Statistics Update No. 2

Books read: 15

Weird delicacies consumed: turtle, goanna, escargot, haggis, alpaca

Modes of transport utilised: commercial plane, car, train, bike, on foot, tuk-tuk, bus, tube, kayak, motorbike, slowboat, car ferry, hanglider, 4 seater plane, raft, subway.

Days spent in hospital: 4

Organs removed: 1

Days since I left home: 212

Days remaining: 16

Number of countries visited (including transit): 17

Hours spent on buses: way too many

Number of different beers recorded as being consumed before my list was stolen: 56

Number of travel insurance claims made: 2

Photos taken: 1754

Highest Altitude Reached: 4910m

Argentina - minus a bag and an appendix

I sat on the bus to Buenos Aires with a sense of optimism at the time ahead of us in Argentina. Brazil had been amazing (although expensive) so why shouldn't Argentina be the same? Right? Wrong.

It all began at the bus terminal in BA. We'd managed to purchase our bus tickets to El Bolson, and after putting it off I finally decided to answer the calls of my rumbling stomach. The three of us sat at a cafe, my big bag was on one side of my chair and the little one (with everything important) on the other. All of a sudden some guy approached us with what appeared to be an offer of 2 pesos (50 cents). I was somewhat confused but sure enough about 30 seconds later as I reached to grab my iPod from my bag, it was not there. Great. I was partly to blame as any backpacker should know to have the strap wrapped around their leg although after a 24 hour bus I was a bit lax.

After a run around the bus station the bag was all but gone. Contents included:
iPod
BOSE headphones
Phone
Australian passport (luckily still had UK)
My journal
Camera
Credit cards, travel documents etc

Luckily for me I had backed up my photos only a day or two earlier so photos were not a problem. For me, the only loss was the irreplaceable - my journal and my famous beer list for my whole journey (It was in the high 50s)

The policia didn't speak a word of English so I reverted to my limited Spanish and soon after the phrasebook. Eventually an English speaking policeman was called and I made a very specific appointment for "sometime between 10am and 1pm on Monday." Turns out I would see BA ahead of schedule.

After finding a hostel, we jumped in a taxi, me with one less bag to worry about. For me, the next few days were spent rebuying lost items, sending countless emails to mum and the travel insurance company, a pub crawl to forget about the losses, hanging out with Tessa and Niklas and hanging out in the middle of a massive march following the death of Argentina's ex-president.

After recollecting myself we decided to scrap the idea of a two week spanish course, instead opting for a hike in northern Patagonia. 27 hours on a bus and we arrived at El Bolson, a small town of about 30,000 (vast majority hippies). After spending the first day a market buying various pieces of arts and craft we packed our bags with the necessities and headed off for a 3 day walk along Rio Azul, a crystal clear glacial river that winds it's way between some breathtaking mountains. This is what I'd been waiting for and it definitely didn't disappoint.

Heading off "into the wild" (pardon the cliche)

We were "accompanied" by a two girls - one Argentine and one Australian. They were too slow...so we bailed on them.

After crossing some primitive suspension bridges that stated "maxima una persona" and were definitely defying almost every basic rule of engineering, we began our ascent. This was followed by a descent and then, yep, another ascent. Following a river isn't as simple as it sounds. As I rounded a corner I demanded an orange break - purely to spend as much time as we could savoring a truly beautiful view of Rio Azul snaking it's way through the valley and snowcapped mountains providing the backdrop.

Three hours into the hike we stumbled upon La Playita, a small refugio that fronted onto a pristine glacial river. With the promise of "freshly roasted bread" the three of us split our avocados and spread it on some of the tastiest bread I have ever eaten. We spent lunchtime chatting to the inhabitant of La Playita - a 27 year old guy who left his life and responsibilities to live out in the middle of nowhere. Into the Wild anyone? He provided a sound argument for his reason to live out there - he had me convinced, though winter didn't sound like the best of fun.

After more delicious bread and avocado, it was time to head on to El Ratamal, our refugio for the night. On the way we found Cajon de Azul - a huge canyon we had to cross. The bridge was four logs laid across a 2m gap in the canyon. Safety first in Argentina.

To say that El Ratamal has the best view of anywhere I've ever stayed wherever been is an understatement. Wherever I looked I was greeted by moutains - some bare, some snowcapped - a river weaved it's way behind the Refugio, a forest encompassed the foreground. We sipped on our mate and reflected(very popular Argentine drink similar to tea)
"This is living eh?"
"Yeah buddy!"

The following photo gives an idea of the kind of purity and jaw dropping scenery we experienced on the hike.

Dinner consisted of an entree of salted tostadas followed by a main of rice and beans one way. So, bread with rice and beans. In the morning we added orange zest to try and actually get the tiniest shred of flavour - no success.

What was to take place that morning I will not attempt to describe as I do not have adequate superlatives. Actually, I don't think any word would convey the sense of freedom, privilege and pure happiness I experienced as I looked out on what lay before me. Sean, Dave and I spent at least a few hours sitting at our vantage point conversing about various topics such as the East vs West rap war, trendiness, sean's likeness Uncle Ho and many other unrelated things.

We returned to El Ratamal, Sean and I consuming a delicious organic pizza for lunch. The three of us tramped back to La Playita for our second night in the Patagonian wilderness.

The guy at La Playita (his name evades me) spent the afternoon proudly showing us his new veggie garden and local waterfall. Then I decided it would be a good idea to swim across Rio Azul, the river that originates from a glacier. Apparently it was between 2 and 4 degrees. Refreshing to say the least. I didn't give it much thought because as I rejoiced in reaching the other side Dave voiced the harsh truth.
"You know you have to get back now?"
"Shit shit shit"

For me that night changed the general vibe of the hike from one of euphoria to something more in the region of extreme pain. I awoke in the early hours of day 3 with what I thought to be stomach cramps - presumably bad food somewhere along the line, it was South America after all. I spent the morning clutching at my abdomen and vomiting. At 9 I broke it to the boys that I would have to get back to civilisation - the pain was escalating fast. Thankfully Dave carried my pack as I was left to stumble along the track, stopping every few 100m to curl up into the fetal position and attempt to restore my energy (to no avail) and occasionally empty the few remaining contents of my stomach. For me it was a psychological battle just to get over that next hill or across the bridge. I was getting delirious. I began to freak out a bit when I discovered I couldn't read the writing on my water bottle. I'll take the opportunity to thank Seany and Dave for having the patience through the whole debacle.

I can also thank Dave for taking this photo, and trying to see the hilarity in it all. Dave said "Trust me, you'll thank me for taking this photo one day" to which I responded "errrghhhhhhhh"

After arriving back to "base" we called for a taxi. I tried to convince myself it wasn't as bad as I though and maybe it was just a 24 hour bug. After a horrific night I decided that definitely wasn't the case.

I was off to the hospital at 9am and the doctor quickly confirmed my growing suspicion - appendicitis. By 12 I was less one body part and recovering in a hospital bed. The doctor came in and explained in broken English that it was taken out due to the fact my appendix was "gangrenous" and that it was lucky I came in when I did otherwise "bad things would have happened"

I quickly became the celebrity patient as I was the "australiano" who spoke nada in espanol. Nurses came in to ask 21 questions and it always seemed to end up as a game of charades.
What do you do?
Are you married?
What are your hobbies?
Where are your amigos?

The list went on... Eventually when I could stand again I took a walk to the bathroom and my first thought and looking in the mirror was "Man, I look like a recovering drug addict." The boys came in to visit bringing various things including Dave's Game Boy, avocado and bread and my beloved iPod. I managed to hack hospital wifi and spent copious unproductive hours on facebook.

I got "discharged" yesterday, a process which consisted of removing my drip and giving me my prescription. It took me half an hour to realise I could go. A nurse came in and exclaimed "You leave now?!"
"Oh. Now? Right now?"
"Si"

Since then activity has been minimal apart from some aggressive debating last night and a few SLR camera lessons from my Finnish friend Niklas. For now I'm in limbo as to what travel plans will be for the remaining month but one thing's for sure: I'm not going home early! Ciao from El Bolson. Thanks for everyone for the appendicitis sympathy.