As promised, a little summary of the visit of mis padres, my folks. Incident packed, as you'd expect. Dad, aka Big Yun, almost didn't even make it into the country. He foolishly said, quite loudly, that he was 'off the red meat and red wine' this trip, in order to prevent a debilitating bout of gout. As immigration officials descended to oust him from the country (it's the cultural equivalent of arriving in Israel and asking for a bacon sarnie), I hailed a cab to ensure a getaway.
Death by River
We found ourselves entering the city at the same time as the River supporters, as the superclassico Boca - River kickoff had been moved to 2pm to accomodate the Pumas - Scotland rugby, and we had hit hooligan hour. Truckloads of drinking, chanting red and white 'hinchas' sang their way happily towards the stadium. Happily, that is, until our cabbie started 'saluting them' and waving his Boca colours. Like stamping on a bee hive. So we were forced to take more visually appealling route home. Mum, aka Moochie, was watching all of this with a calm detachment, saying it was all 'mighty exciting'. Which it certainly was.
Almost Famous
Next attempt at our own lives: marching into 'Bar Kick Off' as the only Scottish supporters for the Pumas game, Saltires waving and all of that. Using inside sources and no doubt phone tapping, at least three TV channels had heard we were going to be there, so I spent half the match giving interviews for various network. You've probably seen the coverage, in which I was excellent, eloquent and hilarious. Although they edited all of that out, and I ended up looking like a berk, crying into my half pint (camera tricks) at full time. Emmy nomination stuff. But seriously, sometimes you just want a holiday and to get away from it all, you know?
Iguazu
To escape the media attention, we flew to Iguazu, where there was an enormous waterfall. Best told in pictures, and nothing very funny happened. Except that Big Yun experienced his first Argentine steak, then ordered a bottle of wine, and declared that only death would stop him consuming as much of each as he possibly could during the trip. Wise choice.
Then to Mendoza
... to test the theory. Wine tour. Our guide, Javier, what a champion, started with the basics. 'I don't want to patronise you guys, but I'll start from the basics, ok? Right. You have two types of wine: red and white.' Everyone sighed, knowledgably. Which made feel a little silly as I had just drawn a line down my note pad, dividing it into 'red' and 'white' sections.
'So, what colour grapes are they from?' Javier continued.
'What the hell have grapes got to do with anything?' I asked.
A lot, as it turns out.
Big Yun had by now moved from 'not drinking' to 'drinking for three': para explicar, Moochie was off the booze, Katie is pregnant and I wasn't quick enough to 'bagsy' her glass.
Halfway through the detailed explanation of the 'French oak aged, fruitly rich' Malbec we were 'trying', a slurping noise distracted our attention and we all turned to see some kind of red wine dyed bearded philistine smacking his lips and asking for 'un poco mas', with eyes as wide as Hagar.
Three vineyards, much knowledge and mucho vino later we sat down for a four course, eight glass meal in a restaurant with Mendoza vineyards in the foreground and snowy mountains in the background. So the photos proved: I was plastered.
Buenos Aires
Back to BsAs for the long weekend: we took Moochie for a big tour of San Telmo. Big Yun bedridden with gout. Not that's a wine tour. But he was good to go the next day, for more downtown exploring, which is where Moochie found that tree (previous entry), demonstrated in the taxi that her Spanish is better than mine, checked out Recoleta Cemetary (which was 'a bit morbid' apparently), enjoyed the sun, squeezed in a couple more steaks, and then sent them back to Blightly.
Que vacaciones!
(Please note. Legal waver: all comments made regarding the character referred to in the entry as Big Yun are entirely ficticious and any similarities with any relative of mine, or actual persons, are entirely coincidental.)
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