Being this, and a disponsable condition to board.

Whilst in Colonia ferry terminal, awaiting carriage back across the water home, a very strict man announced the following. He announced it every 5 minutes, and we were there for a while, so I wrote it down.

We are home safely now, so it can't have been that important. Still, any suggestions as to what the meaning might have been would be welcome:

"Ladies and Gentlemen. Please be advise-ed that passengers travelling without teeple (?) for safety they must dispatch all baggages at the terminal hall access. Being this, and a disponsable condition to board."

Essential Training

Last night I read several pages of the Al Queda training manual.

It is rather mean about people like me.

Work avoidance

Late night, too much Malbec, too much beef, flat was too hot, too many car alarms, couldn't sleep, up since 5 etc

So day of pottering and work avoidance in order: bless the internet for making that so much easier. Today I have:

Been hooked to cricinfo for most of this avo hoping England can scrap for what is now an unlikely victory in the 4th one dayer. 'Watched' the whole Murray-Bjorkman in US Open on the bbc textupdate site, sent dozens of emails, updated blog, perused facebook, caught up on the world news (China's big, isn't it?) and wrote a poem (it was rubbish, but better than trying to think).

Que bueno!

Colonia del Sacramento

Colonia, just across the river from here into Uruguay, where we were for the weekend. Gorgeous little UNESCO World Heritage town, best described through the photos methinks. (Click photos to enlarge)

Snapshot and sunset

TwentyFourHoursInBuenosAires. This is what's going on:

River have taken only 2 points from 9 at the start of the new championshio, but Boca have started stronger than expected without talismanic genius Riquelme (who they couldn't keep as, like Beckham, he would cost more than the whole squad combined. Unlike Beckham, he's worth it).

It rained for 40 hours Saturday - Sunday, when will the winter end? Didn't spoil our weekend getaway to Colonia del Sacramento, cute little town 50 minutes by ferry across the Rio Plate in Uruguay. Muy lindo. Woke up to Evita on the TV: realise why the Argie's don't really like the way Santa Evita is portrayed in the movie.

An ex-Cabinet minister, Daniel Varizat, was swamped by irate protestors in Rio Gallegos last night. Saying he feared for his life, as his car was surrounded, he hit the gas and ran over 19 people, 3 of whom are now in critical condition. Horrific.

The Kirchners have decided which one of them will run for President: Nestor will stand down, his wife's going to run. No need to re-print the posters or anything, they still just read: KIRCHNER.

Crisis de energia continues: signs are all over the school urging people to join the country and save energy, switch lights off etc. Better than before though (when my remise/taxi could only drive me half way home, and I had to walk the second half in the cold: about an hour.)

On the bright side I have no idea if the UK still has Big Brother.

And I just bought a half-litre tub of ice-cream for £2 (chocolate suizo, vanilla, limon), have a large glass of fine Tempranillo (another £2) in front of me, I'm listening to the uber-camp upbeatiness that is Mika and outside is the most beautiful sunset I have ever seen.

And what is that?

And 'that'? That is my brother, Iain.

What is that?

'That' is my brother, Chris.

The question all teens are asking.

Passing notes is an age old practice, helping thousands of bored, naughty or flirtatious school kids get through the last lesson of the afternoon. History was our lesson of choice. And I remember a friend being caught with a round of consequences by our History teacher, who was the star of that particular round.

'Passing notes, are we? Right, read that out, Gardner', he bellow, face reddening.
'Um. You sure, Sir?'
'Read it!'
'Yes, Sir...' His stammering voice betraying the fact that 'Gardner', usually quick witted, was somehow unable to improvise something else as he stared at the hideousness ahead,
'Er, right. Er. Fat Sack (the teacher's affectionate nickname - we all looked up, so if said teacher didn't already know that was his alterego, he did now) meets Brodie (this the name of his colleagues' labrador). 'He says to it, You look lovely tonight...' and so the teeth were drawn. Passing notes was fun. Being caught red handed? Agony.

Even the Sutton hoodies would rather remove their fake tan than read the intimacies being passed around rhe room. In Sutton all sort of venemous filth could be found on the floor before, during or after lessons. Whilst often indecipherable, txtpsk Souf Landan slang, it usually revolved around who was meeting whom in the park.

u goin up t prk l8r?
yeah, u goin?
yeah
wiv Ryan?
yeah
ee iz buff
yeah

And so on until you died of boredom.

But two such notes have found their way into my possession of late.

The context: two tweenager girls who had obviously being neglecting each other and the 'make up note' culminated in the following line. It also signals the moment where two fine languages die. It read: 't-kro 4eva'

t-kro as in txtspk for 'te quiero' meaning, love you. love you 4-e-va.

I know what you're thinking. There isn't enough vomit in the world.

So I opened the second, today's entry, with a feeling of dread. What hideous teenage subculture would this reveal? I confiscated this as a pesky young sprog was surrepticiously passing it to her evil, evil friend. Ha! I've been on to you, young lady, I thought. Now, what devilish mind is at work here? What is the question these teens are asking?

'Now pass that here, thank you,' I said in my finest smug teacher voice. 'Now what exactly is so important, so pressing that you just had to pass it to you little friend at this exact moment, hmm? Hmm?'

Grabing the note, I read: 'Podemos hacer que el sol de la energia?'

'Does this say what I think it says?' I replied.
'Um. I don't know, Sir.'
'Well, what does it say?'
'Um. I was asking: What can we do with the sun's energy? Sir.'

Damn it, I thought.

That would never have backfired in Sutton.

My typical day 0611 - 0815

0611 (Exactly) Neighbors' car alarm goes off. Four bars of bleeping and it stops.

0630 Alarm goes off. Get up. Curse neighbor for costing me 19 minutes of sleep. (That's 115 mins each week, so roughly 34 hours since I arrived And yet if I were to have him killed, they'd send ME to jail.)

0631 Put on espresso maker. Check weather. The weather is: dark.

0632 Shower, shave, resolve to go to bed earlier tonight. British early as in 10pm, not Argie early as in 2am.

0645 Leave shower. Check coffee isn't burning. Get dressed.

0650 Cereal and morning paper. We get the Buenos Aires Herald, which generously and accurately describes itself as 'the best and only English language paper in BsAs'. Generously because it is appalling written, like reading homework or the news on teletext. Accurately because it is the only English language paper.

0700 Finish coffee, feel artificially awake, grab bag, head off to meet the coletivo, the minibus that drags eleven of the teachers from this area to work.

0710 Coletivo arrives: all the Argentines are sound asleep. Put headphones on to distract conversation, sleep behind my eyes.
Preferably listen to Kermode rant about the world as we know it.

0745 Drive past Cerberus through the gates and into the seventh circle.

0800 Flag ceremony. Where the entire school, 300 or so, turn to pay their respects to the national flag. The prefects raise the flag until it stands against the blue sky. Except that the pulley mechanism doesn't really work, so this increasingly tattered rag of a 'bandera' get dragged up the side of the wall.

On Tuesdays, assemblies. These are marvelous things: more on those later, no doubt.

0815 Tutor time. Don't have a tutor group, so photocopy resources etc ready for the day.

Bell rings.

Dwindling Community

Katie and I agree that one of the best things about living here is that you have a genuine little community. Without trying to sound twee, you have your little bakers, butchers and grocers and you spend ages doing your shopping and it's all lovely and hello and how are you. This community extends far and wide - essentially anyone you've ever bought anything from (flower shop, barbers etc) remembers who you are and says hello.

We had this little community until a couple of weeks ago. Key word is 'had'. It's dwindling, for a number of apparantly unconnected reasons. So this, essentially, is the toll of places we can no longer show our faces. Person responsible in brackets. See if you can work out the pattern:

1. The doctor's. (Katie)
We can't go there anymore (which is a freakin tragedy if only becaue they have a Dr Gambacorta, which translates to Dr Short Prawn). No, we can't, because Katie shut her own head in the door.

She was asked to 'come in' to the room, and then she was asked to 'close the door behind you', which she did, forgetting to remove her own head from the doorway first.

And I refuse to go there through association. What a mong.

2. The panaderia. (Katie)
No real fault of ours, but they think we're Mexican. Katie didn't contradict them at the time, and now it's too late and she discusses how life is different here (than en la ciudad de mejico) and how her breathren are mostly working in the States.

3. Bonafide: The Coffee and Chocolate Shop. (Katie)
This was hilarious. First and last visit. This shop is awesome, like something form a Roald Dahl novel. Katie wanders in, chatting away in Spanish as she comments on the wonderous array of chocolates available. 'Oh, this is wonderful... (Turning towards the woman at the till) How on earth do you work in a place like this without eating everyth...? Ah!'

The woman was a monster. And, staring back at Katie, replied:
'I do.'

Agonising pause.

'That is why I am so fat.' (Pictured above)

So, best shop in Argentina now also off the list, but I reckon it's almost worth it. It's the weekend now, so doubtless I can update you on another one soon.