Pucon and San Martin on either side of the Chile-Argentina border were really much of a muchness. Tourist towns in the off-season, much like Oakune, except I couldn't find the one cheap kebab shop. The settings were both nice, being in the Lakes District meant both of them were on lakes and they were both well endowed in the tree department. We decided to do the oh so touristy 'Canopy Tour' in Pucon after hearing rave reviews but the five or so zip lines (aka flying foxes) crisscrossing the valley that we were herded over were just a touch harrowing for a certain individual of unorthodox dimensions.

The balance on my harness was all wrong and I spent most of my time trying to stay facing roughly the right direction, an important consideration when you have to rely on your own heavily gloved hand pulling on the cable behind the pulley to brake you (but you can't put too much pressure on that or you end up stuck a bit short like my first zip). After one notable failure of my natural sense of direction ended with my foot colliding with the top of a fairly decent sized tree, I got additional strapping applied but while this kept me deadly straight it also meant my head was about 3 inches from the cable and I was quite surprised to find I hadn't ploughed a groove into my hard hat by the time I finished.

Oddly enough it was our clambering about the place which was much more enjoyable, we tramped around a wee lake and up most of a hill in Pucon, and up around a headland looking out over the terribly scenic lake that San Martin is built on. The south of Chile and Argentina both seem to have huge reserves of well-forested park lands and with the tail end of the Andes running through the middle you can imagine that the result is pretty all right.

After our attempt at heading to the local tourist spots we took a fantastif bus up to Buenos Aires. I've briefly mentioned the buses before but Argentina was another step up. The seats were like the old straight first class seats from the airlines, and for the first time in 3 months of bus travel my knees did not rub against the seat in front ever. The meal was two course and had a really decent hunk of meat in it, and there was even some wine.

The meaty good bus meal was the start of things to come, as we arrived in Buenos Aires world capital of meatanarianism and we started on finally enjoying our first good food since Bolivia. The common tourist option was a mixed grill for two that generally arrived on your table on its own small charcoal barbeque. It had too much offal for Jacq but I developed a bit of a taste for the intestines and blood sausage (if not the kidneys). Luckily we both enjoyed the great big bits of beautifully cooked ribeye and rib steak, and chorizo, and not only did we enjoy it but the supply of meat was pervasive our local mall had not one but three seperate asados in between the very quiet burger king and more appreciated cafes and chinese takeaways. I had had some worries about Aregntina as our two years old guidebook warned of a complete lack of vegetables and epidemic levels of smoking, but in the last couple of years the Argentines have joined the rest of the world and smoking is non-existant in restaurants and they understand that vegetables do exist to enhance your meat eating experience.

Bueones Aires is an interesting city just to walk around, and we did a lot of it. We explored all through the central suburbs, through the rebuilt dock lands where we got to poke around a retired naval training frigate (three big masts and big steam engines) that did about 40 enormous training runs aroudn the world, often complete circumnavigations. The ship is littered with photos of cadets at the parthenon and Japanese samurai gear and the like. We also got to walk on a causeway through the waterfront wetland biosphere reserve beyond the old docks. There we sat on the beach made out of bits of demoished buildings and wondered whether anyone would ever swim in the incredibly silty waters of the Rio de Plata which seperates Argentina from Uruguay.

We also visited a very famous cemetary in the posh part of town where all the famous folks are buried in elaborate mausoleums. Made for a very interesting wander while we planned our own burial edifice, and we even found Evita Perons tomb. We visited the colourful suburb of Boca which is famous for its brightly painted corrugated iron houses, and only a bit ruined by the scary tango ladies who try and grab you so they can charge you fior photographs.

We finally managed to send a box full of our souveneirs (and great toasty alpaca jackets) home, so with light packs we moved on to Puerto Iguazu home of the awesome Iguazu falls.