Home » Argentina » And I'm Spent!

Ummm, where did the year go? One minute I’m swinging an all-too-indolent backside in a hammock, next thing I know I’m home and dry. So what about the last two weeks? Well with little under a fortnight left, finally I flew out of Colombia - with virtually no doubt, the most phenomenal place I will ever go - and flew straight to Buenos Aires for one last stab at becoming the youngest man in history ever to contract gout.

And I'm Spent!

Graham Perkins
2006-10-07 12:27:32

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available she’d come around and we’d go out. Or stay in. Clubs with her friends, walking around the parks, looking through the absolute tat sold in the antique markets, going out to restaurants and bars, I really feel as though I have a lot to be grateful to her for.

By my last night in the hostel I think I was starting to get a bit emotional and tried to buy champagne for the other travellers. As the champagne was all out I agreed to white wine and Red Bull which, predictably, tasted like arse. Funny watching the Frenchies trying to drink it though, ha!

Following this came the 363rd and final full day of the world’s most preposterous holiday, which I spent frantically running around buying yet more presents for just about everyone I’ve ever met, I reckon. All finished by early evening and I thought I’d go out in style and pimp Buenos Aires. (All strictly on credit, you understand!)

My demands were simple enough; just start with somewhere good to eat that was hellishly expensive. Actually I checked my credit card the other day and felt like a bit of a loser since the bill for both of us was scarcely £50. I mean, that‘s not exactly going to accrue much interest while I sit around at home thinking of more and more half-arsed excuses not to get a job from one week to the next.

And that was pretty much it! Went back to the hostel the next morning to collect my things and made my way to the airport. The flight was ok although I did have the only seat on the plane with a broken TV. Luckily the two old dears right in front of me were all the entertainment I needed, regularly getting up and breaking into their deep vein thrombosis routines about an inch from my face. Fifteen hours later and I was home. That Wembley definitely looked different from the air. And I’m still looking forward to the much-heralded 24-hour binge-drinking, street-fighting heaven that I’d been promised every town and village up and ...

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