Hiya campers,
Yep, that´s right, we have left the Argie´s to it, and the 25 sushi establishments we had the pleasure of experiencing, and are now in Montevideo in Uruguay back on the Steak. Well Iain is, Im on a crash diet of dust, trying desperately to shift the numerous pounds I´ve piled on my arse mainly due to averaging 4 bottles of plonk a day in Argie-land.
Before we continue with the week´s activities, we would just like to send our love and congratulations to Michelle and Casey, who are now the proud parents of Reilly... sure he´ll by running around their back garden in his Arsenal footy kit before we all know it! Also, belated congratulations to Rachel and Lee, who are also now the proud parents of little Louie. No Christenings till we get back please. We have already purchased lama wool jumpsuits for all new arrivals.
Also, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY PARTNER IN CRIME, LOUISE, who is.... I´m not going to publicly announce how old she is because it´s not fair... but, she´s under 40, and pretends she´s 27... and gets away with it! Happy birthday for tommorrow old girl.
So, we left you in the Capital of Argentina, BA, the night before we were whisked off to our polo ranch for 2 days of private polo lessons. We were collected on Tuesday morning by Estani, some polo professional, who thinks he is on a social level simliar to Charles and Camilla, so obviously we felt right at home, and we were, for 2 nights, literally staying in his modest 6 bedroom home.
We dumped our bags and were swiftly piled into the back of his 4x4 and whisked off to his private stables and issued with riding boots and a pony each after spending 5 minutes on a wooden horse trying to swing a polo stick. Piece of cake....
So of course when we are asked our riding capabilities, I brag about the riding lessons I had as a child and Iain admits that he´s only ever sat on a donkey. So I´m issued with a 3 year old feisty polo pony and Iain is introduced to Chocolatey, the resident retired nag. Onto our respective ponies we jump, and into each hand a polo stick is shoved. Iain, who has never been on a horse before, endevours to walk round the polo field happily belting balls with his stick left, right and centre. OK so Chocolatey is retired, but she is moving, slowly, and with the odd kick from Mr T, now and again, for a minute or so, she attempts a slow trot.
I´m also having difficulty getting my pony to move, Im also having difficulty holding onto a pony and a polo stick at the same time, as for hitting the ball, it just wasn't going to happen. I can´t even get my co-ordination right at an aerobics class, there is no way I can control a horse and hit a ball with a stick at the same time, I have trouble just hitting the ball with a stick, minus the pony. Hockey was never my strong point at school, like most things, Iain excelled at Hockey.
So, after several boots in the stomach, my pony isn´t even going to attempt to trot, so Estani gives me a horse crop... bad move, as soon as the pony catches sight of the crop, she panicks and bolts. I´ve been on a horse once in 10 years, yet here I am galloping the lenght of a field towards a fence holding the pony and a crop with one hand, and a polo stick with another, praying to dear god that she doesn´t jump the fence, and I have the will to stay in the saddle. I hear the faint sound of Estani shouting "drop the crop, drop the crop" in the background, I´m quickly approaching the fence, there is no sign of her slowing, so both the crop and the stick are thrown, and as if by magic, as soon as she´s within a foot of the fence, she stops, and I breath a sigh of relief. You had to be there.... imagine Barbara Windsor in carry on riding on an out of control pony heading for a 5 foot fence! Needless to say, when Estani announced that we would be actually attempting to play polo with other polo players that afternoon, I was a little concerned. Iain, at this point, was well on his was to being a fully fledged polo player.
Day 2 and the morning was a wash out, raining heavily so off we trotted to a nearby village to waste away a few hours. The rain cleared and it was back off to the farm for more riding and polo. Estani informs me that today, I will be getting Chocolatey and Iain will be riding Juanita, one of Estani´s best polo ponies. Great, well at least I don´t have to worry about practically breaking my back as Chocolatey won´t move for toffee.
So we start with an hour of hacking round the ranch. Iain on Juanita cantering off into the sun like he´s been riding most of his life, me 2 miles behind on Chocolatey. So, after numerous heavy kicks and still no joy, i´m handed the crop, and we are both issued with our polo sticks. I tap the pony with the crop, and you are not going to believe what happens next... yes that´s right, Iain is still securing the polo stick round his wrist whilst I am half a mile down the other end of the pitch after Chocolatey, the pony I´m assured won´t move for money, has bolted and cantered off. She then refuses to let me attempt to play polo on her and every time my polo stick is handed back to me, she bolts again. I take her back to the stables and decide to spectate. My love of horses is no longer, meanwhile Iain-move-over-wills-and-harry-Thomas, is cantering round the pitch with Estani succesfully belting the ball and considering changing his name by de-pole to Rupert or Tarquin! Night ends round the dinner table with Estani and his pregnant wife and me drowning my sorrows in 2 bottles of champers. I am putting my lack of horse riding capabilities on this occasion down to overdosing on antihystermines.
So, Thursday and it´s back to BA to prepare ourselves for friday´s tango show, which was excellent. I got to practice my previously learnt skills with one of the show´s leading men whilst Iain was pestered by some Dot Cotton lookalike, who wanted to dance with him, he was having none of it. I also managed to wow the waiter with my ever increasing knowledge of the Spanish language.... much to Iain´s amusement, when deciding we would treat ourselves to a little glass of bubbly each, I asked the waiter for 2 glasses of mushrooms! "that would be Champagne, not Champignons Lynz!"
Sunday I was treated to an afternoon watching Bocca Juniors v Velez. "Wow what a treat, cosmic, can´t think of anything else I´d rather be doing on a Sunday afternoon when I have a raging hangover" were my thoughts, especially after Id spent last Sunday freezing my arse off watching Riverplate. But, now, I´m going to do my best here, my football knowledge is limited, and my sports commentation probably equates to my polo skills but I´m gunna give it a go.... The stadium was gritty and rammed, nothing like the half empty Wembley-esqe commercialised football museum that was Riverplate. No seats, just terraces, and big fat dirty Argentinian Boca supporters shouting and swearing with their tops off, waving them in the air. Excellent. Velez were playing like superstars, Boca were, well, shite, and their seriously dirty tackles got one of Boca´s men sent off just before half time. So the half time whistle is blown, velez are winning 2-0 and Boca are a man down and have had probably 5 attempts at scoring, one hitting the cross bar. it´s not looking good. But, out of no-where, Boca manage to score a goal in the 2nd half, the crowd go wild. It´s 85 minutes into the game and Boca manage to score their equaliser, winning would be a miracle with only three minutes left. Still, the crowd go wild at the thought of a draw. Then, 2 minutes into extra time, Boca score their amazing winning goal and the stadium literally starts rocking, even I jump from my seat shoting "we love you freddy..." (only football related chant I now and the Argi´s don´t have a clue what I´m singing...). It really was a nail biting game, if English football was as exciting and gritty I´d be off home right now to purchase a Bradford City season ticket! Great game.
So, Monday morning we wake up and decide to kill 2 hours before our Boat leaves for Montevideo. Erh, well, we didn´t actually make the boat on Monday, instead we made about 20 purchases which consisted of 4 handbags, 3 pairs of boot and several belts and a jumper for me, and 2 pairs of shoes and trainers for Iain. The leather is so cheap out here, it would have been seriously rude not to take part in a little shopping activity. And to celebrate our very successful shopping trip, we end our last night in Argentina with 3 bottles of plonk. We managed to catch the boat on Tuesday after hot footing it quicky past anything that sold any form of handbag or boot, I was on a serious roll, I had to be dragged kicking and screaming to the port.
So, he we are in Montevideo, Uruguay, and today it was 32 degrees. And for all those of you who are dying to know our final Argetinian wine count, we have managed to sink 34 bottles of wine and 8 bottles of champagne in 4 weeks. Iain is contacting the Guiness book of Records as I type. As for all those of you who are concerned about our livers, we are now on an alcohol free diet until at least...... the weekend.
Well it's now 1.10am, and I´m off to bed.
Till the next one.
Love to you all
Lyndz & Iain
PS: enjoy the photos relating to all the above.
xxx
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