CAUTIOUS CARGO ↑ This way up ↑: Argentina (the first time around) & Uruguay, the land of mystery. March

We´ve passed through so many countries since I last wrote to this journal, many of them more than once, and so my entries will not match my previous level of detail. This may be a good thing...

My last entry was from the Cochamo Valley in Chile, where we´d narrowly missed friend Jordan who we met in Lima, Peru. We´d arranged to catch him in Bariloche after crossing into Argentina, since he was working at a hostel on the top of a very steep hill in town, where we had great breakfasts (including home-made scones), drank lots of beer, chilled in the ´heated´pool, and also whilst in town, acquired some black market cash from the local kambios and ate at a nice veggie restaurant.

Bariloche seemed expensive compared to what we´d been told to expect so after three days of staying in a lovely wood-panelled ´matrimonial´ (complete with discarded love letter in one of the drawers), we split for El Bolson nearby, where the owners of a guesthouse let us camp in the garden for a few dollars a night. Three great (noisy) dogs and acorns dropping on the tent now and again. Real alpine feel to Argentina and very different to Chile. So many different trees and mountains in every direction. Spent a day walking in the hills of El Bolson, accompanied at one point by two mischievous puppies. Farm with pigs, blackberries everywhere and another elusive waterfall. Returned to the tent with purple hands.

We crossed the width of Argentina from El Bolson to Puerto Madryn on the Atlantic coast. It broke up the journey but we also intended on seeing the wildlife reserve at Peninsula Valdes. Again, this was very expensive and I think it was around this time that Argentina was becoming more of a country between us and Uruguay than a country we could afford to experience fully without working, or WWOOFing, or couch surfing, or something. With Argentina´s unpredictable economy, 2013´s prices no longer applied and nor could we get good black market exchange rates. So we didn´t stay in Puerto Madryn for long, deciding instead to head towards Uruguay, though I will fondly remember playing at the kids´ park near the beach one morning.

It made sense to break the journey next at Mar del Plata where we stayed at a bad hostel, saved by its old, disused roof terrace. We walked to the terminal after a day or two through the most perfect neighbourhood I´ve ever seen, almost too perfect - as though all the houses and gardens had been designed and built by the same person. Onto Buenos Aires where we struggled to spend our Argentine pesos (which are worthless outside the country) which we´d withdrawn to pay for the ferry to Uruguay. However, when we got to the ferry port on Argentina´s side, they would only take US dollars. Not thinking we were returning to Argentina, it was a mad rush to spend the excess pesos. This was harder than I thought! (This would turn out to be ridiculous later when we found ourselves back in Argentina; this time, US dollars were not accepted and we were then desperate for pesos).

But no matter, because inbetween lay our time in Uruguay, Matt´s ´land of mystery´, which did not disappoint.

Uruguay is beautiful and extremely green, and we were able to camp the entire coastline if we wanted. The first stop was Piriapolis, where we had the whole campground to ourselves (except for the million or so mosquitos, that is), right near the terminal. It was stormy when we arrived and I pitched the tent whilst Matt ran to get a celebratory bottle of wine before the shop closed. A nice few days.

We decided to miss resort-like Punta del Este and head straight for La Paloma. Campsite to ourselves yet again but this time, beachside. Weird sea potatoes and impeccable guard dog, Frito Lays (the name of South American crisp company), who would bark and growl like a dog possessed at whatever or whoever was apparently near our tent during the night. He did not leave our side.

Next, good old Cabo Polonio, the secluded and rugged hippy beach town accessible by 4WD over the sand dunes and with scarce electricity. Newly-surrounded by other people (many English-speaking), it came as a bit of a surprise, in an incredibly over-crowded, fun, happy house owned by local Louis, and ran by his hippy pals. They took care of us and ran a tight operation, even if the showers smelt of used dishwater and rotten eggs and the tap water was soily. Live music in the conservatory. One evening we went to a pitch black, plant-inhabited bar with a bottle floor and mirror mosaic walls. Confusing at the very least.

We treated ourselves to a private cabana on our last night before making our week-long journey overland to our starting point in Lima, Peru, where we would then continue north to Ecuador and Colombia.