Tigre and the Delta del Parana

Doin' it tough in the Parana Delta

We’ve discovered the perfect antidote to the craziness of Buenos Aires: the Delta del Parana. The Rio Parana is the second largest river in South America (the Amazon is, of course, the big mama). The delta is a maze of smaller rivers that flow from it, creating a community of dense, tropical and remote island hideaways.

Our hideaway is on the Rio Parana itself, accessible only by private boat or river ‘bus', which floats past crumbling colonial houses and tiny shacks nestled on the riverfront. People sit on their jetties and wave as the 'bus' goes past, or they throw a couple of empty water containers to the crew for refilling in Tigre.

We had planned to go kayaking through the smaller rivers, but the banana lounges beckoned and instead we’ve spent two glorious days sleeping, reading, swimming and watching the boats sail by. Tomorrow we’re taking the long route through the delta to Uruguay, where more beaches and relaxation await. Gee, life is tough.

Boca Junior v River Plate

Supporters of these two teams share two things in common: their love of football and their hatred for each other. Their games are meant to be explosive, and this one certainly didn’t disappoint. We were taken into the ground a couple of hours before kick-off to avoid any pre-match skirmishes. Riot police lined the route; barbed wire decorated the fences; and everyone was searched.

River plate fans wait for the match to start

We had tickets for the River Plate terrace behind one of the goals – we’d been told not to wear any yellow and blue (Boca’s colours) and within half an hour we realised why. Every single person around us was dressed in River colours from head to toe.

For more than fours hours, the stadium went mad with chanting, flares, drums, flags, trumpets, firecrackers, violent abuse, fist shaking and makeshift missiles. There were a couple of jittery moments when fights broke out among River supporters in the terraces, and when Boca and River supporters met after the match, but we survived. We'll stick a video up soon!

Carl, Dave and Em joining the craziness

More football photos

Hablar Espanyol?

San Telmo street art

"Eres bobo" means 'you are a fool' in Spanish. This was Pablo's final lesson to us today and you can bet it's one of the only phrases we remember after five days of spanish lessons in the Argentine capital, Buenos Aires.

Still, we can’t fault Pablo as a teacher. He was a wealth of knowledge about Argentina, Argentines and, of course, Buenos Aires. Under his tutelage, we learnt about choripan and chimmichurri, the murderous rivalry between local football teams River Plate and Boca Juniors, the history of tango, how to order our Bife de lomo and cervasa, and which was the best local vino tinto our money could buy.

We’re already starting to put these lessons to good use: late nights bar hopping through San Telmo; monstrous steaks washed down by generous amounts of red wine in Palermo; and afternoons exploring the streets of La Boca and Recoleto.

Tonight we're off to an underground tango club and tomorrow we're off to see River Plate take on Boca Juniors in the first pre-season derby of the season. Carl swears it was just coincidence, arriving in Buenos Aires the week of the first pre-season derby between local rivals, Boca Juniors and River Plate. I'm not convinced, but there was certainly no avoiding it.

Fluent Spanish will hopefully come later?

More Buenos Aires photos

Crossing the Andes

Strung out in Santiago

We've been languishing in Santiago for three days now. And when I say languishing, I really mean languishing. The heat has knocked the life out of our jetlagged and exhausted bodies and we've been sleeping for about 15 hours a day ... at least.

In a desperate bid to get ourselves going again, we've booked some spanish lessons in Buenos Aires and we're heading there tomorrow morning by bus. The journey is a big one - 24 hours straight over the Andes - but we've think its just what we need to get our traveller blood pumping once more. It's a slightly sadistic way of thinking, I admit, but to hell with it ... drastic times call for drastic measures.

Auckland for one night only!

We’ve (Australia) spent 17 years trying to turn Carl into a good Aussie, but 24 hours in New Zealand is all it takes for him to rediscover a little kiwi twang and a taste for Steinlager. “The new Steinlager Pure,” he hastens to add. But who really gives a damn. It’s still Steinlager and he’s still a kiwi.

I can’t judge him too harshly though. I almost swooned when I saw the selection of New Zealand white wine on sale in a good ol’ Aussie bottle-o in Queensland recently. And our old London flattie, Caskey, now works in Auckland for Lion Nathan Brewery and was keen to share what she'd learnt about booze since she'd left us!

Needless to say, New Zealand has not seen the last of us.

Oh no, Ruddy's not home ...

Clearly someone told Ruddy that we haven't been voting (we know, we are ashamed of ourselves), so he didn't bother to stick around for our visit to Canberra. Carl was beside himself, as you can imagine. Still Sarah and Ash's little tour around town cheered him up ... and now he knows that his decision to dump the All Blacks and adopt an Aussie accent was the right one.

Parliament House

PS. Of course, Carl knows I have published this ... he he ...

Not long now, Ruddy

Carl can barely contain his excitement. We’re finally making our way down the Old Hume Highway and even he can’t escape the lure of the Aussie capital.

Established as Australia’s government base in 1901, Canberra is the epicentre of Aussie politics. It’s home to Old Parliament House, New Parliament House, the Aboriginal Tent Embassy, Kevin Rudd the new Aussie Prime Minister and our hosts, Ash and Sarah (who play no part in Aussie politics but deserve a mention alongside these heavy hitters all the same). It was also my home for five years during high school so I’ve been threatening to bring Carl here for years … make him earn that Aussie passport.

Lucky for him, this is a flying visit. We’ll be in Canberra for one night only so he’ll have to skip the Mint, the War Memorial and Telstra Tower. Instead, we’ll treat him to a tour of my old haunts and a few beers at some salubrious Canberran watering hole. He’s gutted I can tell. But one day we’ll return so that he can learn all about the political history of this great nation. I promise.

PS. Yes, tongue is firmly in cheek.

Lovin' Sydney

No explanation necessary. These photos have it covered.

Circular Quay by night

The Sydney Opera House

The Sydney Harbour Bridge ... and good ol' Lunar Park smiling in the background

Bondi to Coogee by foot and other adventures in Little Britain, oops, I mean Sydney

An open beach - wooohooooooooooo

Now this more like it. Four days in Sydney and we’ve finally managed to find a beach that’s open. We’ve made some significant progress on our tans and have eaten almost every meal outdoors with the flies in true Aussie fashion.

Palm Beach

Palm Beach harbour

A visit to Palm Beach kickstarted our Aussie campaign. A 45-minute ferry-ride away from the sleepy central coast of New South Wales, Palm Beach is all mansions, cool cafes, designer shops and beautiful sandy beach. The arrival of the Leyton Hewitt clan has lowered the tone a bit these days, but we’d still live there …

TerrigalTaking in the sunset at Terrigal

Back on the central coast, Terrigal is a popular holiday resort town. We took a Brit there for a drink and she saw her first giant cockroach and a rat scurry across the beer garden. Geez, we really know how to turn it on for our visitors.

Bondi to Coogee

Bondi Beach

This 5km walk is a must for any visitor to Sydney. It takes you from British Bondi, past Clovelly and Tamarama, and ends with a pint or three at the infamous Coogee Bay Hotel. Not another Aussie in sight, but perhaps that's not a bad thing!

Clovelly and Tamarama beaches