Graffiti in Montevideo.
Colonia
Colonia- Derek and our pal Hop-a-long
Punta Del Diablo
Punta Del Diablo restaurant.
Pampita outside the restaurant.
Derek with said restaurants dog Pampita.
Sand dune jumping. Take number 17.
Sand dune jumping again.
Wednesday, October 08, 2008
Photos of Uruguay
Finally I have pictures of Uruguay. There are more but I have to steal them off Derek. They'll be on Flickr.
Graffiti in Montevideo.
Colonia
Colonia- Derek and our pal Hop-a-long
Punta Del Diablo
Punta Del Diablo restaurant.
Pampita outside the restaurant.
Derek with said restaurants dog Pampita.
Sand dune jumping. Take number 17.
Sand dune jumping again.
Graffiti in Montevideo.
Colonia
Colonia- Derek and our pal Hop-a-long
Punta Del Diablo
Punta Del Diablo restaurant.
Pampita outside the restaurant.
Derek with said restaurants dog Pampita.
Sand dune jumping. Take number 17.
Sand dune jumping again.
Tuesday, October 07, 2008
24 hours to Salta
Salta is a pretty city. It has a gondola up to the top of one hill - complete with Jesus on a cross - that g
ives views of the entire city. Except it was hazy when we were there. Seeing as tourist companies wanted to charge $140 Us for El Tren de las Nubes (a day trip i might add), we hired a car for just under 1000pesos. Take that, tourist companies. The drive to San Antonio is practically the same route as the train, 80% of it anyway. And you get to walk on the Viaduct instead of just sitting on it in a train. But that comes later.
Under recommendation,
we drove to Cachi first, listening to our four cds (2 80's 
collection and 2 tarantino collection). We stopped for sandwiches at the lookout which is the height of Mount Cook - a literally dizzying thought. After 'looking ou
t' and eating sandwiches with 
our mouths (it's the only way to eat sandwiches [FCC]), we continued on our way with the effects of altitude sickness starting to make an appearance. My 16 year no-vomiting streak was broken at Cachi, taking all afternoon to relieve itself from me. Thankfully I made it out of the tent in time. I spent most of our Cachi time inside the tent. Jane unfortunately spent too much time in the sun, during the 2 hour period where her and Derek tried to find some ruins. As she tried panadol, water and sleeping with a cloth over her head, she missed out on of the most stunning drives I've ever done. Out of respect for th
e sickie, Derek and I kept our 'ohhs' and 'ahhs' and 'look at thats' in silent mode. That way, Jane didn't really know just how amazing the drive she was missing out on was. Initially we wound our way through plains before breaking into these rock formations that simply jutted out of the earth at awkward angles like giant slabs of pancakes. The colours were lit up by the late afternoon sun, gleaming reds, oranges,shale grey and,of course, brown. Or perhaps more dulux cafe latte.
We stayed in San Carlos
so that we could visit La Bogedita the next morning. A tiny family run bodega just north of Cafayate, they make a select few wines which are very very sweet. They still use traditional methods for pressing the grapes (thats your feet and old wooden presses).
Cafayate is a pretty little town that has the typical packs of dogs roaming the square for food and trouble. It also has donkies that occasionally stop in to munch on the square's grass, only to be chased out of town by the territorial dogs. We visited four bodegas over the course of two days, one above 2000m, one cerca de 1700m and an organic winery. We did the obligatory 'Montana' bodega of the region but there wasnt much to rave about there. Most of the wines (including the organic wines) cost between 15 pesos y 25 pesos. Thats about $6 - $11 NZ. Needless to say, we helped the local economy quite a bit.
We visited Quilmes, which is an ancient Indian site that was taken over by the Spainiards. The Quilmes indians were either killed or sent to BuenosAires. A sprawling metropolis, the part we could roam had
been rebuilt. And it was only 15% of the total empire. White quartz was used to put designs on certain walls - snakes for fertility and llamas because llamas are the 
cutest animals in the world (don't quote me on that reason). Jane and i hung out in the shade of this beast of a cacti, before meeting out first llama close up. Pretty exciting. From Quilmes, a huge standstorm blew up, making driving home exciting. It meant we left Cafayate a day later than expected though.
At our campsite, we met a lovely man from Romanian called Albie. Thankfully, I was the only way on Flight of the Conchords overload and had to disguise my laugh in my glass of wine. Of course this was topped off when we met his Albanian girfriend. They weren't racist but there were definately no jellybean tears.
The drive back to Salta takes you through a series of great rock formations and canyons. Jane discovered
her rock climbing skills, beating Derek up to the top of several rock for
mations.
In El Anfiteatro, there was a band playing. I danced around to their music, enjoying the freedom of spinning arms out stretched. The lead guitarist declared his love for me once the song had fin
ished, in rather a loud voice as I was on the other side of the 'room'. He didn't take his eyes off of me for the rest of our time there, leaving Jane plenty of scope to stare at the young hot guitarist also prese
nt in the band. She took a sudden interest in looking at Derek's photos after that.
Garganta Del Diablo is another huge rock formation that seems to swallow you whole as you walk/climb further into it. You aren't allowed to get close enough to see the actual Devil's throat though - a hole in the rock at the back of the slope.
The rest of the drive to Salta was less spectacular scenery wise but more entertaining Chevrolet of Love wise. Jane showed us her car dancing skills, winning the International C
ar Dancing Champanionships, and then proceeded to lose all dignity trying to learn how to say 'HAI'! It was more "Land a-hoy".
Camping Swiss Alpine Chalet style, we stayed the night just out of Salta. Early the next morning we followed the Tren de las Nubes up to San Antonio. At 3900m, we were all feeling the effects of the altitude, some more than others. We took a local guide to the Viaduct and climbed up to the 4200m top to walk across it. It took us around 15 minutes to walk up the 64m track. Oh yeah and it was bloody freezing that night.
The drive to Salinas Grandes had us rather worried about our car's suspension. But the Chevrolet of Love held out. Completely white and mindbogglingly flat,the salar is a prehistoric lake that dried up. There is still water throughout the layers of salt but sometimes its up to 8 metres deep. Impressive, but forgettable once you've seen the Salar de Uyuni.
Our aim was to make it to Humahuaca by nightfall and this was easily achieved because the signposts would drop 20km in distance in a space of 100m. We still can't figure that one out.
The road was windy and steep, dropping 2000m. We drove past the Hill of seven colours, but a lot of the hillsides were a mix of greys, reds and yellows. There are a lot of rock formations similar to the Pinnacles in Cape Palliser, NZ, but on a much grander scale.
Upon reaching Humahuaca,we had the most ridiculous incident of the trip which was running into an old university friend of mine whom I hadn't been in contact with for about 2 years, in a campsite that was meant to be closed. Jane and Derek stared in disbelief as my friend and I hugged and leapt about. Ridiculous.
Our final day was spent taking a trip to Iruya, a pretty little town pretty much in the middle of nowhere. The bus ride there had Jane hanging on, praying and refusing to look out the window. Granted we were coming down some hairpin corners that disappeared beneath the front of the bus as we went around them. It was a Sunday so most townpeoples were at church, meaning finding food was rather difficult. We caught the early bus back so we could leave for Salta e
arlier. And we would have gotten there in relatively good time if the State Highway 9 hadn't turned into a windy one lane road. Amazing scenery, but we had to navigate hairpin corners while being on the lookout for cars and stock- donkies, horses and cows with complete disregard to a large thing with lights bearing down on them.
Our road trip over, we regrettably had to give our Chevrolet of Love back. With the words to Amadeus, Shout and Heaven is a Place on Earth still ringing through our minds, we faced the fact that in only one more day, Jane would be leaving us.
So after the licuardos a tennis final (with three rather
vocal supporters in the restaurant) and a rousing game of Canasta, we took a trip to the Salta museum. It is here that they are housing the three bodies of the 500 year old children they found at the top of Mount Llullaillaco. On display are most of the artifacts that were found with them, and one of the children. Discreetly placed behind a screen, you don't have to view the child if you don't want. But who would pass up a chance to see an Inca mummy? We got to see the boy (they change the child once every six months) and I was overwhelmed by the preservation of this child, his clothing, the feather adorning his head, everything. He has his knees pulled up and his face on his knees so you cant view his face. But the sheer incredibility that this person is 500 years old, means you can't draw your gaze from him. If you ever are in Salta, you have to go to this muesuem. It is done tastefully, with recognition of the controversy that surrounded the bringing down of the children off the mountain, and the displaying of them. Everything about their sacrifice is fascinating.
And so the Adventures of the Terrible Three came to an end as Jane bravely boarded an overnight bus bound for Buenos Aires. of course she had to go back to the Lime House to return that book you stole ... right Jane?
ives views of the entire city. Except it was hazy when we were there. Seeing as tourist companies wanted to charge $140 Us for El Tren de las Nubes (a day trip i might add), we hired a car for just under 1000pesos. Take that, tourist companies. The drive to San Antonio is practically the same route as the train, 80% of it anyway. And you get to walk on the Viaduct instead of just sitting on it in a train. But that comes later.Under recommendation,
we drove to Cachi first, listening to our four cds (2 80's 
collection and 2 tarantino collection). We stopped for sandwiches at the lookout which is the height of Mount Cook - a literally dizzying thought. After 'looking ou
t' and eating sandwiches with 
our mouths (it's the only way to eat sandwiches [FCC]), we continued on our way with the effects of altitude sickness starting to make an appearance. My 16 year no-vomiting streak was broken at Cachi, taking all afternoon to relieve itself from me. Thankfully I made it out of the tent in time. I spent most of our Cachi time inside the tent. Jane unfortunately spent too much time in the sun, during the 2 hour period where her and Derek tried to find some ruins. As she tried panadol, water and sleeping with a cloth over her head, she missed out on of the most stunning drives I've ever done. Out of respect for th
e sickie, Derek and I kept our 'ohhs' and 'ahhs' and 'look at thats' in silent mode. That way, Jane didn't really know just how amazing the drive she was missing out on was. Initially we wound our way through plains before breaking into these rock formations that simply jutted out of the earth at awkward angles like giant slabs of pancakes. The colours were lit up by the late afternoon sun, gleaming reds, oranges,shale grey and,of course, brown. Or perhaps more dulux cafe latte.We stayed in San Carlos
so that we could visit La Bogedita the next morning. A tiny family run bodega just north of Cafayate, they make a select few wines which are very very sweet. They still use traditional methods for pressing the grapes (thats your feet and old wooden presses).Cafayate is a pretty little town that has the typical packs of dogs roaming the square for food and trouble. It also has donkies that occasionally stop in to munch on the square's grass, only to be chased out of town by the territorial dogs. We visited four bodegas over the course of two days, one above 2000m, one cerca de 1700m and an organic winery. We did the obligatory 'Montana' bodega of the region but there wasnt much to rave about there. Most of the wines (including the organic wines) cost between 15 pesos y 25 pesos. Thats about $6 - $11 NZ. Needless to say, we helped the local economy quite a bit.
We visited Quilmes, which is an ancient Indian site that was taken over by the Spainiards. The Quilmes indians were either killed or sent to BuenosAires. A sprawling metropolis, the part we could roam had
been rebuilt. And it was only 15% of the total empire. White quartz was used to put designs on certain walls - snakes for fertility and llamas because llamas are the 
cutest animals in the world (don't quote me on that reason). Jane and i hung out in the shade of this beast of a cacti, before meeting out first llama close up. Pretty exciting. From Quilmes, a huge standstorm blew up, making driving home exciting. It meant we left Cafayate a day later than expected though.At our campsite, we met a lovely man from Romanian called Albie. Thankfully, I was the only way on Flight of the Conchords overload and had to disguise my laugh in my glass of wine. Of course this was topped off when we met his Albanian girfriend. They weren't racist but there were definately no jellybean tears.
The drive back to Salta takes you through a series of great rock formations and canyons. Jane discovered
her rock climbing skills, beating Derek up to the top of several rock for
mations.In El Anfiteatro, there was a band playing. I danced around to their music, enjoying the freedom of spinning arms out stretched. The lead guitarist declared his love for me once the song had fin
ished, in rather a loud voice as I was on the other side of the 'room'. He didn't take his eyes off of me for the rest of our time there, leaving Jane plenty of scope to stare at the young hot guitarist also prese
nt in the band. She took a sudden interest in looking at Derek's photos after that.Garganta Del Diablo is another huge rock formation that seems to swallow you whole as you walk/climb further into it. You aren't allowed to get close enough to see the actual Devil's throat though - a hole in the rock at the back of the slope.
The rest of the drive to Salta was less spectacular scenery wise but more entertaining Chevrolet of Love wise. Jane showed us her car dancing skills, winning the International C
ar Dancing Champanionships, and then proceeded to lose all dignity trying to learn how to say 'HAI'! It was more "Land a-hoy".
Camping Swiss Alpine Chalet style, we stayed the night just out of Salta. Early the next morning we followed the Tren de las Nubes up to San Antonio. At 3900m, we were all feeling the effects of the altitude, some more than others. We took a local guide to the Viaduct and climbed up to the 4200m top to walk across it. It took us around 15 minutes to walk up the 64m track. Oh yeah and it was bloody freezing that night.
The drive to Salinas Grandes had us rather worried about our car's suspension. But the Chevrolet of Love held out. Completely white and mindbogglingly flat,the salar is a prehistoric lake that dried up. There is still water throughout the layers of salt but sometimes its up to 8 metres deep. Impressive, but forgettable once you've seen the Salar de Uyuni.
Our aim was to make it to Humahuaca by nightfall and this was easily achieved because the signposts would drop 20km in distance in a space of 100m. We still can't figure that one out.
The road was windy and steep, dropping 2000m. We drove past the Hill of seven colours, but a lot of the hillsides were a mix of greys, reds and yellows. There are a lot of rock formations similar to the Pinnacles in Cape Palliser, NZ, but on a much grander scale.
Upon reaching Humahuaca,we had the most ridiculous incident of the trip which was running into an old university friend of mine whom I hadn't been in contact with for about 2 years, in a campsite that was meant to be closed. Jane and Derek stared in disbelief as my friend and I hugged and leapt about. Ridiculous.
Our final day was spent taking a trip to Iruya, a pretty little town pretty much in the middle of nowhere. The bus ride there had Jane hanging on, praying and refusing to look out the window. Granted we were coming down some hairpin corners that disappeared beneath the front of the bus as we went around them. It was a Sunday so most townpeoples were at church, meaning finding food was rather difficult. We caught the early bus back so we could leave for Salta e
arlier. And we would have gotten there in relatively good time if the State Highway 9 hadn't turned into a windy one lane road. Amazing scenery, but we had to navigate hairpin corners while being on the lookout for cars and stock- donkies, horses and cows with complete disregard to a large thing with lights bearing down on them.Our road trip over, we regrettably had to give our Chevrolet of Love back. With the words to Amadeus, Shout and Heaven is a Place on Earth still ringing through our minds, we faced the fact that in only one more day, Jane would be leaving us.
So after the licuardos a tennis final (with three rather
vocal supporters in the restaurant) and a rousing game of Canasta, we took a trip to the Salta museum. It is here that they are housing the three bodies of the 500 year old children they found at the top of Mount Llullaillaco. On display are most of the artifacts that were found with them, and one of the children. Discreetly placed behind a screen, you don't have to view the child if you don't want. But who would pass up a chance to see an Inca mummy? We got to see the boy (they change the child once every six months) and I was overwhelmed by the preservation of this child, his clothing, the feather adorning his head, everything. He has his knees pulled up and his face on his knees so you cant view his face. But the sheer incredibility that this person is 500 years old, means you can't draw your gaze from him. If you ever are in Salta, you have to go to this muesuem. It is done tastefully, with recognition of the controversy that surrounded the bringing down of the children off the mountain, and the displaying of them. Everything about their sacrifice is fascinating.And so the Adventures of the Terrible Three came to an end as Jane bravely boarded an overnight bus bound for Buenos Aires. of course she had to go back to the Lime House to return that book you stole ... right Jane?
Iguazu Falls
An 18 hour bus ride complete with wine, dinner and breakfast, led the Terrible Three to Iguazu, a sleepy little town that looks and feels exactly like a small Queensland town. So much so, that this was remarked on several times by one member of the group. The heat was stifling, forcing two group members to take the plunge into the hostel's pool.
Iguazu is definitely an entire day trip, meaning the early bus needed to be taken in the hope to fit all the walks in. Starting off in the jungle, one particular group member was more than a little concerned she would encounter a puma. Kindly, the other group members didn't tell her pumas are more nocturnal than not. They let her be on her guard all day even though the
chances of meeting a puma during the day in the forest is little to none.
However several unusual animals were spotted, including a toucan and monkeys. Not as in the band, but the animal. Seven to eight monkeys following each other along the path, making ridiculous jumps from tree to tree and never dropping.
The other animals were and looking like a giant oversized rat. Perhaps its Master Splinter from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.
The waterfall at the end of the jungle walk, called for two group members to shower underneath it. The rocks w
ere incredibly slippery, causing our Neil Young obsessed fan to return to the waterfall by method of sliding over the rocks. She claims she planned it. It wasn't until a little later on, when she leapt over a "huge crevasse" to make it back to safety, that her jeans (not rock climbing material) gave out. This left her with air conditioned jeans for the rest of her time in South America.
The Adventurous
Three took a boat ride into the spray of the falls, crossing briefly from the tango waters to the salsa waters of Brazil. Unless you were wearing sunglasses, being drenched under a powerful waterfall means nothing except getting soaking wet and feeling like you were having a rather extreme cold shower. No chance of pictures either although you can, of course, buy the DVD of your ride for approximately a million dollars.
The legend is that there was a young warrior who fell in love with a beautiful princess. They ran off togethe
r down the river. A particular god was so enraged at this that he caused the ground to fall away beneath them. She fell to her death, becoming a rock at the bottom of the falls (which is pretty hard to see), and he remained a tree at the top, to forever look down upon her and their broken love. Heart renching. The stuff legends are ....
Anyway, the sheer volume of water that goes over the falls is unbelievable. The boardwalk out to Garganta Del Diablo takes you over calm waters with fish swimming lazily by. Within metres of the falls, the water picks up speed and thun
ders down around an 82m drop.
Each member of the group marveled at the fact that nobody knows what the bottom of the falls looks like. The Chinaman remarked that there could be a full orchestra down there and nobody would know. Thats right. The possibility of that must be pretty high, chino.
Iguazu is definitely an entire day trip, meaning the early bus needed to be taken in the hope to fit all the walks in. Starting off in the jungle, one particular group member was more than a little concerned she would encounter a puma. Kindly, the other group members didn't tell her pumas are more nocturnal than not. They let her be on her guard all day even though the
chances of meeting a puma during the day in the forest is little to none.However several unusual animals were spotted, including a toucan and monkeys. Not as in the band, but the animal. Seven to eight monkeys following each other along the path, making ridiculous jumps from tree to tree and never dropping.
The other animals were and looking like a giant oversized rat. Perhaps its Master Splinter from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.The waterfall at the end of the jungle walk, called for two group members to shower underneath it. The rocks w
ere incredibly slippery, causing our Neil Young obsessed fan to return to the waterfall by method of sliding over the rocks. She claims she planned it. It wasn't until a little later on, when she leapt over a "huge crevasse" to make it back to safety, that her jeans (not rock climbing material) gave out. This left her with air conditioned jeans for the rest of her time in South America.The Adventurous
Three took a boat ride into the spray of the falls, crossing briefly from the tango waters to the salsa waters of Brazil. Unless you were wearing sunglasses, being drenched under a powerful waterfall means nothing except getting soaking wet and feeling like you were having a rather extreme cold shower. No chance of pictures either although you can, of course, buy the DVD of your ride for approximately a million dollars.The legend is that there was a young warrior who fell in love with a beautiful princess. They ran off togethe
r down the river. A particular god was so enraged at this that he caused the ground to fall away beneath them. She fell to her death, becoming a rock at the bottom of the falls (which is pretty hard to see), and he remained a tree at the top, to forever look down upon her and their broken love. Heart renching. The stuff legends are ....Anyway, the sheer volume of water that goes over the falls is unbelievable. The boardwalk out to Garganta Del Diablo takes you over calm waters with fish swimming lazily by. Within metres of the falls, the water picks up speed and thun
ders down around an 82m drop.
Each member of the group marveled at the fact that nobody knows what the bottom of the falls looks like. The Chinaman remarked that there could be a full orchestra down there and nobody would know. Thats right. The possibility of that must be pretty high, chino.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Tierra Santa
Disclaimer: This is not a ridicule of the Christian faith. It is a commentary on the execution of the park that is Tierra Santa (The Holy Land).
A religious theme park seemed too unbelievable and so while in Buenos Aires, we trio took the opportunity to check out just what the fuss was about. Apparently the resurrection of an 18m tall Christ Jesus was executed every half an hour. That sounded like something not to be missed.
We sold the idea to our 3 new Scottish friends and together we navigated the bus system of Buenos Aires. And what a bus it was. Mirrors on the ceiling, on the driver´s pedals and all sorts of imaginable tassels hanging above the driver.
Located beside the Buenos Aires domestic airport, our initial response to the park was one of disbelief. A giant landscape of red earth, fake palm trees, fake plastic full size animals and workers dressed in Middle Eastern garb, greeted us as we left the Hotel California bus. Together with several school groups, we were shepherded through a tunnel displaying various scenes from the bible. Once seated in the underground theatre, we witnessed the birth of Jesus - a show of lights and animated plastic representations of the people - all with Spanish commentary.
Adam and Eve again.
The Birth of Jesus
Perhaps the most memorable moment of the day happened early on in the piece. Cora emerged from a cave, unable to contain herself and warned us 'don't go in there!' with a delightfully heavy scottish accent. Of course we all wanted photos with what we found in the cave.
We were summoned from the cave by the trumpets heralding the resurrection of Jesus Christ. He sure was tall and the moving body parts had Vicki and Derek crossing their fingers for a rendition of the YMCA. Unfortunately not. After looking both ways, he raised his head, closed his eyes and the resurrection was over.
Vicki, Lucy and Cora in character
We managed to spend the entire day at the theme park. It was seriously lacking in rollar coasters and rides though. What could be better than the Heaven and Hell rollar coster which ends in a giant downward slope as you hurtle downwards from heaven? Or perhaps they could share bread with the audience during the Last Supper scene? What about a Noah's Ark log flume? Voted most inappropriate was the Birth of Jesus ride. It involved an entry, an exit and a slide. Nice one Lucy.
Adam and Eve.
Early on we viewed the Creation of the World complete with Enya soundtrack. Obviously its the most appropriate thing for Enya music. If all those who dis her only knew that God employed her to compose the soundtrack for the entire book of Genesis. Derek was reminded of the Dylan Moran skit that describes Enya's music as exactly what a vagina would sound like during the Vagina Monologues. Unfortunately he explained this story with a bit too much of an emphasis on the word vagina, just as the room went silent.
We lunched in the Baghdad Cafe, before catching the Last Supper, which was a little disappointing. There was no uncensored version of the events that really went on. The karaoke, the fortune cookies, the photos taken by Leonardo and Jesus giving Judy shit, "lighten up Judy!". Anyone who has seen Eddie Izzard's skit will appreciate Jesus doing the "big arms thing".
KFC at the Crucifixion
We walked past the Wailing Wall, past the Stations of the Cross and ended the day with one last viewing of the resurrection. It was almost too much to take. Especially when the music kicks in at a volume that almost drowned out the passing 737 that was landing.
Completely worth the 20 pesos. Go to.
A religious theme park seemed too unbelievable and so while in Buenos Aires, we trio took the opportunity to check out just what the fuss was about. Apparently the resurrection of an 18m tall Christ Jesus was executed every half an hour. That sounded like something not to be missed.
We sold the idea to our 3 new Scottish friends and together we navigated the bus system of Buenos Aires. And what a bus it was. Mirrors on the ceiling, on the driver´s pedals and all sorts of imaginable tassels hanging above the driver.
Located beside the Buenos Aires domestic airport, our initial response to the park was one of disbelief. A giant landscape of red earth, fake palm trees, fake plastic full size animals and workers dressed in Middle Eastern garb, greeted us as we left the Hotel California bus. Together with several school groups, we were shepherded through a tunnel displaying various scenes from the bible. Once seated in the underground theatre, we witnessed the birth of Jesus - a show of lights and animated plastic representations of the people - all with Spanish commentary.
Adam and Eve again.
The Birth of Jesus
Perhaps the most memorable moment of the day happened early on in the piece. Cora emerged from a cave, unable to contain herself and warned us 'don't go in there!' with a delightfully heavy scottish accent. Of course we all wanted photos with what we found in the cave.
We were summoned from the cave by the trumpets heralding the resurrection of Jesus Christ. He sure was tall and the moving body parts had Vicki and Derek crossing their fingers for a rendition of the YMCA. Unfortunately not. After looking both ways, he raised his head, closed his eyes and the resurrection was over.
Vicki, Lucy and Cora in character
We managed to spend the entire day at the theme park. It was seriously lacking in rollar coasters and rides though. What could be better than the Heaven and Hell rollar coster which ends in a giant downward slope as you hurtle downwards from heaven? Or perhaps they could share bread with the audience during the Last Supper scene? What about a Noah's Ark log flume? Voted most inappropriate was the Birth of Jesus ride. It involved an entry, an exit and a slide. Nice one Lucy.
Adam and Eve.
Early on we viewed the Creation of the World complete with Enya soundtrack. Obviously its the most appropriate thing for Enya music. If all those who dis her only knew that God employed her to compose the soundtrack for the entire book of Genesis. Derek was reminded of the Dylan Moran skit that describes Enya's music as exactly what a vagina would sound like during the Vagina Monologues. Unfortunately he explained this story with a bit too much of an emphasis on the word vagina, just as the room went silent.
We lunched in the Baghdad Cafe, before catching the Last Supper, which was a little disappointing. There was no uncensored version of the events that really went on. The karaoke, the fortune cookies, the photos taken by Leonardo and Jesus giving Judy shit, "lighten up Judy!". Anyone who has seen Eddie Izzard's skit will appreciate Jesus doing the "big arms thing".
KFC at the Crucifixion
We walked past the Wailing Wall, past the Stations of the Cross and ended the day with one last viewing of the resurrection. It was almost too much to take. Especially when the music kicks in at a volume that almost drowned out the passing 737 that was landing.
Completely worth the 20 pesos. Go to.
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Why the picture book idea is currently not employed.
We´ve been back in Buenos Aires for just over two weeks. Jane has arrived. Safely, even though it took her over 3 hours to get from the airport to the hostel.
We rented another apartment, this time in Palermo, with a 25m balcony. Yes. A 25m balcony of glory. Facing north as well, meaning the sun streamed in to dry our clothes washed in true backpacker style - in the sink.
Palermo is lovely with its tree lined streets and plazas galore. It houses my favourite cafe in Buenos Aires. An organic vegetarian cafe with divine smells emanating from it, $6.50NZ bottles of organic wine and blueberry juice. Set in a little patio area, the sweet sounds of someone tinkling on a piano flow down from the upstairs shuttered windows. The only good part of a terrible day shopping, Jane and I vowed to bring Derek back to this little gem.
Our waiter gave us a big grin as Jane and I sheepishly walked back into the cafe with Derek in tow, and sat at the same table we had the day before. Ordering a bottle of wine, a quinoa salad and a rather handsome pizza, Derek, Jane and I set about having a fantastic lunch. The waiteress came over twice to see that Derek was okay after he was unable to stop laughing for about 10 minutes. It wasn´t until I returned from the toilet that I noticed my bag - that had been sitting between Derek and I - wasn´t there. I wasn´t worried - Derek does things like hiding bags all the time, but unfortunately for me, I had become too relaxed about how close you really need your bag to be in order for it not to be stolen. Turns out there was a couple who sat down behind us, then decided not to order and left ... taking my bag with them, complete with my Canon baby and my ipod.
Here we were, three of us at the table, and the bag was stolen right from between two of us. Here we were, having good wholesome fun, feeding our minds and bodies with rich organic food, and some trashy couple has the nerve to take my bag. Not even young punks. People in their 50´s who target wholesome cafes. I wonder if they believe in Karma.
So we had our apartment for a week and now we are back at the hostel. Jane and I officially hate shopping as you can´t find anything when you want to, the air of Buenos Aires appears to be entirely made up of carbon monoxide and cigarrette smoke and clothes are starting to get a little tight with the constant supply of dulce de leche ... but I like Buenos Aires ... ¡Me gusta mucho Buenos Aires!
We rented another apartment, this time in Palermo, with a 25m balcony. Yes. A 25m balcony of glory. Facing north as well, meaning the sun streamed in to dry our clothes washed in true backpacker style - in the sink.
Palermo is lovely with its tree lined streets and plazas galore. It houses my favourite cafe in Buenos Aires. An organic vegetarian cafe with divine smells emanating from it, $6.50NZ bottles of organic wine and blueberry juice. Set in a little patio area, the sweet sounds of someone tinkling on a piano flow down from the upstairs shuttered windows. The only good part of a terrible day shopping, Jane and I vowed to bring Derek back to this little gem.
Our waiter gave us a big grin as Jane and I sheepishly walked back into the cafe with Derek in tow, and sat at the same table we had the day before. Ordering a bottle of wine, a quinoa salad and a rather handsome pizza, Derek, Jane and I set about having a fantastic lunch. The waiteress came over twice to see that Derek was okay after he was unable to stop laughing for about 10 minutes. It wasn´t until I returned from the toilet that I noticed my bag - that had been sitting between Derek and I - wasn´t there. I wasn´t worried - Derek does things like hiding bags all the time, but unfortunately for me, I had become too relaxed about how close you really need your bag to be in order for it not to be stolen. Turns out there was a couple who sat down behind us, then decided not to order and left ... taking my bag with them, complete with my Canon baby and my ipod.
Here we were, three of us at the table, and the bag was stolen right from between two of us. Here we were, having good wholesome fun, feeding our minds and bodies with rich organic food, and some trashy couple has the nerve to take my bag. Not even young punks. People in their 50´s who target wholesome cafes. I wonder if they believe in Karma.
So we had our apartment for a week and now we are back at the hostel. Jane and I officially hate shopping as you can´t find anything when you want to, the air of Buenos Aires appears to be entirely made up of carbon monoxide and cigarrette smoke and clothes are starting to get a little tight with the constant supply of dulce de leche ... but I like Buenos Aires ... ¡Me gusta mucho Buenos Aires!
Thats my dogs
Deciding to go back to Buenos Aires via the more scenic route, Derek and I found ourselves in Carmelo. The name sounded so good (cravings for Cadbury Caramello) but it lived up to its reputation of being sleepy.
We paid an exhorbitant price for a double room in a shitty hotel that came complete with a television that hummed annoyingly and a breakfast of stale toast, raro and coffee to rival the sewerage-like qualities of Nescafe. Seeing as we were the only people in the hotel, you think they could have done a little better. Oh well. This was Carmelo.
Under a concrete sky (yet again), Derek and I decided to make our way to the beach. We acquired a stray dog early on in the journey. A gorgeous caramel coloured male hound, he had half of his front paw missing and did this little skipping motion while he ran beside us. We crowned him 'hop-along'. Boy did he seem happy to be with us. He often cast his eyes endearingly over Derek and whimpered whenever the two of us walked more than three metres apart.
But in true South American style, we acquired two more hounds when we reached the beach, two hooligans out looking for trouble. They barked at everything that moved - bicycles, people, cars - only to lose interest once their target had moved on.
They attracted three more dogs and the pack became agitated with the introduction of a bitch that was clearly on heat. By this stage I was more on the panicky side of scared. The pack started fighting, knocking over a parked motorcycle in the process.
There was nowhere to go and nothing to offer protection from these dogs (no fences to jump over for those who remember the dog attack story of 2006).
Still, once they had sorted out who had first priority to smell the female dog´s arse, they calmed down. Hop-along left us (he was top of the smell list), and Derek and I made our way back to town. Unfortunately we couldn´t shake off the two hooligans. We tried to lose them but they were adament they were going to protect us from all moving objects and other stationary ones.
We arrived at the bridge at the edge of town and the dogs took off down the slope into the river. Sensing this could be our chance, we walked faster over the bridge .... only to be overtaken by the shaggy wet pooches half way across. Clearly they have a protocol to have a wash before entering the city. It wasn´t until five blocks later when they spotted another dog and went up to investigate. Derek grabbed me by the arm, and we slipped back around the corner we had just come from and ran to put as much distance between the hooligans and us.
We never saw them again, although it wouldn´t have surprised me if we had bumped into them around a corner. They would have welcomed us with wagging tails, flapping tongues and been ready to accompany us on any adventure Carmelo might throw at us.
Fortunately for us we left Carmelo before we died of boredom.
We paid an exhorbitant price for a double room in a shitty hotel that came complete with a television that hummed annoyingly and a breakfast of stale toast, raro and coffee to rival the sewerage-like qualities of Nescafe. Seeing as we were the only people in the hotel, you think they could have done a little better. Oh well. This was Carmelo.
Under a concrete sky (yet again), Derek and I decided to make our way to the beach. We acquired a stray dog early on in the journey. A gorgeous caramel coloured male hound, he had half of his front paw missing and did this little skipping motion while he ran beside us. We crowned him 'hop-along'. Boy did he seem happy to be with us. He often cast his eyes endearingly over Derek and whimpered whenever the two of us walked more than three metres apart.
But in true South American style, we acquired two more hounds when we reached the beach, two hooligans out looking for trouble. They barked at everything that moved - bicycles, people, cars - only to lose interest once their target had moved on.
They attracted three more dogs and the pack became agitated with the introduction of a bitch that was clearly on heat. By this stage I was more on the panicky side of scared. The pack started fighting, knocking over a parked motorcycle in the process.
There was nowhere to go and nothing to offer protection from these dogs (no fences to jump over for those who remember the dog attack story of 2006).
Still, once they had sorted out who had first priority to smell the female dog´s arse, they calmed down. Hop-along left us (he was top of the smell list), and Derek and I made our way back to town. Unfortunately we couldn´t shake off the two hooligans. We tried to lose them but they were adament they were going to protect us from all moving objects and other stationary ones.
We arrived at the bridge at the edge of town and the dogs took off down the slope into the river. Sensing this could be our chance, we walked faster over the bridge .... only to be overtaken by the shaggy wet pooches half way across. Clearly they have a protocol to have a wash before entering the city. It wasn´t until five blocks later when they spotted another dog and went up to investigate. Derek grabbed me by the arm, and we slipped back around the corner we had just come from and ran to put as much distance between the hooligans and us.
We never saw them again, although it wouldn´t have surprised me if we had bumped into them around a corner. They would have welcomed us with wagging tails, flapping tongues and been ready to accompany us on any adventure Carmelo might throw at us.
Fortunately for us we left Carmelo before we died of boredom.
Saturday, August 09, 2008
Uruguay
So we decided to get out of Buenos Aires for awhile and add another country to my list of 'Countries I've Visited' (which is currently pretty small).
We travelled by boat (complete with in-float entertainment of dancers with costumes that barely held onto their tanned bodies) to Colonia in Uruguay.
Colonia is a quaint little town on the Southern/South West coast of Uruguay. It has plenty of history in its cobblestone streets, little houses with old lantern street lights out front and museums that were open at odd hours.
Derek suggested we bike around the town seeing as it was so small. Great idea except that a) we had to ride on the other side of the road, b) I can't look over my left shoulder terribly well and c) I'm not sure there are any road rules in Uruguay. I can't figure out who has right of way when.
But with persistance, I got on the rattly old bike and took off down the street, following at a great distance behind Derek - those of you who know me well, know I have negative fitness level and probably because I kept getting off the bike to cross the road. We followed the coast, complete with concrete sky and upside down Rio De La Plata views. Upon returning (ever so slowly, as my arse was hurting by this time) to the town, we rode towards the old part of the city. It was on this small journey that I had my near death experience with a golf cart.
Yes.
A golf cart.
See, upon reaching the cross roads, it became clear that neither she nor I knew who had right of way. She revved that golf cart's engine until she was doing at least 3 km an hour and I had to swerve around her, defying death by the slimmest of margins.
I may be elaborating.
We have spent time in Montevideo - a city the size of Auckland that has the most odd mix of architecture. We took a bike ride (again - I'm getting good at this) along the waterfront, where the Rio De La Plata was still brown. The sky had finally cleared up to the blue but the highrise buildings along the front of the beaches did nothing remotely picturesque. I think Derek took pictures of the clouds instead.
Montevideo can be summed up by two things - Vdub Beetles (there are scores of them here) and caballos de basuras (in terrible spanish) or Rubbish horses. Horses with carts that clip clop around the streets while their drivers collect the rubbish.
I sit now in Punta Del Diablo - a small fishing/surfing village which is as cool as the name sounds. Derek and I are one of 7 tourists currently in the town. It has a population of about 700 right now - although I haven't seen much proof of this - which sky rockets to thousands during summer. Progress is evident as there are at least 25 "houses" being built around this hostel. It's growing as the out of towners hook into this grand little place hidden in the sand dunes. During winter (ie now) there is nothing open. Two restaurants out of the 10 we've seen, the supermarket is shut down, you can't go horse riding or hire bikes. Pretty much there is nothing to do but play in the sand dunes, read and watch the Atlantic Ocean. Our first jaunt to the beach rewarded us with the view of two pods of 4 - 7 dolphins and 1 seal swim along the shore line.
Our dinner last night was served to us by Ernesto - the owner, chef, musician of El Viejo y El Mar. This is a unique restaurant. The dog (Papita) sits by your table all night (alternating between who has the most food on their plate) and the walls are covered by memorabilia from past customers. Ernesto has been there for five years, serving fresh fish, interacting with his customers and relating funny stories about how busy it gets during summer. He even sings a couple of tracks on the cd that is playing through the speakers. The wine is specially made for his restaurant, complete with grainy black and white label with him and Papita on it. We spent 4 hours there last night, stoking the fire, patting Papita and eating. It seemed strange to have to pay after feeling like guests in a house.
Apologies for lack of photos. They are on their way. This country has too many interesting things to not put up photos.
We travelled by boat (complete with in-float entertainment of dancers with costumes that barely held onto their tanned bodies) to Colonia in Uruguay.
Colonia is a quaint little town on the Southern/South West coast of Uruguay. It has plenty of history in its cobblestone streets, little houses with old lantern street lights out front and museums that were open at odd hours.
Derek suggested we bike around the town seeing as it was so small. Great idea except that a) we had to ride on the other side of the road, b) I can't look over my left shoulder terribly well and c) I'm not sure there are any road rules in Uruguay. I can't figure out who has right of way when.
But with persistance, I got on the rattly old bike and took off down the street, following at a great distance behind Derek - those of you who know me well, know I have negative fitness level and probably because I kept getting off the bike to cross the road. We followed the coast, complete with concrete sky and upside down Rio De La Plata views. Upon returning (ever so slowly, as my arse was hurting by this time) to the town, we rode towards the old part of the city. It was on this small journey that I had my near death experience with a golf cart.
Yes.
A golf cart.
See, upon reaching the cross roads, it became clear that neither she nor I knew who had right of way. She revved that golf cart's engine until she was doing at least 3 km an hour and I had to swerve around her, defying death by the slimmest of margins.
I may be elaborating.
We have spent time in Montevideo - a city the size of Auckland that has the most odd mix of architecture. We took a bike ride (again - I'm getting good at this) along the waterfront, where the Rio De La Plata was still brown. The sky had finally cleared up to the blue but the highrise buildings along the front of the beaches did nothing remotely picturesque. I think Derek took pictures of the clouds instead.
Montevideo can be summed up by two things - Vdub Beetles (there are scores of them here) and caballos de basuras (in terrible spanish) or Rubbish horses. Horses with carts that clip clop around the streets while their drivers collect the rubbish.
I sit now in Punta Del Diablo - a small fishing/surfing village which is as cool as the name sounds. Derek and I are one of 7 tourists currently in the town. It has a population of about 700 right now - although I haven't seen much proof of this - which sky rockets to thousands during summer. Progress is evident as there are at least 25 "houses" being built around this hostel. It's growing as the out of towners hook into this grand little place hidden in the sand dunes. During winter (ie now) there is nothing open. Two restaurants out of the 10 we've seen, the supermarket is shut down, you can't go horse riding or hire bikes. Pretty much there is nothing to do but play in the sand dunes, read and watch the Atlantic Ocean. Our first jaunt to the beach rewarded us with the view of two pods of 4 - 7 dolphins and 1 seal swim along the shore line.
Our dinner last night was served to us by Ernesto - the owner, chef, musician of El Viejo y El Mar. This is a unique restaurant. The dog (Papita) sits by your table all night (alternating between who has the most food on their plate) and the walls are covered by memorabilia from past customers. Ernesto has been there for five years, serving fresh fish, interacting with his customers and relating funny stories about how busy it gets during summer. He even sings a couple of tracks on the cd that is playing through the speakers. The wine is specially made for his restaurant, complete with grainy black and white label with him and Papita on it. We spent 4 hours there last night, stoking the fire, patting Papita and eating. It seemed strange to have to pay after feeling like guests in a house.
Apologies for lack of photos. They are on their way. This country has too many interesting things to not put up photos.
Sunday, August 03, 2008
Buenos Aires
Buenos Aires.
It smells of bus fumes, car fumes, urine, dog shit, roast meat and peanuts cooking in sugar.
It looks of dog walkers surrounded by at least 10 dogs, yellow and black taxis, old buses, wrought iron balconies, shuttered windows, grey oppressive skies (mostly so far), Quilmes signs,
Its sound is loud. The buzzing of door entries. The roar of the buses has no where to dissapate because of the tall buildings. The same words yelled at you every 50 m on the street: señora, cambio, leather, comida. Everyone drives fast. While simultaneously sounding their horns.
My biggest fear so far has been about being killed by a bus while standing on the sidewalk. They drive that close.
I like it.
It smells of bus fumes, car fumes, urine, dog shit, roast meat and peanuts cooking in sugar.
It looks of dog walkers surrounded by at least 10 dogs, yellow and black taxis, old buses, wrought iron balconies, shuttered windows, grey oppressive skies (mostly so far), Quilmes signs,
Its sound is loud. The buzzing of door entries. The roar of the buses has no where to dissapate because of the tall buildings. The same words yelled at you every 50 m on the street: señora, cambio, leather, comida. Everyone drives fast. While simultaneously sounding their horns.
My biggest fear so far has been about being killed by a bus while standing on the sidewalk. They drive that close.
I like it.
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Buenos Aires
I arrived. I almost didn´t. Qantarse delayed my Chch - Akld flight by an hour, leaving my new found friend and I exactly 10 minutes to run from Domestic to International, through Immigration and down to the furtherest gate to make the flight. We had 2 minutes to spare. I´ve never run so fast in my life. The crew laughed at me when I couldn´t speak to give them my ticket because I was so breathless.
Santiago lived up to it´s smoggy reputation. Apparentely you can see the Andes from the airport. (photos to come)
Buenos Aires is beautiful and dingy. It too has smog problems, but its been sunny and oh so wintery. Well if you can call wintery 22 degree heat at 9pm and todays high of 16 degrees. So much for cold and rainy.
The driving is interesting in BA. My taxi driver (who kindly suffered my attempts at a spanish conversation) drove at 120kmph on the motorway, and if someone got in his lane, would pull up right behind them and flash his lights. They ever so kindly moved out the way immediately. And there aren´t always lanes painted on the smaller streets. The lanes vary from 2 -3 depending on the driver´s degree of confidence. My driver was pretty confident. Oh and swerving between ´lanes´ is perfectly acceptable too.
Upon arrival my apartment lady hadn´t arrived so the security guard let me sit with him. He could say Hello and Good night in English. That was it. Through a variety of sign and broken spanish, we had a lovely 20 minute conversation. Most of it was spent laughing.
Our apartment is great, if not a little noisy with traffic. Spanish Cable tv is hilarious as they are mostly English shows with Spanish subtitles. I´ve already watched four episodes of Doctor House (said in a strong spanish accent).
I have photos but I´m yet to figure out where the usb drive is on these shop computers. So I´ll have to put them up at a later date.
Adios!
Santiago lived up to it´s smoggy reputation. Apparentely you can see the Andes from the airport. (photos to come)
Buenos Aires is beautiful and dingy. It too has smog problems, but its been sunny and oh so wintery. Well if you can call wintery 22 degree heat at 9pm and todays high of 16 degrees. So much for cold and rainy.
The driving is interesting in BA. My taxi driver (who kindly suffered my attempts at a spanish conversation) drove at 120kmph on the motorway, and if someone got in his lane, would pull up right behind them and flash his lights. They ever so kindly moved out the way immediately. And there aren´t always lanes painted on the smaller streets. The lanes vary from 2 -3 depending on the driver´s degree of confidence. My driver was pretty confident. Oh and swerving between ´lanes´ is perfectly acceptable too.
Upon arrival my apartment lady hadn´t arrived so the security guard let me sit with him. He could say Hello and Good night in English. That was it. Through a variety of sign and broken spanish, we had a lovely 20 minute conversation. Most of it was spent laughing.
Our apartment is great, if not a little noisy with traffic. Spanish Cable tv is hilarious as they are mostly English shows with Spanish subtitles. I´ve already watched four episodes of Doctor House (said in a strong spanish accent).
I have photos but I´m yet to figure out where the usb drive is on these shop computers. So I´ll have to put them up at a later date.
Adios!
Friday, July 04, 2008
Saying Goodbye
It isn't until you're leaving that you realise the impact people have on your life - work colleagues especially. It's a good way of learning how important people are to you and how special you are to them.
The presents are embarrassing but always appreciated. The home made cards are special and to be treasured. Saying farewell to children that you aren't sure if they've completely understood the concept is always heartbreaking when they initiate kissing you goodbye.
It's certainly a very special group of women that I work with. I could think of no one else who would sing a rousing rendition of 'My Body Makes Music' (actions included I believe) at the tops of their voices in a downtown restaurant just to cheer me up as I was overcome by tears of leaving.
Sure beat the lame 'Happy Birthday' song the table next to us had.
The presents are embarrassing but always appreciated. The home made cards are special and to be treasured. Saying farewell to children that you aren't sure if they've completely understood the concept is always heartbreaking when they initiate kissing you goodbye.
It's certainly a very special group of women that I work with. I could think of no one else who would sing a rousing rendition of 'My Body Makes Music' (actions included I believe) at the tops of their voices in a downtown restaurant just to cheer me up as I was overcome by tears of leaving.
Sure beat the lame 'Happy Birthday' song the table next to us had.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
27 sleeps
And the room is in chaos. Why is it that we decide we want to hoard so much sentimental stuff while flatting, when we know that one day, the decision has to be made to throw it out?
I am making the most of living in Newtown. Anything I don't want, I leave on the footpath and it's gone in a matter of hours. Like "they" (specialists, researchers and other meaningful nobodies) say,
One man's rubbish is another man's treasure.
Amen to that.
I am making the most of living in Newtown. Anything I don't want, I leave on the footpath and it's gone in a matter of hours. Like "they" (specialists, researchers and other meaningful nobodies) say,
One man's rubbish is another man's treasure.
Amen to that.
Monday, May 19, 2008
8 weeks to go
So the blog is going to get a revival.
In little over 8 weeks I'll be on my way to Argentina. And lord knows I'll be too useless to write letters and postcards to everyone. So I'll update this periodically with stories from Team On-the-Road-Argentina. It'll be decorated with photographs so those who prefer picture books can enjoy as well.
xx
In little over 8 weeks I'll be on my way to Argentina. And lord knows I'll be too useless to write letters and postcards to everyone. So I'll update this periodically with stories from Team On-the-Road-Argentina. It'll be decorated with photographs so those who prefer picture books can enjoy as well.
xx
Thursday, March 13, 2008
A Music Therapy Candidate?
If you think I can be difficult and defensive about my favourite bands, read on ...
A woman snapped and stabbed her partner to death after he objected to her listening to Bruce Springsteen music, an Australian court has been told.
The Supreme Court in Brisbane today heard Karen Lee Cooper, 50, used a long-bladed kitchen knife to stab 49-year-old Kevin Watson once in the chest because she "just got tired" of him bossing her around.
She pleaded guilty today to manslaughter and was sentenced to eight years jail.
The court was told the pair had been drinking at their rented home at Cedar Vale, south of Brisbane, on July 8, 2006, when an argument broke out over Cooper's choice of music.
Defence lawyer Greg Maguire said Cooper experienced a "brain snap" and ran to the kitchen and grabbed a knife, which she used to stab Mr Watson after he said he didn't want to listen to a Bruce Springsteen CD.
"I mean, who the hell doesn't like Bruce Springsteen, for God's sake?" she later told arresting police. "I just picked up a knife and I went 'boom'."
The knife pierced Mr Watson's aorta and oesophagus, and he died at the scene.
The court was told Cooper dialled triple-0 and requested an ambulance before taking a handful of painkillers.
She later told police she had hoped the pills would kill her before they arrived.
The court was told she regretted stabbing her partner, and that she believed he didn't deserve to die.
Cooper has already served 613 days in custody.
A woman snapped and stabbed her partner to death after he objected to her listening to Bruce Springsteen music, an Australian court has been told.
The Supreme Court in Brisbane today heard Karen Lee Cooper, 50, used a long-bladed kitchen knife to stab 49-year-old Kevin Watson once in the chest because she "just got tired" of him bossing her around.
She pleaded guilty today to manslaughter and was sentenced to eight years jail.
The court was told the pair had been drinking at their rented home at Cedar Vale, south of Brisbane, on July 8, 2006, when an argument broke out over Cooper's choice of music.
Defence lawyer Greg Maguire said Cooper experienced a "brain snap" and ran to the kitchen and grabbed a knife, which she used to stab Mr Watson after he said he didn't want to listen to a Bruce Springsteen CD.
"I mean, who the hell doesn't like Bruce Springsteen, for God's sake?" she later told arresting police. "I just picked up a knife and I went 'boom'."
The knife pierced Mr Watson's aorta and oesophagus, and he died at the scene.
The court was told Cooper dialled triple-0 and requested an ambulance before taking a handful of painkillers.
She later told police she had hoped the pills would kill her before they arrived.
The court was told she regretted stabbing her partner, and that she believed he didn't deserve to die.
Cooper has already served 613 days in custody.
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
Worst Album Cover
I can't even begin to comprehend the message she is trying to express through her music.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Argentina
One Spanish 101 paper,
One and half years of Tango,
Two Community Adult Introductory Spanish courses and
Three years of talking about it.
FINALLY,
I'm going to Argentina.
One and half years of Tango,
Two Community Adult Introductory Spanish courses and
Three years of talking about it.
FINALLY,
I'm going to Argentina.
Friday, February 08, 2008
Wellytown
Sometimes New Zealand has a summer.
And this post is for all those (besides those of us in San Diego who have forgotten what rain looks like) who are living in London or abroad and thinking New Zealand is having one of "those" summers again.
Think again my friends.
This is one of those summers from your primary school, which stretched out endlessly with blue cloudless days.
It's warm enough to go to the beach and stay there awhile. And what would a trip to the beach be without extra large hats, wine, stupid photos and hideous sunglasses - $2 purple sunglasses that take you back to the 70's.
Eat your heart out.
And of course, swimming in the New Zealand summer ocean. Filled with great things like penguins who occasionally swim past you and jellyfish spawn. Swimming in jellyfish is always interesting. If the sea were red, it would be kinda like swimming in not quite set raspberry jelly .. or so I assume.
And this post is for all those (besides those of us in San Diego who have forgotten what rain looks like) who are living in London or abroad and thinking New Zealand is having one of "those" summers again.
Think again my friends.
This is one of those summers from your primary school, which stretched out endlessly with blue cloudless days.
It's warm enough to go to the beach and stay there awhile. And what would a trip to the beach be without extra large hats, wine, stupid photos and hideous sunglasses - $2 purple sunglasses that take you back to the 70's.
Eat your heart out.
And of course, swimming in the New Zealand summer ocean. Filled with great things like penguins who occasionally swim past you and jellyfish spawn. Swimming in jellyfish is always interesting. If the sea were red, it would be kinda like swimming in not quite set raspberry jelly .. or so I assume.
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