Chile

Another classic Pichilemu scene...
A cosey little house we couch surfed in...
Quiet a mouthful this one...
Enjoying some great Chileano wine...

Local lad gapin´the pavement...
Lazy Pichilemu streets...
A llama for a pet?
Classic Pichilemu scene, that wave in the background had been peeling for hundreds of metres already...

Another sick beach mini-ramp we scored...
Surf check...
Jimmy jumping for joy...
Our abode for the week...
View from the deck, the waves were never under 4ft...
Great food, great people...
Frothing out after a surf out front...
Hitching back from Punta de Lobos...


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The big wild Punta de Lobos...
The point out the front of our place...
Afternoon ¨mate¨ Cata brought over from Argentina...
Jimmy feeding the horse...

A very snaky road through the Andes

The desolate Chilean border
I woke up in the morning on the bus to this....

Cata and I were absolutely FROTHING or ¨frosting¨(as Cata mistakenly first pronounced haha) for our approaching Chilean adventure - we bought a cheap tent and set up a camp sight in the living room. I caught an overnight 24 hour bus winding through the beautiful, snow capped Andes Mountain Ranges arriving in Santiago. We jumped on a 5 hour bus down to this epic little fishing village called Pichilemu. Reminding me of Uruguay, this place was also caught in time, awesome scenery, awesome vibe and AWESOME waves. Home to 3 perfect lefts, we spent our days surfing with sea lions under cactus covered cliffs and retiring to steak and red wine at night.

After a very soulfully satisfying week in Pichilemu we headed back north for the much anticipated Lollapalooza festival. It was an awesome two days watching bands rock out to the backdrop of Santiago and the towering Andes in the distance. After two long days of partying in Bella Vista Santiago, we were ready for the coast again. Cata had to head back for Uni, and actually missed her flight due to her ID being in my wallet - though she eventually negociated another flight and all was well. Jimmy and I heard about some waves up north - little did we know the bus was 24 hours. So, after driving a full day through the most deserted, lifeless landscapes I could ever imagine, we arrived in the fishing turned mining oasis of Iqueque.

Uruguay

A bitchen local gig
Our little hostel

Goooooaaaaaaalllllll!

After catching up with a couple of mates from OZ in Buenos Aires, we decided to go chase some waves, across the bay in Uruguay - another place I knew nothing about. Arriving to a run down hotel in the capital Monte Video - I was impressed by the well kept colonial streetscapes, though after seeing an old man get robbed and getting heckled by crackheads - we were pretty keen to go coastal...

We spent the first couple of days surfing Atlantic windswell, skating a red beach ramp and casually cruising the quiet sandy streets, just north of Punta Del Este. We then headed 5 hours through Latin versions of Western QLD towns to Punta Del Diablo. Contrary to the name (Point of the Devil) this place was amazing. A bohemian fishing village caught in time - the village was made up cosey A frame shacks without fences, sleepy sandy streets, tanned locals with dreds and wooden earrings and windswept deserted beaches with fun waves.

Although my photoes don´t fully portray my experience there, the coastal towns of Uruguay had a real special warm feeling, very unique, relaxed and we were welcomed everywhere we went. This runs true for all the Uruguayans I have met - in Nicaragua, Costa Rica and Chile - always very harmonious and content with life.

¨Mate¨

Another fun skate sesh with El Negro...
Mate!
Slowly adding the water...
Pouring in the yerbas...

One particular interesting flavour I´ve been introduced to in Buenos Aires is the famous and extremely popular Argentinian and Uruguayan tea like drink ¨mate¨ (maa-tae). Mate is made from special yerbas (herbs) and is drunk communally out of an ornate, ceremonial looking cup with an elaborate filtered steel straw. As everyone has their own special methods of preparing and serving the mate (actually a bit of a process), there is always only one server who refills the cup and adds sugar (or honey etc) for the next person, and tourists quickly learn to not fiddle with straw! At first the potent taste was too much, like a fortified green tea with a kick, however now I´ve grown to love settling down for a mate session in the afternoon.

Polo

One fine sunny day, a friend Cata´s ¨Lolly¨ - invited us to come and watch her boyfriend play professional Polo. The grounds were immaculate and located rite in the middle of the beautiful suberb of Palermo. I was interested to hear that the late Kerry Packer is a famous patron of Polo here in Argentina after investing a lot of money and bringing over prized horses to improve the sport. I´d never experienced a game before and was really impressed by the intensity and speed of the match. How the players approached the tiny ball at full gallop - with horses closing in from every direction - managed to smash a goal was beyond me! After the match we chatted in Catillano (Spanish) with the players in their very stylish, suave traditional Polo get ups before an afternoon session of steak and wine at one of the bustling street restaurants nearby.

Beer n cheese - shopping is a real treat everytime...
One of the many parks
Funky retro markets in San Telmo
Cata´s room and studio

Cheap and delicious

Argentina

Meandering from Vancouver through LA and Houston down to Buenos Aires - I was trying to picture what living in Buenos Aires would look and feel like, though I really had no idea. Stopping shortly in LA and having a conversation with a Mexican inter-terminal bus driver got me excited to reenter the Hispanic universe. Arriving in the airport and paying the suprise $100 Visa (only for Australia, USA and Canada) I exited into the perfect warm sunshine and was embraced warmly by Catalina after not meeting for 2 months. The bus gradually found its way into the centre of the huge colonial city where I marvelled at towering statues of soldiers on horesback and beautifully kept parks full of people relaxing and enjoying the sun. Finally, turning into Calle Ayacucho - in the very Metro Italiano suberb of Recoleta, I was impressed by the bustling narrow streets dominated by independant specialty food stores, ice cream and coffee shops and street vendors selling everything from flowers to pirated dvds. Inside Cata´s apartment block, up the old caged elevator to the 2nd storey terraced apartment, I was welcomed in Spanish, kissed and hugged and treated to my first of many delicious meals.