It´s been a while...

Ok, ok I know it has been ages since I last told any of you anything about my travels, for this I am sorry. The only problem I now have is I can´t quite remember what on earth I have been up too in the past couple of weeks, months? Anyways here goes, ready or not here I come...

Bolivia. What a place. I can just see the advert on TV now, flyover of the Salt Flats, followed by a close up of a Llama bleeting, couple of old men with walking sticks and up pops the slogan, neatly placed against the colourful flag...¨Bolivia...the world´s biggest toliet!¨ Now okay, I might be exaggerating slighty but seriously, when you see a grown man, who in my opinion didn´t appear to have any intellectual, physical or mental disabilties pissing in the open daylight on the street you do start to wonder. But on the other hand it is quite a task to go and take a leak in Bo´loo´via. This is the sort of thinking you encounter when realsing that your winkle needs a tinkle.

1. Where is the public toilets.
2. Shit, I don´t speak Spanish, how do I find them
3. Cool, there they are, do I have any money to pay for them (yes, PAY for them)
4. Bugger, I don´t have any change

And it continues until you eventually find a mouldy, crumb ridden boliviano in the bottom of your pocket which nearly passes as currency and gives you access to a hole in the ground, but with very conviently placed footprints on either side so you know where to stand if you are a woman and have to, let´s say squat. By the way, it does´t work the same way for guys. And brings me nicely to may next point, what is it with the Bolivian woman.

I know of course they have the child birth thing, yaddi yadii yarda but I think I have honestly felt myself warming closer to a wet bag on socks. Take this for example. walking through some random town, not quite sure where and I ask a group of local men for a picture, ¨Si, si, no problemo¨ delighted. A matter of days latter I, stupidly, asked the same to a groupd of women. Let´s just say, ever heard of the cash for questions scandal, think cash for pictures. I would like to inform that I resisted tempation to use my wonga to get what I wanted. Maybe I have a future in politics, although lying, taking hard drugs and renting boys isn´t my forte. But anyway I digress. Like I said, World´s biggest toilet. And on to our next adventure...the football match.

After extending my stay by one day I thought I was in the need to see and Argentine football match...brilliant. I thought, catch the United game on tele, walk down the road see River Plate play and get home just in time for Claire before she returns from the zoo, I´m a genius! Well all was going swimmingly, we had heard that it was members only at the River game, something to do with fighting (and not this didn´t put us off) but we were told by a slightly over armed police officer to come back at 2 after the game. After be reassured by a number of fans that we would get it we returned the the ground. To be turned away. Disaster. But wait, we had a plan, this is where the genius really comes into play...we should bribe the police officer with dollars, brilliant.

Okay, this was probably not the most sensible thing to do but it was River, my last day in Buenos Aires and well, it was River! Anyway unsurprisngly our twenty US didn´t exactly encourage BA´s finest to help us although one did try and have a word with a rather scary looking man in a leather jacket. Thankfully, at least I don´t think he was over armed and he let us go with a stern look of dissaproval. Not t be deterred we had one last go trying to jump in at the away end. Now if I was an actor, starring in a movie I imagine I may have got it, and possibly ended up scoring the winning goal but I´m not and wasn´t in a movie, apart the sitcom which is our my travelling life at the moment and so River wasn´t too be. Boo Hoo.

Not to worry though, turned out that the might Racing (bottom of the table) we playing in the wrong side, of the wrong part of town, think Moss Side but with colourful houses. So off we went, in a taxi to again find outselves dumped in the away end. Not quite sure what it is about our British character but the last time I checked my pasty white skin and kind gentlemanly manner (self styled) doesnt exactly scream, hey I really fancy getting involved in a fight right now. Anyways, all turned out well, we got into the game, didn´t have to use our US dollars and managed to piss off our taxi driver on the way home by chanting songs in the back of his cab. Turned out he supported Racing´s biggest rivals. But he duly returned the favour by taking us via the arse end of nowhere so all was even at the end of the day.

And this leads me to now, sitting in Brazil watching in Rain on the beach but hey at least it isn´t snowing!

Stay safe kids,

Tim