by his legacy. There are some gorgeous buildings in Barcelona, with windows to die for. If I win tattslotto I know exactly where I'm buying my holiday home.

One fantastic thing that we did in Barcelona, and that I encourage everybody to do if it's available in a city you're travelling to was Eat With. Eat With is another creation of the new 'sharing economy' we find ourselves in, like Blablacar and Airbnb. The concept is simple, you go to somebody's house and they cook dinner for you. There's a bit more to it than that, the 'chefs' go through a pretty rigorous screening process to ensure that the diners are going to get an experience worthy of what they have paid, but essentially it's a delicious meal cooked by strangers. We were lucky enough to book in for a Saturday night dinner at Alberto and Ella's house in the next neighbourhood. Alberto is Italian and Ella is from Melbourne and they met and fell in love at an Eat With dinner a few years ago and now they host guests together in their apartment. Seriously, stop it. It's like the best rom-com plot ever. This was actually one of our favourite nights of the whole trip. The food was incredible - we would have paid much more for the same quality in a restaurant. Alberto and Ella were lovely, and we also met a whole bunch of great people. There were 12 guests that night, and we all sat together, chatted, ate our four courses, and drank Spanish wine. We spent a lot of time talking with a couple from Britain who were travelling with their four children, and a young couple from Melbourne who are now living in Rotterdam. It was just a great way to spend a night and so much more enjoyable than going to a restaurant and getting a table for two (no offence to Dave, but we have eaten a LOT of meals just the two of us in the last few months). I loved it, and if you ever get the chance to do it you definitely should.

Alberto and Ella also gave us the inside tip that we needed to hit up Festival de Gracia which was happening at exactly the time we were in Barcelona. This is a super fun street party, mainly for residents but they very kindly allow tourists to join in the festivities. So the very next night we decided to see what it was all about. It was amazing. Entire streets are closed off for days and decorated in a theme (Flinstones, Japan, anti Nuclear power, children's birthday party [this street somehow ALWAYS smelt like lollies, it was the best]), stages are set up in various squares, EVERYWHERE is selling cheap beer, and the people are all in high spirits. We took it all in and then camped out at the folk stage, where a fabulous six-piece Spanish folk bank absolutely owned the night. The band included my favourite instrument, the double bass, and I drunkenly proclaimed that I was going to learn it when I get home. Watch this space. Don't watch it actually, I can't handle that sort of pressure. But if you see me in 5 years busking with my double bass in Bourke Street Mall PLEASE throw me a gold coin or higher.

Guell Park was another highlight, another Gaudi masterpiece (and clearly Tim Burton's inspiration for a whole bunch a movies) that we happily viewed in the rain. Oh yeah, it rained again you guys. Actually, Barcelona's weather was the BEST! Consistently under 30 degrees, I even had cause to wear pants one day. PANTS! I had been seriously considering ditching them as they had been collecting dust in my backpack for 8 weeks. I had forgotten what it was like to walk 100 metres without sweating profusely, to sleep under a sheet (spoiler alert: in the future I sleep under a DOONA again), to dry myself after a shower and remain dry for more than 5 minutes, and to actively choose to sit somewhere that isn't located in full shade. In short, I really appreciated the weather in Barcelona.

Of course, a city like Barcelona always throws up good times. Like the rival €1 tapas bars we found across the street from each other and ate at both of them just to encourage competition. Or the American guy on a shocking comedown who announced to his (completely unaware) girlfriend in the queue for felafels that he had decided he was never leaving and was going to live in Barcelona. Or a lazy Sunday lunch spent at Le Quinze Nits watching the shenanigans of Placa Reial unfold. Or heading to the local Irish pub to watch Barcelona get thumped in the soccer (they call it football over there, weird huh?) and then seeing everyone still wearing their Barcelona jerseys the next day, proud as ever. 

One not so good time I have to include is the Magic Fountain of Barcelona. Apparently this fountain display is fucking amazing. You have to see it to believe it. I say apparently because we missed it. Twice. Friday night we rolled in at 12:20am ready to be delighted by it, only to hear that it gets turned off at 12am. No worries, we have three more nights here we think, let's find a rooftop bar instead and check it out another night. Saturday we are at our Eat With dinner. Sunday we are at Festival de Gracia. Monday we roll in for the 9pm display, the first of the evening because we want to watch the soccer afterwards. No 9pm show takes place. It's cool we say, they mustn't have thought it was dark enough. We wait for the 9:30pm show. It doesn't happen either. We really have to leave now, we have a date with sport and beer. On our way out we notice a sign saying that the show occurs from Thursday to Sunday. It doesn't even fucking happen on Monday. We have wasted 40 minutes watching a completely still fountain, fending off beer sellers and selfie stick toters for nothing! I did get to pat a dog though, so it wasn't a complete waste of time. Not just any random dog either, he was carrying his own lead in his mouth. Actually what am I saying? Patting that dog has gotta be a top 5 highlight of all of Barcelona. Ignore the previous paragraph. I patted a really well trained dog. It was awesome.

And that's all she wrote. Spain was amazing in every way and we were super sad to leave. But there's still so much more of the world to see and so much more cake to be eaten!

Oh wait, can someone please confirm wether or not Joe Hockey picked up a cake and threw it at a woman in parliament? I'm pretty sure Dave just dreamed it, but stranger things have happened! Love to everyone, be good. xox