Bars

This evening at the Hostel Inn, I stuffed myself silly on the delicious all-you-can-eat BBQ dinner, I slurped away on the giant bucket of serve-yourself capirinha (after all, this is almost Brazil here), plus I enjoyed the great Tango show that they put on after the meal. Since I booked a tour to the falls for 9am tomorrow, that should have been all I did for the night. But I was silly enough to convince myself that I was being told the truth, when an Irish guy suggested that we go into town for "a few quick drinks". Hah: Irish — drinks — "a few" — "quick" — who was I kidding?! Anyway, I can't say it wasn't fun, staying out at the pubs of Puerto Iguazú until 4am; but as for tomorrow morning — that was Not Very Fun At All™.

My meeting Eric is one of the most random things that's happened to me on this trip. I went into a bar-slash-hamburger place this evening, just to grab a quick choripan (hot dog); and what do you know? I ended up talking to Eric (originally from Lima, now living here in BA), and his alcoholic friend from Mendoza, at the bar. Four hours and about 5 Quilmes beers later, we were still talking. Eric's a computer technician: he wanted me to teach him how to program and to "be a hacker" (what, now? :P), but I suggested that coming back to The Clan for some more beers would be a better idea.

Tonight was Saturday night. I'm in Bariloche. And I've just finished doing seven days of intense snowboarding. I don't know what you would have done like at a time like this — but for me, the appropriate course of action seemed obvious enough. Party! Thus it was that, after dinner tonight, I went with the Patanuk crew down to Wilkenny's, an Irish pub and club in the middle of town, and one of the most popular places to rev up the night in Bariloche. Packed with overpriced imported beer, with all the usual music (well above full volume), and with many a fellow latin-dance-challenged gringo, it made for one hell of a night. ¡Viva Bariloche!

Tonight was one hell of a welcome and an introduction to Quito for me. After a sensational dinner of Thai curry chicken — on the rooftop terrace of the Secret Garden — I went out with some of the staff and fellow guests of the hostel, for a very big night on the town. The Mariscal Sucre area in the new town (otherwise known as "gringoland") is the place to go at night: and this being Friday night, it was absolutely packed with people. Can't remember what time I got home tonight, but it couldn't have been too long before the sun rose. Quite a few drinks, quite a few venues, and quite a lot of dancing. The parties never seem to end, here in Ecuador.

Yesterday morning, my friend Patrick left Baños for the town of Tena, which is about 5 hours east. You can imagine my surprise, therefore, when I walked into a bar in Baños this evening, to find him sitting down and waving at me! "Patrick?" I said, puzzled. "What the hell are you doing here? I thought you went to Tena!" Well, he said that he came back: they're only offering easy rafting trips in Tena (due to the weather, same as here in Baños), and the road from Tena to Quito is currently flooded — meaning that there was nowhere else for him to come, except back here to Baños. Anyway, I think that when I saw him, I looked like I'd just seen a ghost. Big shock!

Do I really need to write this blog post? Considering what it was already like in the afternoon, I think it's pretty obvious what was going down in Baños tonight, and what Patrick and I got up to. Every place in "bar street" was open, and it was open all night long. Local girls. Copious drinking. Vigorous dancing. Pumping music. Get the picture? It was big — biggest night I've had in quite a while. Baños is the place to be, and this was the night to be here.

Baños may be a tiny little town, but it's party time down here, 7 nights a week. And of all the places to party on "bar street" (the street that we're staying in), the Leprechaun Bar has gotta be the most kicking. Patrick and I came here for the first time last night (after our Tungurahua tour), and we scored the customary free shots of Flaming Bob Marleys. Tonight, there were so many hopeless gringos trying to dance salsa, that we ended up virtually having a salsa class right there on the dance floor!

My bus this evening left Chiclayo at 10pm, and pulled in to the sandy shores of the beach resort town of Máncora at about 3am. Seems like this is about the best possible time to get in — it's that kind of a place. The entire town was pumping full-volume with discos, clubs, and bars. Drunk gringos and sleazy locals everywhere. Girls squealing, hips grinding, beers clinking. Pity that I was too buggered from my bus journey to get into it. I checked into a budget dorm at Sol y Mar (yep, front desk open and kicking at this time), downed two shots of vodka, and crashed until the morning.

This is probably news to everyone outside of Latin America, but for the past few weeks, the Copa América soccer tournament has been going on in Caracas, Venezuela. And everywhere that I've been lately — i.e. Bolivia, Chile, and Brazil — it's been the No. 1 thing on everyone's mind, and the one-and-only thing on every television in the continent. Well, this afternoon we finally had the grand final, between Brazil and Argentina: the way it turned out was that Argentina got slaughtered, and Brazil won the game 3-0.

The pampas is a pretty remote place, and as such, it is lacking in some things (e.g. electricity, road vehicle access, piranha-free swimming water). But beer-selling beverage establishments is not one of them. After finishing the trip down the river to our campsite, our guide got us back into the boat, and drove us round the corner to the Sunset Bar. It was pretty bizarre, but we rounded a bend in the river, and suddenly — out here in the absolute middle of nowhere — we saw a sign saying (in English): "Sunset Bar: we serve cold beer — welcome". Maybe Bolivia is a bit like Australia after all, eh? If there's one person living within 100km of anywhere, there's another person next door selling beer.