December 14, 2010
Leaving Colonia.
As I sit and write this Sunday evening I know I'll only be here in Colonia a day more. It's time to get a move on. In the morning I will have to bite the bullet and buy a ferry ticket to Buenos Aires. The hostel is, as I've said, so good and the town relaxed and laid-back. I am well located near the old town with grocer, butcher, baker and candlestick, well not quite, though traditional shops beat supermarkets. Tomorrow, my have to do list after buying a ticket is to visit an ATM, create this page and write something for my profile. I don't have a clue what that shall be. In anycase it isn't allot. By the way both Robert and Steffan are off in the morning so I suspect tomorrow evening I'll be shopping, cooking and eating alone.
Next morning, Steffan is off to somewhere on the Atlantic coast. His backpack is as big as himself but he is only young and he'll learn in time that much of what he's carrying isn't all that necessary. On the other hand, Robert's pack is small reflecting his philosophy of owning only what he needs. He's off to Carmelo where he'll catch a ferry at the weekend to Tigre outside Buenos Aires where we plan to meet up again.
I walked the two blocks over to the main through route and the 100m down to the ferry terminal. Thence whether because it was early or what, there weren't mush people in the arrivals-departure hall and so no queues at the ticket sales windows. I bow my head down so my mouths just above the opening on the counter and say in Spanish that I want to sail tomorrow morning to Buenos Aires but the man behind the glass answers in English. And then I speak back in English, but, my English isn't English he's heard before and it all gets a bit confusing him trying to understand my Northern Irish accent. He gives up, so I begin to speak back in slow clear Spanish again and there is no more confusion. He looks at the timetable and says there's a sailing at 10.30 which I take. The price is 600 pesos, or £20. I say I'm taking a bike and he assures me there isn't a problem. I hope he's right.
I come out the sliding glass doors again where there's a nice dog laid-out in the sun. I look down at it a moment in passing and catch it's attention. As I walk on I glance back to see it waddling along behind me. Oh no, it wants to be my friend. I remember my friend warned me about dogs, "Sean, don't pet that dog because he'll follow you and be your friend for life and you'll never get rid of him". I can well imagine the dog running along after my bike every day. Before it got the idea that I was it's new master I give it a severe look. It looks up as if to say, and returns to it's spot outside the terminal door.
I passby a bank on the way back and take 2000 pesos out of the ATM to pay the hostel tomorrow. Back in the hostel, I wrote something in the profile page, so please read it. The rest of the day would be free apart from writing this page now.
There were four touring bikes in the hostel's backyard when I looked this afternoon. I later met the owners, two Irish couples, two men two women, which have cycled from Mexico. Presently, they're sitting at the next table having dinner as I type.(ffwd 12hrs)
This morning, we exchange blog and email. They'll be going to Buenos Aires in another day and perhaps we'll meet up there. Then Rosa, the matronly woman that looks after the hostel, wishes me well as I leave for the ferry.
The ferry isn't the roll-on roll-off type with cars and trucks driving on. It is a high speed craft with only passengers, so boarding is like at an airport. I have to separate the bike from the bags, uncouple the trailer and am given baggage reclaim tickets. I had not thought much about hand baggage, so I was left carrying one pannier which already was close to full of clothes before I packed in on top my computer, camera, diary notebook and book, making the whole bag top-heavy as I walk along in the queue through immigrations. And then I remember, my reading glasses are still in the Bob bag, so there's little point in having my reading book along.
The inside cabin is just like a longhaul airline with window seats and middle seats. On a TV monitor, there's a meddie of eighties music videos, 99 red balloons, Wake me up before you go go, Sledge hammer, and so on. There is the usual mix of passengers, families with kids and teenagers. And there's a safety announcement, then the whole thing shutters and vibrated as we move away from port.
As I write the craft is still vibrating now 15 minutes after leaving port. Uruguay is now a thin line on the horizon behind. Looking out the sides, the brown sea that is the River Plate gently rises and falls. Ahead there is no sign of land but I reckon on seeing Buenos Aires within an hour. Ah, remember Argentina is an hour behind so I'll synchronize my watch now before I forget.
Looking out the front a half hour later, a city of white and gleaming glass towers appear on the brown watery horizon. We'll be arriving sooner than anticipated. Other passengers crowd round the front window to take photos. The battery in my camera has just died. Minutes later, I remember there's a spare in the camera bag, so I put it in and rush up to get some photos just as the tannoy lady announces, for your safety remain in your seat until the craft is stationary, as it is now close and slowing into port.
My bag and trailer was amongst the first bags to come through the curtain on the reclain belt and a little later a bagguage handler wheeled the bike through a door at the side. Out in the arrival-departure hall I was able to change my 1300 Uruguayan pesos for 247 Argentine pesos, about £41.
Leaving the terminal building I pushed the bike a bit until I became orientated, walking over a predestrian crossing until I was on old railway tracks then remembered where I was. I decide to push no more and cycle out in the street while the traffic is waiting at the lights. At the other side of the street I see another cyclist so crossover to his side and follow on. I see he's a cycle-courier. His company's name, Baires Motos tel 4575 7550, was on the red tee-shirt he wore. I followed behind up Avenida Cordoba where we have to stop at the intersection of Florida, the pedestrianized street where the man was green and the people flowed across the street. He was cycling slowly so I pass him then turn left along a narrow street closed to traffic called Suipacha, then right into Av Tucuman and soon I was cruising across the great 18 lane wide Avenue. It's good to be familiar with a city and not have to stop and look at a street map every few blocks. Futhermore, know where there are Hostels. I make to one on the corner of B Mitre and R Pene near Congeso, where I now sit and finish this page.
| Heart | 0 | Comment | 0 | Link |
Today's ride: 5 km (3 miles)
Total: 7,106 km (4,413 miles)
| Rate this entry's writing | Heart | 0 |
| Comment on this entry | Comment | 0 |