Why you should not pick your drink based on your drinking partner's name
Another in the growing list of lazy days. Spent some of the time watching TV down in the common area (as a result of which, I can now add "XXX", that Vin Diesel masterpiece, to my list of "Really Really Silly Films"), went on the net for a bit, partly to Skype home and say Happy Birthday to my little brother Alex, and then went for a late lunch at a little place just across from the hostel with Pete and Lev. The latter had to get his stuff in order for his bus that evening, so Pete and I then headed off across town to the gigantic Parque San Martin, where we wandered for a bit before realising it was so big we actually needed some kind of a map. We were hoping to get to Cerro Gloria, where there's apparently a monument to the troops of the Army of the Andes who crossed over to fight the Spanish in the wars of independence, but by the time I swallowed my pride and let Pete ask for directions, it was getting late and we were advised by the locals not to go up there.
On the way back across town, we went down Avenida Villanueva, where many of the bar/restaurants are, getting an idea of the feel of the place, as we were thinking of heading out the following night. We then swung by one of the ubiquitous Carrefour supermarkets (the first time I saw one of them in South America was weird, like when I saw Tesco's in Thailand) to get some supplies for lunch for the wine tour we were planning the next day and for having a few drinks at the hostel that evening. The initial plan was to get some cachaca and make caipirinhas, but we couldn't find either limes or bagged crushed ice, which rendered this rather less of a good idea, so just settled on getting some vodka. Pete was somewhere between elated and horrified that you can get a litre of vodka for less than 2 quid in the supermarket here, and in the end we decided that it was fated to be when we found one of the brands of vodka was called "Peters".
Back at the hostel, after we'd got cleaned up, we started on the vodka, initially with some of the "Paso de los Toros" grapefruit drink I'd gotten somewhat hooked on, and then with apple juice (Pete's favourite way of consuming it, and one I'd gotten to like whilst in Krakow). Alcohol being the social lubricant it is, we started chatting rather more with our fellow hostellers, including Australians, Swedes, Norwegians, Dutch and French, before eventually getting chatting to three Argentine girls. You could tell we were a little drunk by this point, as Pete scarcely spoke a word of the language, and my Spanish is rudimentary, and at least initially it appeared none of them spoke English. We managed to gather that they were two sisters, Noelline and Evangelina, the former studying in Mendoza, and Noelle, a colleague of the latter, before it turned out that Noelle spoke pretty good English, so I was spared some of the ongoing challenge of translating for Pete whilst he tried to chat up Evangelina. I've been a translator for people a few times before, and a wingman when out with other lads on the town, but not normally both at once!
After realising that we'd finished off the vodka, the girls suggested going to a bar they had had recommended, which was called something like "Iris". We obviously thought this was a fantastic idea, and wandered off across town, following the directions they'd been given. Amusingly it turned out that the bar wasn't Iris, it was Irish - they'd brought us to Believe, the local "Irish pub"! There we settled in for a little while, but tiredness, budget, the need to be up and about in the morning, and the fact that Pete was visibly rather drunk at this point (I might well have been as well, but I couldn't see me...!) conspired to send us home relatively early (i.e. only about 3am or so...)
On the way back across town, we went down Avenida Villanueva, where many of the bar/restaurants are, getting an idea of the feel of the place, as we were thinking of heading out the following night. We then swung by one of the ubiquitous Carrefour supermarkets (the first time I saw one of them in South America was weird, like when I saw Tesco's in Thailand) to get some supplies for lunch for the wine tour we were planning the next day and for having a few drinks at the hostel that evening. The initial plan was to get some cachaca and make caipirinhas, but we couldn't find either limes or bagged crushed ice, which rendered this rather less of a good idea, so just settled on getting some vodka. Pete was somewhere between elated and horrified that you can get a litre of vodka for less than 2 quid in the supermarket here, and in the end we decided that it was fated to be when we found one of the brands of vodka was called "Peters".
Back at the hostel, after we'd got cleaned up, we started on the vodka, initially with some of the "Paso de los Toros" grapefruit drink I'd gotten somewhat hooked on, and then with apple juice (Pete's favourite way of consuming it, and one I'd gotten to like whilst in Krakow). Alcohol being the social lubricant it is, we started chatting rather more with our fellow hostellers, including Australians, Swedes, Norwegians, Dutch and French, before eventually getting chatting to three Argentine girls. You could tell we were a little drunk by this point, as Pete scarcely spoke a word of the language, and my Spanish is rudimentary, and at least initially it appeared none of them spoke English. We managed to gather that they were two sisters, Noelline and Evangelina, the former studying in Mendoza, and Noelle, a colleague of the latter, before it turned out that Noelle spoke pretty good English, so I was spared some of the ongoing challenge of translating for Pete whilst he tried to chat up Evangelina. I've been a translator for people a few times before, and a wingman when out with other lads on the town, but not normally both at once!
After realising that we'd finished off the vodka, the girls suggested going to a bar they had had recommended, which was called something like "Iris". We obviously thought this was a fantastic idea, and wandered off across town, following the directions they'd been given. Amusingly it turned out that the bar wasn't Iris, it was Irish - they'd brought us to Believe, the local "Irish pub"! There we settled in for a little while, but tiredness, budget, the need to be up and about in the morning, and the fact that Pete was visibly rather drunk at this point (I might well have been as well, but I couldn't see me...!) conspired to send us home relatively early (i.e. only about 3am or so...)
posted by Pat at 12:00 pm
<< Home