*PICS ADDED* Rain stopped play...and some sad news.

We didn´t go to Polo. Rain stopped play. Maybe tomorrow.

Ended up going down to the coast and having a massive feed in a restaurant looking out over the river, having met with the new voluntarias (3 girls, Kristen from Florida, and two Irish girls, Finula and...ummm, I forgot). 35 Pesos each, under 6 quid each for yummy meal, wine, dessert.

Strolling it off, we stopped to gaze at Paraguay on the other side. We´ve been told by pretty much everyone who lives here that Paraguay is dull dull dull, but we fancy going over just to get the stamp in my passport. It´s just over a bridge, a day trip.

I took a pic on x12 zoom, and when I zoomed in again I could virtually look into someone´s house! That´s one *fine* camera, the Canon Ixus.


This is Paraguay from the Argentinian coast. Looks appealing, no?

Everyone says just go to this market on the Posadas coast, derogatorily called ´Paraguay in a Box´, where apparently you can find anything worth seeing without crossing the border. We went: a load of maté cups, bad underwear, worse shoes and all sorts of tat you would never want. Might give Paraguay a miss after all.
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Oh. And I´m afraid to say, Winnie died in the night. Kirsten was upset, but relieved the little one wasn´t suffering any more. Apparently it´s really hard to rear them in captivity and this is the 4th one they´ve had die on them. RIP Pooh bear :(




R.I.P. Winnie the Bear. May-June 2008.

*PICS ADDED* The rain is back, and my visit to El Refugio...

Realised I´d said nothing about work this week...it´s not been all play play play (honest!), but we have settled into a nice little routine and school, as Irish Ali would say, is "grand".

Tuesday was torrential rain: I allowed myself the luxury of a cab into work, which cost me just over a quid. We were shocked to find out the rain meant that 5a had all of 4 students (out of 25!), 6b fairing only slightly better with 10/22 kids. There seemed little point starting the new subjects I´d prepared, so we 3 teachers revised all the vocab learnt with team games of hangman and my now-famous Rolf-Harris-style game. The teachers here were quite unphased, the kids don´t come to school if the weather is bad.

C said it´s a policy he´d love to introduce to the workplace in England, but I pointed out we´d never get into work.

On Wednesday, 5b wrote a HUGE sign on the board:



The incorrect spelling made it all the more adorable. It could´ve been for any of us, but as the chicas dragged *me* over to it and hadn´t put an "S" on the end, I think it was for *me*, and me alone, of course.

Thursday, the (grown up) boys were all broken, after our Wednesday night at Sampaka (a jovial evening, with me & C, Ali, John, Tom, V and Marcello), the guys headed out for more at 12.30 (The chicas opted to go to bed earlier, much to John´s undisguised delight at the chance of a boy´s evening out).

I laughed at C for thinking he could keep up with the young uns, as the alarm bleeped pain and regret into his head with every push of the ´snooze´ button.

Running late myself, I power-walked in to find (at 8.55) no Ali or John. Fabiana informed me "no classe hoy". Eh?! So Ali & John were having a big old lie in?!??! I sighed heavily, and grumbled/mumbled in English under my breath, although my body language told her, "Someone could have effin´ told me".

Just then, they arrived. Ah. No one had told them either.

A hungover John struggled to comprehend that we really did have no classes today (we´re still not sure why, quite often they´ll just chop and change our schedule for no reason), Fabiana laughed she could smell whiskey on his breath (he was mortified) and we all repeatedly told him that we were free to go (I was virtually pushing him out the door lest F change her mind).

Ali & I laughed as a group of about 20 pubescent schoolgirls had watched us say goodbye to John at the gates as then they proceeded to follow him and run back nervously giggling and daring their mates to get closer. John, heading off home to get some kip, was oblivious to his growing, hormonal, fanbase.

We girls headed into town, glad of the chance to hit the one coffee bar and shops before siesta (everything shuts as we finish work at 12...even, inexplicably, the cafés and sandwich shops...still not worked out what people do for lunch!).

And on the hottest day this week, I managed to get a coat, 23 quid, with a comedically big furry hood.
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Friday: Raining again. Another day off work as they were fumigating the place to get rid of the mice in preparation for Monday´s 75th birthday party celebrations at the school (weirdly from 8 - 10.30 am, and no lessons again!)

We (John, Ali, Tom & I) had agreed to all go to help C on his last day at the Refugio. I was feeling a bit nervous, after all I´d heard from C. And he was bringing cake and pop for a girl´s birthday and presents for them all.

Feral kids, sugar and E-numbers!??!?! Help.

In the end, I thought the Refugio was nowhere *near* as bad as he´d painted it, although it was nowhere any kid should have to live.

I´m wondering if C´s a bit of a drama queen, or as he said, the kids (and the acrid smell of urine) were a lot more subdued today because of the rain.

Anyway, they were incredibly excited that C had brought his "nobia" (me) to the refugio. I was greeted shyly by some of the girls, hugged by a few and asked questions. Touchingly, they called me "Tia" immediately (C is "Tio" - uncle) and kept coming up for hugs and kisses.

One of the special-needs kids, Danny ran towards me, eyes shut (C thinks he´s partially blind), mouth open and silent, and enveloped me in a huge hug. He can´t speak, he´s 9, still in nappies, and malnutritioned, is the height of a 6 year old. I hugged him back, warmly and said "Hola Danny!". I felt I knew them and their names better than my own school kids from C´s numerous photos.

Walter, his younger brother, (also special needs, C says they really shouldn´t be there) with a face full of red scabs and sores (he scratches himself in his sleep) then came to hug me and grabbed me by the hands, with wet slobbery fingers to excitedly show me round his 4 room home (for 30-40 kids, 2 bedrooms, some sleep in the area they also eat in).

He excitedly pointed at the telly in the main indoor room (he can´t speak. He´s 7, looks 4), pulled me to the kitchen, asked the older girls for water by pointing, sweetly offered me his cup (I pretended to take a sip and said a big "Mmmmm! Gracias, Walter!"), and then dragged me to show off their tiny shared bedroom quarters.

I did not take photos of their rooms, sorry. I somehow think that sort of thing is disrespectful and a bit touristy to be honest. The other day, I´d had a go at C, after he informed me of yet more pictures of Walter´s face, supposedly to ´prepare´ me for my visit. I said that I didn´t need to be made any more apprehensive about my visit, thank you, and that Walter was a child, not a freakshow.

But believe me that the place was just above squalid. Filthy bedding, graffitied walls, not enough chairs (some were forced to eat standing up), no toys to speak of. I didn´t spot any staff, nor any security: it appeared the older girls looked after the other kids, and the front door was open, so the kids appear to come and go as they please.


C´s favourite boy, Augustin, with C´s cap on. Looks like a tiny Tiger Woods. Smiles all the time although he has nothing and no-one. A humbling lesson for us all there.

My favourite girl, Chou Chou. Kept hugging me and calling me Tia. Said she loved me after a few mins. It´s all they want, to be loved back.

Shortly after they´ve had the presents, a bit of a group shot with C in the middle and Ali (at the back, peeking over the top of the kids!).

John watching the kids drawing with the paper and felt tips we brought that day. They have no toys at all unless volunteers bring them in and they never last long.

We managed to give them a lovely morning, anyway. C had brought cakes, muffins, fizzy pop and presents (friendship bracelets for the older kids, stickers for the younger ones whose wrists would have been too small) and we created something of an atmosphere, party-cum-riot with these small pleasures.

C had the great idea to get me drawing animals, so like a kid´s entertainer, I soon had a crowd of children from 3-15 queuing up to have their favourite animals drawn, to which I added "Para (and their name), Besos! Sapna x".

My heart broke a little bit as I said goodbye (but I promised to come back Monday). They are such lovely, sweet kids, and I left feeling a bit guilty that I´d changed my project, but there are two good reasons, I justified: 1) I´m making good progress at my school 2) I would end up falling in love with Augustin (Cs´ favourite, a gorgeous 3 year old Tiger Woods lookalike) or, my favourite cutie, nicknamed "Chou Chou", a little girl about 3, who kept wanting to be picked up and said "Te ama" more than once.

I knew I´d have ended up, after a month, wanting to adopt one of them.
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This evening we visited Ali in her new pad. She´s moved in with Kirsten cos her other flatshare wasn´t working out and is much happier already. There was a sadness though, as K was red-nosed from crying: we think Winnie the honey bear is dying.

She´d not been eating and in the space of 3 hours, whilst K had been out, lapsed into a deep, floppy sleep, from which she couldn´t be woken.

I turned up armed with wine, which we demolished whilst we tried to take K´s mind off it, between calls to and from the vet with updates.

The prognosis doesn´t look good, I´m afraid. :(

Everyone has gone out to meet the new voluntarios tonight (not Tom & John though, they´ve gone away to Iguazu Falls, it´s Tom´s last weekend, and Iguazu is the local "must see").

I´m staying in. I´m feeling strangely down, what with the bear news and the realisation this morning that my two workmates, now friends, are going to be gone in 2 weeks (work has whizzed with them to share it with) and I will be back at work struggling on my own again before I know it.

Anyway, Polo tomorrow. Laters amigos.

Rain, rain go away...and soapy suds a-plenty

I did *not* sign up for this horrid weather and *still* can´t find a coat I like. :(

On the plus side, C & I went to Tango again last night, and now know 5 different moves, which we can put together in a passable, if slow, routine. C´s even managing to steer me effortlessly round others, rather than crashing into them as we were last week. Sometimes.

There was a very suave young guy there last night, all chiselled cheekbones and dark curly hair, who checked me out when he walked in. Fancy footwork, I couldn´t help but stare a little bit. Exactly the sort of guy C was scared might sweep me away! I said, cheekily, that I reckoned he could teach me a thing or two (about Tango...natch) and C held me just that bit closer. Sweet.

C called him a ´Tango slut´ as he danced with about 5-6 different ladies that evening, but as I´ve said, there´s a shortage of males, so I reckoned he was just spreading the love. Most were old enough to be his mum!

A basic white room, with a mirror along one wall and an antiquated computer (Windows 95) playing the tunes, "Dancing with the Stars", it aint.

Not least the Argentinian TV version which we have watched slack-jawed on TV (me in incredulity, C with a little bit of drool) as the chicas are wearing virtually next to nothing, two tiny triangles over their enormous blow-up breasts and a postage-stamp for a thong, displaying their Argentinian Brazilians to all and sundry.

The host even lay on the floor looking "up" as one did some high kicks and he later actually cut her ´knickers´ off with a pair of scissors (there was a tinier pair beneath...). With the cameras spanning tight mid-riffs and lingering over boobs and butts, they manage to make old Benny Hill shows from the 70s look P.C. My dad (and most blokes, I reckon) would love it.

Argentinian women on the telly seem to have a lot of plastic surgery...a couple of the celebrity dancers with better figures than most 20 year olds, I was told, were 55 and 47...it was seriously only when the camera came closer that you could see the slightly crepey neck and hands...If you ever want a slight nip-tuck, this is the place...
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I went to buy some shower gel after Tango (the shops stay open till 10) and, as in the UK, I refused a plastic bag for one item.

A 10 minute walk home and I found the lid had come off and my i-pod, digital camera, pens, make-up bag, mobile, Spanish phrase book, notebook and gloves were literally *swimming* in the slimey, sticky goo.

C & I spent an hour cleaning up. Miraculously, with my ipod/camera being in cases and my USB stick with all my pics on and Tom´s ipod (which Kirsten had charged up and given me to return via John not 3 hours earlier...) in side pockets, everything was unharmed.

However, I´ve learnt my lesson; no more saving air miles or money by buying local (crappy packaging) - I´m back to buying imported brands again (Dove, Pantene, Johnson´s) and I´m DOUBLE-BAGGING.

On the plus side, all my stuff smells lovely.
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We needed a drink after that, so C suggested a local haunt I´d been wanting to go to since we got here, Cafe Sampaka (I pass it daily, on my walk to work).

We went out at 11.30 (I´m getting into Argie timing with my siestas), but the only people in there were a good-looking man and an older feller playing cards. The younger leapt up to serve us. We were actually the only clientele in there!

Normally, this would put me off, but turns out it´s the coolest bar ever, run by this guy, Mario and his brother in law, Carlos (who was behind the bar, sorting the tunes).

The music was great; a remix CD of a world-famous Argentinian DJ called Herman Castaña (?) - C has some of his CDs on Global Underground - and they got chatting. They burned C a CD, which he was v chuffed about.

A lot of bars in Argentina don´t sell wine by the glass so you *have* to get a bottle (nightmare, eh?!), but seeing as C was on beer, I was left with a dilemma. In the end I ordered the bottle (um, what did you *think* I was going to do?!) and managed to get them to agree to keep it behind the bar for me for next time.

Mario even rang his wife, Laura who teaches English to come down with their baby (at about 12.30!) and she brought down a tired but incredibly cute and smiley little girl, 8 months, who her uncle Carlos (Laura´s bro) held on a bar stool, her dummy in his mouth, so she could ´dance´ with her hands in the air. (Aren´t ravers getting younger these days?!)

I didn´t have my camera (it was drying out) so I´ll get pics another time.

We left at 2am - so much for one drink.

Sampaka´s only been open a month (same time we´ve been here) which is why they don´t have much custom yet.

Their music´s much better than Power though (which is full of 18 year olds and you can´t hear yourself speak...sorry I just turned 85 for a bit there) and the service is fantastico.

To give business a boost and start spreading the word (you can take the girl out of advertising...) I´ve invited all the volunteers tonight and Veronica and her hubby Marcello to join us after dinner. As V is the In-country Co-ordinator for i-to-i, I´m going to ask her to start promoting it to all her voluntarios (and her own mates too)
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And it´s turning warmer again...yay!

Two bits of news I forgot, and an update

1) The mystery of the missing bra ends. Well, it´s re-appeared *by magic* in my drawer, freshly washed. Nothing was said, so I´ll say nothing. Very strange though. Just as well, cos the figleaves one my mum posted (along with my cash card) hasn´t got here, 10 days after posting...

2) Graciela, the head, has got Veronica to agree to me doing 4 more weeks at the school - YAY! So no horrific Refugio. They´ve got three other volunteers starting there next week anyway so I won´t be missed, and this 4 weeks will take me nicely to my school´s winter break. I think most voluntarios (like John & Ali) do max 4 weeks, so to have this continuity will be massively beneficial for the kids. A lot of work alone though, so I´m not looking forward to my last 2 weeks already!

UPDATE: Saturday night: We met in a bar with Tom, John, Ali, Kirsten (she´d fed the bear and put her to bed), Catherine, her boyfriend Scott and some random ginger guy, from Geneva called Timothy (Tom & John had met him earlier that day when they went to the Jesuit Ruins...those old rocks I told you about). He looked like he had a comedy ginger Scouse wig & tache, but he was a really nice guy.

Tom amused me by admitting that when he hung out with John the girls came flocking and he was quite happy to take John´s cast-offs!!!

The bar was fun, then we went onto Power.

Seriously, why do we bother? Power was shite the first time we went, and then just as bad on the Saturday. We managed to stay till about 5am (we only got there 2.30am) and headed home.

I think John enjoyed it as he went off sharking immediately (joined by Tom, but eventually Tom returned to us in the Electronica room, his less-proficient Spanish, and thick N.Ireland accent, making communication with the chicas almost impossible on a noisy crowded dancefloor), but for anyone who just wanted to dance, the music was shockingly bad, even in the Electronica room.

I knew we were in trouble when the best tune was ´Rhythm is a Dancer´ played twice within an hour. In between the tuneless bleeps and tragic mixing (the overhead said he was from Pacha...if that DJ has even been in as a punter, I´ll eat my Tango heels) he managed to tease us with a bit of Faithless ´Insomnia´, which he just as quickly took off as soon as we looked like we were enjoying ourselves.

Seemingly oblivious to the reaction of the 8 people on the tiny dancefloor (most of which were us), they switched back to tuneless bleeps, like teenage boys experimenting with their first Bontempi organ. As the worse type of men do, they seemed to be playing for only their own pleasure.

C & I left, vowing to not bother again.
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Sunday: I was in a bit of a huff with Aida today as she had told me off for speaking 6 words of English yesterday. (It´s exhausting speaking Spanish all the time and I wasn´t even speaking to her!)

She does this all the time, even if I´m speaking privately to C, which is annoying enough but bearable, but what *really* hacked me off though was that she said I *never* bothered speaking Spanish and that only C made the effort, which is a blatant lie, in fact my Spanish is better than his, and Mariana and C said as much to her - in Spanish - in my defence. I was furious though. I wanted to say "I´ve quit my job to come here, I´m learning your language, you´ve had loads of volunteers and have not bothered to learn any English, I am doing *voluntary work* here, we are paying to stay at yours, I´m tired, exhausted, Mariana speaks English and it was just a couple of mugs I needed, so JUST SHUT UP and LEAVE ME ALONE!!!´ but I seethed, silently instead. We´re here for another 5 weeks, no point rocking the boat.

So I stayed in bed for as long as I could, reading my novel, sleeping, and C brought me up a hot chocolate (sorry, "chocolate caliente") for sustenance.

Eventually, at 5.30, hunger got the better of me so I had to come downstairs. I managed to not say very much though, even at dinner, feigning tiredness.

C wasn´t very sympathetic when I had a rant to him about it later that evening, till I reminded him how supportive I´d been when Aida had told me yesterday to tell him to stop creating so much washing. (Ummm, how?! The refugio and kids are filthy so he *has* to change when he gets in. He also doesn´t want to wear his nice clothes to work, so he´s in effect getting through 2 sets a day). We´re going to find a laundrette, and then he won´t have to ration his pants and socks, or just keep buying more and more when he runs out (we have the EU sock mountain going on here).

A late (at night) posting, it´s 1.51 now, but I couldn´t get on till late tonight, Flor had more college work to do, and I needed to lesson prep: 1) los partes del cuerpo (parts of the body) and 2) physical descriptions.

We didn´t go to Tango tonight: John called off, which I was cool about; it´s CHUCKING it down right now, as it has been since about 3pm today (again, miraculously it stopped for 15 mins, just enough time for me to get home from Ali´s where we had lunch, and decadently polished off a daytime bottle of wine, despite promises to only have one glass each), and I just feel like getting under the blankets in this horrible cold weather :(

Getting ourselves a social life...and C´s in hospital again.

Sorry, mis amigos for the infrequent posting...this last week has been MANIC.

Monday evening, bought more stuff for my kids and for the refugio. C´s getting pissed off that whatever he brings in soon gets stolen, lost, kicked over the wall or trashed. He rejected a ball I suggested for a much cheaper-quality one and still annoyed, said, "frankly, it´s all they deserve". I gently suggested that maybe they don´t respect or care for things as they don´t get any respect or care either. He conceded I had a point.

We bumped into Kirsten, Ali and John outside a bar; they´d texted me earlier but I hadn´t checked my phone, so a lucky spot. We joined them for a quick drink (well, quick once I manged to get the inattentive waiter over) before heading back for dinner - Aida cooks each night, so it´s a bit of a bind for not being able to spontaneously stay out, but I´m getting nicer, healthier food than I would be able to get in a restaurant anyway. And we´ve paid for it in our accomodation costs, so it´s in effect now ´free´.

We told Aida over dinner, how much we liked her cooking. That the other volunteers haven´t been so lucky; poor Catherine got served FOUR meat empanadas for her dinner last night (like Cornish pasties!) and nothing else. Kirsten gets given a range of sweet biscuits and some ´random weird mini breadsticks´ every morning (she thought her breakfast was so strange, she took several photos of it). Yum.
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Tuesday...fairly non-eventful as I remember (I´d like to blog more frequently, but Flor has theses to do, so I can hardly hog it for my own more leisurely pursuits...)

Oh yeah, John told me C was playing footy with some of the boys on Wednesday. I was surprised because C hadn´t mentioned it, although I said he´d be well up for it.
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Wednesday - C hadn´t mentioned it because no one had told him about the footy, but as I guessed, he was enthusiastic.

Today, the heavens opened pretty much all day and what must be all the rain in the world washed the streets with rivers of red from the coloured earth. Amazingly, I managed to catch 20 minutes on my walk into work when it stopped for a bit, and on the way back a nice lady offered John and I a lift most of the way home when we were huddled in a shelter waiting for a bus or the rain to stop, whichever came first, so I managed to *not* get drenched, unlike C.

That evening I texted to rally the chicas to come and watch the boys (thankfully it was a covered pitch), but Ali was heading to bed, and Kirsten had the best excuse EVER. She sent a fantastic text, which I just have to transcribe for you:

"Hi! Thanks to my rubbish spanish i´ve landed myself the job of 24 hour care of a week old honey bear! i should stop just nodding and saying ´si´ when I don´t understand something."

I replied saying it sounded so-o-o cute, but did 24 hours mean she was living on her project now?

"No i had to bring it home with me! it is so cute you guys have to see it....I have to feed it every 4 hours so staying in tonight. Will call...to arrange a show & tell!"

A honey bear!!! A week old!!! C and I did a little dance in excitement. We were already a bit ga-ga over some gorgeous little pups we´d seen. The nice pet-shop owner let me cuddle a very young black and white mongrel puppy (maybe 4 weeks old?), and he rested his tiny head and little paw on my chest, and nearly went to sleep, calmed by the beating of my heart. C wanted to take a pic, but I didn´t want to scare him, so sorry everyone, no puppy. I had to eventually hand him back, before I fell in love and wanted to buy him.

Hmmm. With images of a real-life baby ´Pooh´ bear in my head, I did a Google Image search and was disappointed to realise a honey bear looks more like an anteater :(

Anyway, so it was just me, una sola chica, that went to the footy with los chicos. I took the flash off my camera so as not to cause a distraction, to try and capture some of the moves. I´ll post pics later...

5-a-side turned out to be C, John, Tom, Marcello (V´s hubby) and one of his teenage sons opposite a group of 15-17 yr old Argentinian lads (!!!) who, C later said, had amazing skills, better than he ever had even in his competitive days. C was still pretty tasty on the pitch though, fancy footwork, nimble and *fast*. I was quite proud that the old man (he´s 35!) still had it in him and was easily better than most of his team mates.

That is until he injured himself in the last ten minutes and had to hobble off the pitch.

He took off his trainer (Squeamish?! Eating?! Skip this paragraph) and the whole nail had turned black as the blood was building up under his big, now throbbing, toe. Ouch.

The game had been a lot more exciting than the Guarani match we´d gone to, and although no one actually seemed to know the score, apparently we won by 1 goal. Bet the other side said the same.

After the boys went home for showers, we later met John & Tom at Cristobal (that restaurant I first had fish in) for a few beers. Getting there was a joke.

I´d asked the taxi driver to take us to ´Cristobal, por favor´ and he looked at me blankly. I repeated the name, clearly. Still a look of ´Que?´.

Oh come *on*, I thought, he´s probably lived here all his life, Posadas is hardly happening, and I can´t imagine he´s never dropped off or picked up at one of the most popular joints in town. I guessed he was pretending not to understand so he could take us tourists a merry route. Exasperated, I pulled a map out and we pointed "Aqui!". The taxi driver shrugged and set off. As soon as we saw the huge sign for the bar, we pointed it out "Aqui! Aqui! Cristobal!". He pulled up and feigned sudden comprehension, "Aaaaah! CrisTObal!".

I couldn´t resist a bit of sarcasm. I always think if you can have a joke and be sarcastic in a language you are getting more fluent, so I was secretly a bit pleased with myself.

Me: "Como se dice?" ("How do you say it?")
Taxi driver: "CrisTObal"
Me: "Aaaaah. CrisTObal. CRIStobal." (comparing how he said it and I said it) "Por que es *muy* diferente, no?"
C: "Come on you...!" (pulling me out of the car)

But HONESTLY! If a tourist came up to you in England and asked the way to "SANSboorris" or "TesCOSS" you´d guess what they meant, wouldn´t you?!

Idiot.

We passed a very agreeable evening out with the two boys (although I had to dig myself out of a hole when Tom gave himself an 8 for attractiveness, and I - generously, I thought - said I reckoned he was nearer a 7...). We decided to leave just before midnight as things were hotting up between the boys and a table of 5 nearby Argentinian chicas. Pretty boy John was attracting all the attention, much to Tom´s chagrin, and the girls had passed a note over via the waitress, saying that they would very much like to see them sometime (how very forward!). John, in his far-better Spanish, wrote a note back on the reverse saying that they would be in Power on Saturday night. Cool, I like his style!
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Next day, C was limping like a good ´un. We´d slept at the other end of the bed so he could elevate his foot on the wooden headboard with a towel underneath it, but it was the worst night´s sleep for him. My G&Ts meant for once I slept through his thrashing about all night, even through the annoying yappy dog that wakes us every morning from about 5am. (Even dog-lover C wants to kill the little b*stard).

I said there was no way he was going to the refugio - what if one of the kids trod on his foot? - and he´d have to go to hospital to get it sorted.

Like a typical bloke, he croaked that he´d soldier on (why does a sore toe mean a croaky voice?!) but I sternly told him that I wasn´t having him limping for days in pain and besides, with him incapacitated again, he was ruining my trip too by not being able to do anything (tough love, OK?!).

Besides, we had arranged to meet Ali & John for our first Tango class tonight. If he couldn´t dance this week, fair enough, but I knew he wanted to come along as he didn´t want me getting swept off by a dashing Argentinian hunk.

So off he went to the docs. Again. I wonder if C breaks the record for the most visits to a hospital in the shortest time for aany of i-to-i´s volunteers?!
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In the staffroom that morning, John was red-eyed and broken. He said he was up till 4.30 being sick (twice), and that after we left, Tom had decided to stagger home about 1.30 and he´d gone off for a drive with the chicas (one on each lap, apparently...) and when they later saw Tom passed out on a bench, they had to rescue him.

John was still wearing last night´s clothes, but he swore he´d just crashed on his own bed fully-clothed and got up really late this morning. Riiii-i-i-i-i-ght.

Ali & I carried John today, he really did look really bad; I was quite proud he´d turned up at all. There was a moment when he had to run out of the classroom, but luckily he didn´t actually throw up again.

5b were HILARIOUS today, screaming like girls at a Take That concert as we walked in and running over to throw themselves at me with hugs and kisses (they are still a bit shy of doing this with the newbies) and chanting "Ingles! Ingles! Ingles!"...I think it´s what being famous must be like, all the kids want to say hi, touch you, hug you, kiss you, get a smile or a wave from you, carry your stuff for you, wipe your board down for you...very very sweet. You wouldn´t get that in England. We had a relatively quiet lesson after the initial cacophony (John had to cover his hungover little ears) as they were filling in their revising Animals sheet, so John, I think, was grateful for small mercies! I asked the kids to not use their books and try and remember them, and I think it was a better lesson as they had to really think about it. I gave the boy who finished first a smiley sticker on his jumper. He proudly tried to show it off to his mate on the next desk, who would not look up and sullenly said "Yo vi" ("I´ve seen it").

We finished with a drawing game that John invented but needs my drawing skills. The class gets put into 2 teams, and I, Rolf-Harris-Style ("Can you tell what it is yet?") draw an animal, starting with the parts that least give the game away (eyes, teeth, a tail or ear...). The first with the correct name of the animal "En INGLES!" gets a point. The winning team is always over-excitable and sing footy chant-style jeers at the crestfallen losers ("O-lay, o-lay, o-lay, o-la-a-a-y.....") None of that polite English sportsmanship over here it seems...

John had to leave Ali & me to mark the work as he felt so nauseous, with promises to pick up the slack another day, and to see us later for Tango. That´s cool; there´ll be days when we all have to cover for each other a little bit, we´ve slipped into being a team pretty quickly and even Ali is growing in confidence day by day.
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Tango was excellent fun. C hadn´t expected to enjoy it, and as I said, was only coming to um, protect me, but really, he needn´t have been worried. The class was mainly full of middle-aged and older women, with a few older gents (far fewer in number). We cooed as one statuesque older gent, dressed in a tweed jacket and with a big white handlebar moustache ("A bit Lesley Philips" said C) gently guided a 6 year old chica round the floor (who turned out to be Ariel´s daughter - of Ariel & Cecelia, our Posadas-famous, award-winning Tango teachers).

That´s my gaydar out of sorts then; he was VERY camp with slicked back hair and the tightest T-shirt & trousers (and was that GUYliner he was wearing?!)

C and I swapped and danced with Ali & John respectively for the last 15 mins or so, which was really really weird, a bit like starting a new relationship, as I had to get used to John´s style with his far quicker and smaller, less sweeping steps and adapt my own to suit to stop toes being trodden on.

(I did tread on C´s sore toe once, lightly, btw, which I was soooo sorry for, but he did point out it was him who had taken the wrong step...)

We enjoyed it so much we´ve all signed up for a month (4 lessons) although we´re going to try Mondays as Thursdays were packed. In a new bar we found after Tango (our now post-Tango joint, we decided), Ali said this experience had *made* her trip so far, and she was going to sign up for classes when she returned to Ireland. She might have a point. For me, it was especially nice as I was learning something with C, kinda romantic.

Plus it´ll give me chance to get my Tango heels out once a week at least and put a floaty dress on!

That night, I drifted off into a contented and happy sleep. I´ve finally got workmates, we´re all starting to get a social life, work´s going brilliantly and it´s all good.
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Friday: the last two days have been BITTERLY cold (3 degrees last night V told us!).

As it was I was struggling to pack 3 month´s stuff in one rucksack and it was sweltering when we left London so I couldn´t and didn´t think to bring a winter coat, boots, tights or even jeans ("Argentina? It´s foreign, innit?! Bound to be ´otter than England!") so I´ve been making like Joey from ´Friends´ having to wear virtually everything in my wardrobe all at once.

At school, I introduced John & Ali to the cutest classes 4a & 4b. We did ´the alphabet in English´ for 4a and revised it for 4b quickly before moving onto everyone´s favourite lesson, ´Los Animales´.

John´s developed a great snail impersonation. He´ll grab a kid´s rucksack, put it on and start crawling along the floor, oblivious to the red-earth dirt, and the kids LOVE it. He´s really good with them, a natural. I like how all our different styles and strengths are coming together and we are finding our equilibriums in the class, I´m the "rock", the one the kids and newbies look to for reassurance and help, John´s the silly teacher, like a big brother to the boys and a dreamboat for the girls, although he´s also really good with disciplining them, and Ali, the shyest of the 3, is gradually coming out of her shell and feeling more comfortable with helping the kids out as her Spanish improves. She´s also good at planning lessons.

Later that day after marking Ali & I sat at the staffroom computer (Windows 98!) and typed up the progress made for each class into a spreadsheet (yeah yeah, me and my spreadsheets!)

I´d been writing it down in my notebook on different pages, but I needed to do something we´d all have access to. I felt an amazing sense of satisfaction as I looked at how far we´d come already in 3 weeks. With all this info at a glance, we even managed to plan the following week!
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At 6pm, Kirsten came round with her baby honey bear, all wrapped up in an old checked shirt of Pilar´s (her host) and then in her zip-up fleece to keep it warm. She looked pregnant, and therefore very funny with the glass of wine I offered her. We cooed over the tiny thing, although I was a bit disappointed it didn´t do anything, but as C pointed out, I don´t do much when I´m asleep either. Fair point.

When it finally stirred, K offered me a chance to hold Pooh Bear (or Winnie) as we´ve decided to call it. (Honey bear, Hunny, geddit?!). As my hands were freezing (we have no heating!) I put my gloves on to hold the wee thing. It rested on my shoulder and sniffed my face with it´s tiny cold, wet nose which tickled and made me laugh. It then started to drag itself up my body with surprisingly strong grip, which meant I eventually had to let go as it scrabbled to dive under my hair and to the warmth of the back of my neck. I then *squealed* (a little in pain) as it clawed it´s way through my hair to the top of my head! K eventually pulled the little critter off and C took over. Pics to follow...

We were planning to stay in tonight but it was Tom´s birthday, so V invited us to hers for pizzas, empanadas and a few drinks. Flor kindly lent K & I a warm coat each before we headed out.

I think it was being so tired (not the vino, oh no), but C said something I got upset about and I blanked him childishly for a bit at the end of the evening. Stupidly I can´t even remember what it was about, but I went to bed in a huff.
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Saturday: Woke up knowing we´d had a tiff last night but I was too embarrassed to admit I´d no idea why I was annoyed with him, and he didn´t want to bring it up again either, so eventually I think we both decided to ignore it and carry on as if nothing had happened.

Tried to buy a coat today: can´t find anything I like, so I´ll have to borrow Flor´s again tonight.

Am about to get ready to meet Kirsten in town (at midnight!). Ali is round now and I´m being anti-social, so I´ll end here for now and hope to blog again in the week, Flor´s workload permitting...

Los nuevos voluntarios...WITH MORE PHOTOS!

The new kids on the block arrived on Saturday. We met them in the afternoon in a bar in town, had a spot of lunch and I think I´ve discovered two new drinking buddies, to (temporarily) replace my regular gal pals in London - YAY!

Tom is from Ireland and is teaching football. The quietest of the four, I think he was pretty spaced from jet-lag; he didn´t say much more. John, the other guy is a *very* pretty boy with huge blue eyes, from Eastbourne (Lisa! Someone else from Eastbourne!) and a gap year student, then we have Alison from Ireland - a another gapper - and Kirsten from Oz, who´s super-fit and plays hockey to some competitive sort of level as well as producing multimedia stuff and documentaries. Her work gave her 9 months off and are holding her job open. (Hmph!)

John & Ali are my new colleagues from Monday, so they fired questions at me rat-tat-tat about the school. C and I told everyone about Posadas, ´Power´ nightclub, the bars on the riverside which we hadn´t visited yet, and the pound shops where they could stock up on stuff they might need. We advised Kirsten, who is doing the conservation project, to get thick gloves or risk bites from potentially rabid monkeys. And she´d thought she´d be dealing with ickle fluffy animals!

The new boys left for a siesta soon after eating (lightweights), leaving us chicas and C (he always gets left with the girls, have you noticed?) to demolish a couple of bottles of wine (no vino por C...para las antibioticas), before we tottered home and I had a tipsy snooze on the sofa.

I woke to find I´d missed 3 calls from Natalia, presumably to cancel that evening´s plans, but I couldn´t reach her back. C & I headed out anyway, with vague plans to meet the newbies and Catherine later, which in the end didn´t materialise because they were all tired. What´s wrong with youngsters these days!?!

But remembering we were in bed by 9.30 on the first night, I´d expected as much.

We two tried to find the recommended fish restaurant in our guide book, failed to, and, hungry now, I whinged a bit as we struggled for 45 minutes find anywhere that was open on a Saturday night (weird!). Plus my new, v. cute patent black ballet pumps with a little bow on - a necessary purchase as my Primarni pumps are already trashed, that´s 8 quid shoes for you - were rubbing after all that trudging (that´s 42 pesos shoes for you...7 quid).

Eventually we fell on the first place open, Cristobal, a busy brasserie-style joint, and I wolfed down the first bit of fish I´ve had all trip (salad, no chips...losing the lard, remember?!) whilst we people-watched and marvelled at the amazingly retro hairstyles (Status Quo and home perm kits were mentioned), and, not for the first time, the love that knows no (style) boundaries, that which Argentinian girls seem to have for eye-wateringly tight spray-on jeans and leggings, which pretty much means it´s Camel-Toe Central.

Yeuk - don´t they know we´re trying to eat!??!

Fell asleep watching Kill Bill. Only Uma can get away with something that clingy round her nether regions.
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Yesterday, Sunday 25th - we joined Kirsten & Ali for a day trip to San Ignacio - site of the Jesuit Ruins (apparently featured in the film The Mission, which I haven´t watched). Today at school, John told me that Misiones has the third largest Jewish population in the world (after Israel and the States). C was incredulous - what about Golders Green? - so I´ll have to verify that fact tomorrow, don´t quote me yet.

Our coach took an hour to get there and cost 5 pesos each. About 80p. We ran onto the top deck to bagsy the back row like kids on a school trip. Our seats were big, plumptious and comfortable, reclining to 45 degrees, footrests, with cup holders, and a man with a tray of hot coffee came round during the journey (precisely before we got to a very bumpy bit...I nearly christened C with mine). Read and learn, London Underground!

Now I don´t drink coffee, but the Northern bird in me says ´It´s freeee! ´ave it!´, so I took the double-espresso-sized cup offered. C passed. Us 3 girls then spent the next 10 minutes delicately sipping the over-strong, ridiculously-sweet coffee, and wincing between sips, before I discovered the aforementioned cup-holders and we got rid of the offending beverages.

The best bit of the day was actually just *before* the ruins, when we stumbled across a charming little cafe/restaurant with a smiley man we found out was called Diogenes Lenguaza (´un poco dio, un poco diablo!´ he joked), who reminded me of my dad with his warm hospitality and mannerisms, and, unusually, proceeded to *talk* us through a lengthy menu, a lesson in comprehension if there ever was one. I was delighted to realise I understood most of it and latched onto the grilled salmon, as did the other chicas. C had steak & chips, like a proper Brit.


A ´welcome´ in every language from Diogenes


Ali & Kirsten, my new drinking buddies


My Argie ´Dad´...apparently you can Google him.

After the meal and another two bottles of vino (I love these girls already!) Diogenes took us through a large collection of photos (on the end wall, with more on a long trestle table below it) of him on his travels. D and his wife in Scotland, London, New York, Germany...etc...meeting the Queen and the King of Spain (as you do), and with various famous Argentinian singers, actors and dignitaries at his gaff. He told us he loves travelling, although he only speaks Spanish. He also told me, as C played with his dog...a cross bred German Shepherd called Palermo (in honour of his favourite team, Boca Juniors), that he lives in Posadas too, used to have a restaurant there, but it closed in the recession, so now he just has two. Think he does alright though; our meal came to 300 pesos all in, about 50 quid (they have no pound sign on this keyboard if you´re wondering), which is quite pricey for here. Still, we´d eaten well and had a lovely time, so we agreed it´d be good for a couple more Sunday lunches...there´s bugger all to do where we live, I´m realising, after all. (Although we probably missed the most exciting day in Posadas as we only remembered it was Revolution Day, as we left on the bus).

The Jesuit ruins were...well, a pile of 400 year old rocks. Go figure. Still, I´m the sort of girl who, in the middle of vast rolling countryside, has yawned ´Seen one tree, seen ´em all´...so you might be more impressed than I was. I´m a city girl...and Buenos Aires is 9 weeks away!


The artiest shot I could get of, basically, a pile of old rocks.

Still, my lack of interest might also be as after 3 glasses of vino, we girls were struggling to concentrate on reading the descriptions of the artefacts in the museum. Even in English.

It got dark really quickly as we walked from the ruins to catch our bus back. As the road seemed to go on forever, C started joking about us missing the last bus and having to spend the night, horror-movie style, in the woods. Before we could run to the stop, 2 buses went past. Shit! When *was* the last bus? Why hadn´t anyone checked?! Panic set in.

Then next vehicle that pulled up to the stop was a minibus, the sort that takes old people out on day-trips. But it had ´Posadas´ on the side.

Lo and behold, the ´conductor´ beckoned us on, and took our 5 pesos each. We realised too late that it was the most packed minibus *ever* - standing room only and C was stood virtually in the doorway. We were all pressed up together, like the tube at rush hour, but it felt *far* more precarious. A mini-bus. In the dark. In rural Argentina. With a driver who kept taking his eyes off the road to reach for the fresh maté his assistant kept brewing up from a flask.


Fear. On the bus back. We actually *were* packed this close

I tried to put images of me hurtling through the windscreen out of my mind for a whole hour, whilst also trying not to think about those girls who recently died on that bus ride in Quito. Of course it didn´t work; if I tell you *not* to think about pink elephants, that will be the image in your head now, yes?

I sincerely hoped this wasn´t going to be the last thing I ever did.
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Thankfully it wasn´t.

Monday; school today with my new colleagues. We will need to find our rhythm, it was a little chaotic finding the best way of working in front of an unforgiving audience, with no dress rehearsals, but I can see that extra people is a good thing, although 3 might be overkill.

They´ve asked me to start doing afternoons next week too (eek!), so I might see if we can start working a shift system, with 2 people per lesson.


Above: A couple more pics of my kids from last Friday. Just for fun.

Fresh meat is always exciting in any environment, but I noticed John in particular was getting lots of attention from the chicas, in particular a 9 year old in 5a, Triana, the one who looks like Drew Barrymore in her ET days. (And if you think that´s a bit young, remember most kids round here are parents by 16/17)

Whenever John went near her crew of girlie girls to give them their exercise books, she squealed and fanned herself with her hands as she´s probably seen ladies on the telly do when they see a good-looking man. (OK, OK, I´ll get a pic of him, but I didn´t want to scare him by papping him on day one, OK?!)

As John and I were marking later (Ali had to whizz back today), he laughed when I told him about Triana and said he did notice it was hard when he was trying to get them to look at their work and they kept gazing up at him. Hilarious!

BTW The newbies are not 23, as I was told. They´re both only 19 (although quite mature, you wouldn´t guess).

But Christ, now I really *do* feel old! :)

OK...it wasn´t man flu...NOW WITH PICS

Firstly, thanks for the posts and Facebook comments, dear readers...it´s nice to get feedback and these little snippets of love and support from back home are a real boost. (PK, the full ´blackboard debacle´ (as it may forever be known) is on the link below the one you read...click from the bottom link up for the story in the right order! ; ) x

Secondly, I´m slowly (due to the connection) adding pics to previous blogs over this week, so do scroll back through the posts, and thirdly, to answer a question, I´m blogging 2-3 times a week, so keep checking for updates!

Thursday 22 May; today, my two naughtiest classes, 5B and 6B. We revised telling the time in 5B. Again, I´m not sure they can tell the time in Spanish, but we try. (Sigh!). I also noticed, after a chat with C last night, that at 1 hour 20 mins, the reason my kids go a bit mentalist is because the lessons are too long. I can keep their attention for the first 45 mins (as C reminded me, our own lessons were only about that long: a double period was 90 mins), up to an hour they started to get twitchy. You can forget teaching them anything in the last 20 mins, when the naughtiest will start tearing it up good and proper. Imagine trying to keep the tykes interested in a language that´s not your own, whilst trying to teach them a language that´s not theirs, and then a concept they don´t get in their own language?!?! I´m amazed I kept them interested for as long as I did. I mentioned my thoughts to Graciela in the break, she said she´d look at changing the classes. BTW, if you think my Spanish is coming on leaps and bounds...sorta, but there´s a lot to be said for using your hands and facial expressions too!

We had that old favourite...´Los animales´ for 6B. They weren´t nearly as impressed with my drawings as the other class : ( , although my animal impressions went down well and the boys at the front took great pleasure in trying to guess the animal *beneath* the current one through the cheap, thin paper of the pad I´d drawn them on. The blackboard, to my eternal relief, worked *OK* with a damp rag. It´s still more legible than it was before, which is the main thing: I noticed far fewer spelling errors in their work this time.

Back home; C *still* not well and getting *worse*. This, I felt, after days of teasing from Aida and Flor, really did necessitate a visit to ´el medico´. Besides, me spending so much time with him, and not getting this ´cold´ didn´t seem right...

I, (like you, John), am still perplexed as to ´the mystery of the missing bra´, and fear it will never be solved (C reckons there may be a black (bra) market in underwear with proper cup sizes) but mummy dearest has done her stuff on figleaves.com so we have reinforcements (quite literally!) on their way.

V came round tonight and between us 4 women, managed to nag C into going to the docs with V, whilst Flor & I settled down to watch ´Memoirs of a Geisha´ (with Spanish subtitles). I last saw the film with my mum on a girlie (and as it turned out, Oriental-themed) day in London. I then took her for a potter through Chinatown and through a seedier bit of Soho (much to her amusement) before a final stop for tea and lovely little rainbow-coloured cakes at Yauatcha (go! And the dim sum downstairs are FAB too).

Anyway, I digress.

C´s only gone and got himself PNEUMONIA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I´m not sure how you catch it, but I appear, for now at least, to be in rude health. As I joked to Aida and Flor later that evening, ´Las mujers estan *mas* fuertes!´

But I do feel a little bit guilty now for thinking it was only man flu ...

Still he´s on the pills, feeling better for finally knowing what´s wrong with him, and should be back at work on Monday (I thought it was life threatening?! The wonders of modern medicine, eh?!) so worry ye not.

PS Mum/Dad, if you´re reading this, please don´t tell C´s mum as she´ll only worry and get on a plane out here. He´ll tell her when it´s over. I had to mention it here though to apologise about thinking he was exaggerating in my last post!
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23 May...Friday; my cutest classes 4A & 4B. I got to school and realised the whole school were all dressed up in their finest; one of my boys, Lucas, in an obviously hand-me-down suit jacket a few sizes too big, a lot in fancy dress, and the poorer kids - the majority - in their white ´lab coats´ which act like a cheap uniform, covering - and keeping clean - whatever they are wearing underneath. It was big celebrations for Revolution Day in Argentina (actually on 25 May, Sunday). At 9am, the kids were gathered in the playground, and each form did a little dance/song to celebrate. Little Macarena looked adorable in the dress her mum Fabiana said it took her 10 nights to run up (blurry pic, but you get the gist!)

Lucas and his crew...

The ceremonial opening

´Yaaaaay, Macarena!´

A shorter lesson due to the celebrations, so as I only have 4a once a week, I figured, revise numbers. I´m getting good at games which require audience participation, but noticed the bright kids *always* come up to write the answers on the board. So I concocted a game where each child gets a number (1-25) and I write sums on the board. Anyone can guess the answer, but only the kid with the right number gets to come up and write it, as a word, (´Si, en Inglés!´) on the board. It kept *all* the kids involved as their number could come up at any time.

I decided to do ´the alphabet´ with 4b, as the English alphabet *sounds*, and is sightly different to the Spanish one (no ´ñ´ and no ´ll´...I had to explain to the kids as they shouted ´Falta! Falta!´ thinking I´d made a mistake in missing them out...). Flor had suggested I teach them this basic - I´d skipped it originally, thinking ´of course they´d know the alphabet in English by now´, but I was wrong. Note: these kids are 8-9, and have been learning English since they were 5. What *exactly* did anyone before me teach them?!?!? I used a similar tactic with alphabet picture cards, calling out words and the child with that word´s initial letter had to step up and write it on the board.

At lunch I went to the nearby cafe and got talking to the lady behind the counter. Somehow she started talking about her daughter, who it turns out is 15 and suffering from lung cancer. She showed me a picture on her phone, a pretty girl with a headscarf on, presumably covering the effects of chemo. Her mum´s eyes filled with tears when I asked if she was in hospital and she told me no, at home, because they couldn´t go to the hospital any more. Whether that was due to distance, cost, or the physical state of her daughter I wasn´t sure, and didn´t know how to ask, so I just said sadly, ´Lo siento´. I mentioned my oldest friend Lizzy who is battling cancer at the moment, I guess, to show I understood a little bit, but I thought about the difference in access to medical treatment in the UK. I felt a bit depressed about this poor lady´s situation, and how helpless she must feel, as I walked back to school.

Met Fabiana´s son, Lucas, 11 at lunch as I was marking. A bright kid with very good English, he goes to an English speaking private school (so she doesn´t send her kid here, I noted!) and we had a lovely little chat. He´s so much more advanced than the 11 year olds I teach. He showed me a perfectly-spelled essay he´d written on the history of Walt Disney. Mine can´t write a sentence about their own family yet!!!

Me marking (with my homemade exercise books, tied up with string...)

More ´Revolutionary´ shenanigans after lunch, so I stayed to take pictures for Graciela and Cristina, who decided to make me unofficial photographer for the day.

´What *YOU* looking at?!´

Altogether now...´aaaaah!´

Dancing in the playground/assembly area

All day, that is, except for the bit when G introduced me to the whole school (and their parents) and I had to step up and say a few words in Spanish to them all. CHRIST, I could have been warned!!! I managed to burble out something about being ´muy contento in la escuela´ and Cristina got some awful shots (all but one deleted now) of me looking nigh on pregnant. Note to self, ´that top + those combats = don´t do it´.

Everyone said the weight would start to drop off me out here, but Aida´s cooking, puddings and the ´dulce de leche´ (a sweet gooey caramel-ly spread for bread which they also use in yummy pastries) have put paid to that. I regretted the two slices of pizza I ate at lunch and am now on a no-puddings-no-dulce regime, I told Aida.

The new voluntarios have arrived in Posadas today and have their orientation tomorrow, so V said she´d call me to meet them. From next Monday I´m going to have two young whippersnappers (both 23) joining me in my class (I´m sticking to 27, then!). It´ll be nice to have some English-speaking company at school, and help in the classrooms, although I have relished being able to bond with the staff and kids alone, and my Spanish has improved for it too. An interesting new dynamic, anyway.

Got home, checked outfit again in mirror - why does it look alright now?!?! - and popped round to see Norma, our Spanish teacher and V´s mum, to apologise in person for our absence this week due to C´s illness (we agreed to resume classes on Monday), and also to see if she was OK. V told me last night, her mum had broken her arm in ´a stupid fall´ - aren´t they all? - last weekend. Poor love is in a cast past her elbow. It´s her right (writing) hand too!

Guess what...it was pizza for tea...!!!! But it was very tasty, Flor´s homemade.

I stopped at three slices and tried to pick the ones with least cheese on.

Ah well, ´el diet´ (I made that one up) begins tomorrow.

Oh no, we´re going out for dinner with Natalia and her bloke...Sunday then...?!