March 18. Kaiser of Cordoba.

I could work in a fancy café once again. I really have to get used to it. The idea is to write a certain amount of pages per kilometer so I can keep track of where on earth I will be when I finish certain chapters, stories, word-rows. A couple of hours went by with me peacefully striking the keys on my little white computer and producing some word-rows that are not relevant here.

We had icecream. We bought dinner in a supermarket. We had sausages, plenty of rice, and carrots. Our hosts liked it. Kaiser, the nine month brown dog that took the cat’s whole head in his mouth as a sign of affection, got some of the leftovers.

March 18. Kaiser of Cordoba.

I could work in a fancy café once again. I really have to get used to it. The idea is to write a certain amount of pages per kilometer so I can keep track of where on earth I will be when I finish certain chapters, stories, word-rows. A couple of hours went by with me peacefully striking the keys on my little white computer and producing some word-rows that are not relevant here.

We had icecream. We bought dinner in a supermarket. We had sausages, plenty of rice, and carrots. Our hosts liked it. Kaiser, the nine month brown dog that took the cat’s whole head in his mouth as a sign of affection, got some of the leftovers.

March 18. Kaiser of Cordoba.

I could work in a fancy café once again. I really have to get used to it. The idea is to write a certain amount of pages per kilometer so I can keep track of where on earth I will be when I finish certain chapters, stories, word-rows. A couple of hours went by with me peacefully striking the keys on my little white computer and producing some word-rows that are not relevant here.

We had icecream. We bought dinner in a supermarket. We had sausages, plenty of rice, and carrots. Our hosts liked it. Kaiser, the nine month brown dog that took the cat’s whole head in his mouth as a sign of affection, got some of the leftovers.

March 17. Cordoba.

We woke up in Cordoba and started walking around under the hot sun. In this city we had the address of some couchsurfers so we called them we were coming and jumped on a crowded bus. After a twenty minute bus ride we arrived at their place, a small one-floor white casa with a garden around it. Meri and Viktor are so kind.
After arranging some things we went back to the center to enjoy the architecture and the atmosphere of Buenos Aires main rival. The only beggars we saw were sitting in front of the neogothic church. The two-million city was kept really clean; ‘t was a delight to sit down on the grass and share a small bottle of Carcasconne, inexpensive Mendozean wine. A small museum Meri showed us had an agreeable collection of modern Argentinian art on display; I remember a girl carrying a blue hare through a wood.

You’re reading the Original here. The raw version, the unabridged account of a trip that has yet to become bolder, to lift off as it were. You can copy this original; it is not protected. No-one will come and make the claim of intellectual ownership. No-one will sue you when you use these lines to suit any occasion. No-one will ask any questions. But believe me: there is no better way to protect the Original.

March 17. Cordoba.

We woke up in Cordoba and started walking around under the hot sun. In this city we had the address of some couchsurfers so we called them we were coming and jumped on a crowded bus. After a twenty minute bus ride we arrived at their place, a small one-floor white casa with a garden around it. Meri and Viktor are so kind.
After arranging some things we went back to the center to enjoy the architecture and the atmosphere of Buenos Aires main rival. The only beggars we saw were sitting in front of the neogothic church. The two-million city was kept really clean; ‘t was a delight to sit down on the grass and share a small bottle of Carcasconne, inexpensive Mendozean wine. A small museum Meri showed us had an agreeable collection of modern Argentinian art on display; I remember a girl carrying a blue hare through a wood.

You’re reading the Original here. The raw version, the unabridged account of a trip that has yet to become bolder, to lift off as it were. You can copy this original; it is not protected. No-one will come and make the claim of intellectual ownership. No-one will sue you when you use these lines to suit any occasion. No-one will ask any questions. But believe me: there is no better way to protect the Original.

March 17. Cordoba.

We woke up in Cordoba and started walking around under the hot sun. In this city we had the address of some couchsurfers so we called them we were coming and jumped on a crowded bus. After a twenty minute bus ride we arrived at their place, a small one-floor white casa with a garden around it. Meri and Viktor are so kind.
After arranging some things we went back to the center to enjoy the architecture and the atmosphere of Buenos Aires main rival. The only beggars we saw were sitting in front of the neogothic church. The two-million city was kept really clean; ‘t was a delight to sit down on the grass and share a small bottle of Carcasconne, inexpensive Mendozean wine. A small museum Meri showed us had an agreeable collection of modern Argentinian art on display; I remember a girl carrying a blue hare through a wood.

You’re reading the Original here. The raw version, the unabridged account of a trip that has yet to become bolder, to lift off as it were. You can copy this original; it is not protected. No-one will come and make the claim of intellectual ownership. No-one will sue you when you use these lines to suit any occasion. No-one will ask any questions. But believe me: there is no better way to protect the Original.

March 16. Wine tasting.

What would Jack have done? He would have treated Sara and drink a good Cabernet Sauvignon or Malbec with her, he would have lied his hand on her rounder parts and sing a hymn to the moon with her. He wouldn’t that care Sara fell from the sky. He wouldn’t have cared if she grew from the ground either.

In the Mendoza hostel I wrote a few pages. I couldn’t really focus on what I had to say; perhaps I had nothing to say.

After a walk through the large well-kept city park we wanted to taste what Mendoza is famous for: wine. A bodega offered wine tastings for the tourist. The most expensive wine costs 340 pesos for one glass, that is about 100 dollars. For one glass of wine. The ladies smiled accordingly and served some tasty water as we were asked to wait for our turn. We looked at each other and the wine-menu that included a range of exotic upper class wines, and decided to sneak out the rustic patio. Wines of superior quality have every right to exist, just like the fruit flies that drown in it.

That night, we could have done the ultimate Argentinian thing: a cabalgata (horseback riding) during atardecer (sundown) to have an asado (barbecue) upon arrival. We could have trotted dully towards the bright peach sunset, singing gaucho cantos, laughing, make a huge campfire and warm the palms of our hands while the horse hoofs would scratch the barren ground, eat chunks of juicy quadril meat roasted on a slowly revolving pin with fat dripping into the fire that would have evaporated with a hissing sound. Unfortunately it was not available.

We tried to hitchhike to Cordoba instead, but at the access road to the main highway we didn’t have much luck. So we took the bus instead for 100 pesos en effectivo. In Argentina, always ask for en effectivo because it’s ten percent cheaper. It was a cama-bus but the service was way below the semi-cama we had experienced on our way to Bariloche, were the service readily surpassed aircraft standards. The night was no pleasure, but at least she brought us to yet another city.

That night I did not dream about delicious wines flowing from steep mountain slopes (again the slopes) into a lava pool where broadly smiling saleswomen bathed and measured the acidity with the greatest precision then chlorified it and bottled the wine in slender bottles that would start to talk so they had to put the cork on a special kind of phellem they had circumcised in order to close the bottles airtight.