Whores, Fours and One Eyed Jacks

Shame!

Do you remember playing Pocker Dice and you had a choice of calling the Jokers? I have forgotten exactly how it was played but I do remember the one call was "Whores, Fours and One Eyed Jacks" !  All we are missing is One Eyed Jacks!

Hilarious, absolutely hilarious. Picture the scene. We are travelling through Argentinian Pampas. The sky is largely blue, the birds are tweeting and the other bird (Ewa) is tweeting over the intercom! Wind in our sails, we are happy. Two hundred kilometres further on the sky changes colour, the fuel is low and the wind in our sails is a little more than it should be, we are 10 km from Bolivar on Route 205. We need fuel and preferably I would like to get it without getting rained upon are the thoughts in my head. I increase our speed a touch and before we know it a fuel station is in sight. Even with my dark glasses removed the sky is black, very black. While we are refuelling I say to Ewa that this really does not look like camping weather and maybe we are going to have to extend the budget a little for a more substantial roof over our heads. I ask Garmin, and it informs me that we have a number of options; the closest camping option is 76 km away so that is a nonstarter, which justifies an unbudgeted cost! The closest option is a Motel half a km away along with a variety of other hotels within a 5 km range. We get on the bike and decide to do a recci. We have not gone 200 meters when very large drops of precipitation start bouncing off the windscreen. I do an abrupt U turn back to the garage. We JUST made it to shelter when the skies opened, lightning and rain on a grand scale. Further expence, a cup of coffee in the garage café while waiting for the storm to pass. As the cars and busses drive in and out, I reflect on our exposure to the elements of which I am sure the occupants of the bus are totally oblivious. The rain abates somewhat, a minor drizzle is no match for our riding gear and we decide on the motel half a km away, that is where we will go!

The 205 is a main highway, we see the Motel sign and turn off down a gravel road which looks somewhat like a river. Ewa decides to walk it just in case we topple in the mud! We arrive there are two signs Estrada and Salida  we take Salida and drive up to an entrance boom where there is an  intercom mounted in a cover on a wall.  Ewa presses the button and a Spanish voice answers. Ewa looks puzzled and says “non-comprehendo” and stares blankly at the hole in the wall. I get a little impatient as I am getting wet, so I drive through the gap at the side of the boom. Staring at intercoms is not going to crack it we need one to one contact! There are car ports at the back of which is a door with a number on it. A man and a woman appear, the woman very briefly. “Neuve” (Nine) says the man and disappears. I drive to neuve and Ewa walks, we are please for the shelter of the carport. We open the door, walk inside and the phone by the bed rings! Ewa answers. “Quanto Costa” she says? “50 pesos and hour” says the telephone. “We vamos manyana, qunato costa for that “says my wife in her best Spanish? “Non cmprehendo” This is not working. Ewa puts the phone down and it rings again, so I pick it up and in doing so I start looking at the décor in the room. Mirrors on the ceiling, mirrors on the walls, coloured lights………….the penny drops! They only sell the room by the hour. That was the bed rate, what was confusing Ewa was the conversation about the extras! To ensure absolute annominity there is no reception! Payment is done through a feeding hatch in the wall and all other details are dealt with over the phone. We double up with laughter; we are standing in a real live Brothel. Just then the door opens and a very apologetic man tries to explain the workings of the establishment. He is profusely apologetic and offers us the chocolates above the bed! I have to say the rooms were very well appointed! We drive away in the rain, highly amused with Ewa making all sorts of suggestion into my headphones! My reply I think was that I battle to get my leg over the motorbike. We are still chuckling. We are often asked why the motorbike? I reply that it makes for interesting travel!

Back to the beginning:

It has been a week of good news friendships and tears of parting. The Blogs of our African escapade were accessed by Doffwhocares.blogspot.com. I changed the name as I thought it pretentious, but our last week in Buenos Aires has again highlighted that it is the people you meet along the way that REALLY make the difference to our adventure.

Firstly it was my visit to Munitz Hospital for the last time. Tuesday saw me drained of blood for the last time (well that is what it felt like!) Then Wednesday Ewa and I went in to get the results. That I was told I was clear of Malaria, Foot & Mouth, Athletes Feet, Hepatitis A B C D etc.etc. Was purely incidental. The real pain was saying good-bye to the unit doctors. NEVER have I met such caring wonderful people. We had tears in our eyes as we hugged and kissed good-bye. This group of people went way beyond the call of duty to care for me. There is a trait that we have experienced throughout our travels in Argentine. There is a lack of arrogance that appears to purvey their daily lives. It is humbleness, be it Doctors or Custom Officials. I hope it is not the last time that we meet any of the doctors who treated me and I hope that next time we meet we will be able to communicate in Spanish. Related our first encounter with the Port Officials in my last Blog. Well my next encounter was just as amazing. We knocked on the White Door and collected our queue number, “Dies” and took our appropriate seat. It is now Friday 2.00pm. There is a long week-end ahead, so I have resigned myself to only getting my bike after the week-end, as not only do I have to go through all the Customs Hoops, once the paperwork is all done I have to somehow find Gemis 1. Don’t ask me what Gemis means of where it is located. Further to that, once I have located
Gemis 1 I now have to locate my bike, unpack the crate, fit the windscreen, wing mirrors and secure the handlebars, buy petrol and pray that the battery has not gone flat over the past three month and it is 2.00 pm.

After many jokes, the papers are all signed, stamped and copied. I thank them all profusely and skip down the stairs waving the sheath of papers to my awaiting wife. It is now 3.45 pm and Gemis 1 has been marked on my street map, it is 6km away. We run outside and look for a taxi. The official who has done all my paperwork happens to be going someplace and passes us in the car park. He knows where I have to go, so he tells be to follow him back into the Customs building where he shouts up to someone who works for MSC Shipping and instructs him to take us to Gemis 1 in his private car! Had he not done this I doubt if we would have found the place in a week. We get dropped off in front of the office where we are to clear our last hurdle. All this while Ewa has been saying “I bet this one wants a backhand”. If you can put yourself in our shoes, we are in COMPLETELY foreign surroundings, hardly ANYBODY speaks English and all we can do is gesticulate, laugh and point to words in our dictionary.

Sign language is sufficient to have us following an amazingly patient official into the furthest warehouse, where at the back of the furthest warehouse behind a stack of other crates I am told is my motorbike. It is 4.45pm. The forklift driver makes short shift of its remote location and before we know it my motorbike crate is 4 metres above our heads doing circles. “Please God don’t let him drop it at this late stage” think I as it is delivered to my feet. I nearly cry as I make a hole in the plastic covering, revealing my trusty steed trussed up to the crate! We now have five helping hands stripping the crate assembling the bike and I realise I AM going to leave with my bike, but I need petrol as it was drained for shipping. “No Problem says one of the helpers; I will take my car to get you some as the closest petrol station is some way away”!

The senior customs inspector arrives to inspect everything and gives me the all clear; I am free to drive away. I just stood there dumfounded. I was told I would never be able to clear the bike and it would cost me plenty in bribes etc. We drove away dead on 6.00pm. No bribes, $1000 saved on a quote I received to do the job and the pleasure of meeting unofficious officials who went out of their way to assist us. I had to pinch myself as it really highlighted how we are conditioned in Africa to putting up with arrogant officials. We like Argentinians!

Negotiating rush hour traffic through the centre of Buenos Aires with Ewa on the back and traffic coming at you on the opposite side of the road was interesting to say the least, but we made it to 1545 Mexico where we received a rapturous welcome from all our friends at Kilca Hostel.

What Kilka lacks in facilities is certainly made up by Guedo and his sister Daniella’s warmth and friendliness; they really go the extra mile to make the place feel like home away from home. One of the positives about getting Malaria we spent quite some time in Buenos Aires, more than we expected. While we were there we walk ourselves to a standstill and managed to really get a feel for the place. It is a very pleasant city to visit. We asked ourselves why it was so pleasant, as it does not have the natural physical features of the beautiful cities of the world. First of all it is the people; they are SO friendly and helpful. Secondly it is the variety of the architecture. Thirdly it is very European in with its neighbourhood shops who know their customers. Then there are the trees. I am sure that if you asked people if there were trees in Buenos Aires they would not comment, but believe me there are hundreds of trees and a fair number of open spaces, and lastly it is very alive on all artistic fronts. We really liked the place and this was in no small measure because of Guido and his sister who were a reflection of all the people we encountered. We were sad to leave, but leave we did a day later than planned!

When we compare ourselves to the other people who ride bikes around the world we are NOT bikers! We love riding the bike and all the experiences that that brings, but our knowledge of the biking world is very limited. I have always felt secure in that I am confident that I can fix most things mechanical, but I do not go looking to fixing things. So when my bike had been duly scrutinised by Mike, Darryl and Shaun (REAL BIKERS) and I was told that the tread on my rear tyre would only last to the outskirts of BA, I had to take them seriously, and hurried off to get a new 150 * 80 *18 rear tyre. I did not even know what the numbers stood for let alone had the tools to re-shoe my steed. So I am much in debt to the three of them who taught me how to use the side stand of the bike to change the tyre. Who said you can’t teach an old dog new tricks? I am much the wiser. I still need to purchase the tools, but at least I know how to change the tyre! Soon we will be REAL Bikers!

Friends at Kilka

DH @ Carnival

We have a bit of a dilemma. There is a long week-end in BA as it is Carnival week-end and should we be staying to see it. We were told it was not as big as Rio and as it was a holiday it would be a good time to get away. However we had a great deal of fun on our last evening. Aerosol Soap is on sale. Two cans later I was covered, but I managed to get my own back on the culprit kids and everybody in between. It was great fun.

Guido and Ewa 

By mid-day Sunday we were away, we had planned to take Route 5 out of the city and ended up on Route 205 which went in the general direction of where we wanted to go, but hell what did it matter, we were here to see Argentine and were about to see some places we had not planned to see! What did it matter! WE stop the bike as I just wanted to make sure that we were not going full circle and heading back into the city! A bus driver stopped his bus and asked us if we needed help. We managed to agree on a certain course of action bade our farewell’s and both went our various ways. The passengers on the bus had no problem with the driver stopping to help two OAP’s! Now tell me that that would happen in SA? We really need to think about the important things in life.

It is 5.00pm the first place to camp is full. We did not factor in it was a long week-end! We ended up on a massive campsite on Lobus Lagoona. Camper everywhere. Our bike is a real attraction. Ewa has made friends with Patricia who is walking back from the shop. By the time we select a site Ewa has a new best friend. We make camp and within the hour have Marcello and children Camilla, Natasha and Lucio offering us chocolate and assistance. Marcello has Indian, German, Russian and Italian bloodlines. We laugh, hug, swop stories and get given mementos and we don’t even talk Spanish!

Marcello, Daughters and Ewa

We are going West. I am including a Google Map for those who are interested. We are having a great time.

At this moment I am writing this blog in the dark in General Acha municipal camp site, as we prepared our evening meal the surrounding noise level has risen…not from cars or passing trucks but the homecoming of millions of parakeets who are roosting in all the trees above and around us. The din  has not abated as the parakeets discuss the feeding possibilities that the Pampas will bring…..miles and miles of cultivated crops…corn, soya, sunflowers, sugar cane etc etc..

The Parakeets did not stop all night; it is hard to imagine the din created by thousands of the creatures. They were cute when they started to arrive, but by the next morning I would have blown them away with a shot-gun!

Where is my Gun?

Lunch Break

Right Road?

As you travel West the miles upon miles of cultivated crops gradually change to scrub. The large red road on the map decided to change to one of those thin black roads. 40 km and an awful lot of dust later we emerged in the sunlight onto a main East West Arterial.

 Now we know why the busses turned of onto the thin red road! Thanks to Mr Garmin we were pointed to an absolutely wonderful camp site right on the River Negro 8km from a delightful farming little town called Chichinales. Melons, apples, pears abound…we like it here, think we will take a breather. We are the only people in this huge camp-site. There is a bird hide on a little island and massive amounts of birds and lots of the usual dogs, but they all slept quietly last night.  No need to rush. Thank you Mr Garmin!

Rio Negro Camp

Couple of Paintings while in BA

Relaxing in BA

Coptic Church BA