snowed in ...

First stop over the border into Colorado was the old mining town of Silverton.

Located in a secluded valley over 9,000 feet high in the mountains and surrounded by snow-capped peaks, winter was still in evidence here with snow reaching the upper storeys of some buildings as we explored the historic town.

It was here that we discovered that it is not only Bolivia where you can get a high altitude hangover. Of course it wasn't really our fault - the only place open after 7pm was the local tavern.

In fact, the following morning's hangover was so bad I had to continually fight the urge to stop and bury my head in the snow drifts for relief. But despite the headaches our drive through the stunning Red Canyon was fantastic with superb far reaching views and 12-foot long icicles hanging by the side of the road.

It wasn't until lunchtime the following day that we reached Rocky Mountains National Park in the north of Colorado.

After stocking up on supplies at the local store we found a cabin for the evening just as a snowstorm was beginning to hit. By 6pm there was already 3 inches of snow on the ground and the temperature had fallen to -4C, but it takes more than that to stop us making full use of the hot tub - the contrast in temperatures was invigorating.

Especially the walk to and from the cabin in flip-flops.

We're having such a good time here that we've abandoned our plans to visit Boulder in favour of another two nights in the cabin.

Driving around the National Park by day offers some unbeatable views, but we've discovered that the wildlife around our cabin is just as plentiful as in the protected area. Every day we've seen scores of ground squirrels and deer, and even a coyote hanging around this morning.

truth or consequences ...

If we hadn't already known Texas is the "bible belt" of the US, we'd have worked it out pretty quickly arriving in El Paso.

As I went in search of the indoor pool I stumbled across an audience of several hundred in one of the hotels atriums. Some kind of religious conference was in full swing, with loud clapping and cheering at every other sentence.

In the process of collecting our hire car we discovered there are two kinds of clientelle at the airport here, groups of teenagers wearing a uniform of bible camp t-shirts, or military types from the nearby Fort Bliss sporting crew cuts and combats.

It struck me just how easily religion and the machinery of war sit side by side here - yet somehow we never seem to hear much about the dangers of Christian fundamentalism in the media.

Driving into New Mexico our first stop was the unusually named town of Truth or Consequences, who intially won their name on a radio show - you can read more about that here. After spending the night in a refurbished 1950's motel we hit the hot springs, enjoying a private pool along the banks of the Rio Grande overlooking turtleback mountain.

Food in Mexico tends to be quite different from the Mexican food we enjoy at home, which is probably more accurately described as Tex-Mex (i.e the americanised version) and to my taste at least far nicer.

Here of course they prefer to use the term New Mexican.

Continuing the drive north we stopped at a diner in Albuquerque for lunch where I had the nicest burrito I'm ever likely to taste (stuffed with chilli con carne and refried beans, topped with loads of cheese, guacamole and sour cream) - hardly diet food, but then again we are on holiday - which has been the universal excuse for pretty much everything over the last 50 weeks.

Our final stop in New Mexico was the town of Santa Fe in the high desert, characterised by it's trademark adobe buildings. To be honest, it all seemed a bit manufactured - even the town carpark (below) got the same treatment ...

friends reunited ...

There is a temptation to think of everywhere in Central and South America as being fairly close together. Not so.

The final leg of our journey began by taking the 10 hour flight from Buenos Aires to Mexico City, which is actually the same distance as travelling from the north coast of Ireland to Botswana.

I know this because Mel's Dad, Robert, worked it out for us.

Using the trusted method of measuring out the distance on his map between forefinger and thumb, then making an arc out from Ballycastle to identify destinations of the same distance from his home. Hardly scientific, but pretty accurate all the same I reckon.

Leaving the capital we headed up to Los Mochis for the classic Copper Canyon Train to Chihuahua (above). The ride of 16 hours took us through stunning scenery, clinging to the edge of steep canyons and traversing single guage bridges over numerous lakes, rivers and valleys.

However, the fantastic train ride was quickly forgotten though as we discovered the state of our hotel in Chihuahua - the worst part being that our arrival in the middle of the night didn't really give us the option of taking our business elsewhere.

I'll spare you the goriest of the details, but Mel was forced into wearing flip flops due to a sudden onset of carpet-phobia and our shower curtain rail was partially constructed using a bar of soap. You get the idea.

Classic rail journeys are one thing, but perhaps even better our brief return to Mexico gave us the chance to catch up with a few old amigos.

Victoria, Montejo, Tecate and of course, Modelo Especial (below).

Still reigning numero uno in the beer league.

Those of you paying really close attention will have noticed this is in fact an export bottle of Modelo.

I forgot while actually in Mexico, but it wasn't to hard to pick up a six-pack as we crossed the border into the Texas.

More on that next time ...

one last tango ...

Suddenly we found ourselves with just a few short days to cram in everything we had promised to do during our month in Buenos Aires.

Perhaps the biggest highlight of our final weekend was taking in a Tango Show in Bar Sur, an atmospheric bar situated on a cobbled backstreet in our neighbourhood of San Telmo with just a dozen tiny tables pushed back against the walls to make space for the musicians and dancers.

Our evenings entertainment was a 2 hour repetoire of tango standards on piano, violin, guitar and accordion - accompanied by the occasional ageing crooner it matched the historic surroundings of the bar (and of course a bottle of bubbly).

Of course the highlight of the show were the professional dancers, with the characteristic between-the-legs kicks of the ladies in 4-inch heels seeming to pass perilously close to the male dancers unmentionables. The show was made all the more impressive for the extreme lack of floorspace and it required inch-perfect coordination to avoid accidents of all types.

One more Boca Juniors game, a final steak and we were ready to close the door for the last time on our apartment in San Telmo.

I can only think of one last word to adequately describe our time here.

Awesome.

I also had a final opportunity to raid the Argentine beer cellar for last minute additions to the league and came up with another five, one in particular the simply outstanding Palermo at 90%.

I only ever saw it in our local supermarket, but due to mistaking the label for a wheat beer I didn't try it until the final few days. Just goes to show that appearances can be deceiving!

Recycled in Buenos Aires ...

The financial crisis in 2002 left a lot of Argentines out of work, but like every cloud it had a silver lining.

Or in this case, green.

Granted it's little to compensate for the huge-dirty-great-black cloud that is financial collapse, but I doubt whether the cities recycling has ever been in better shape.

As businesses and housholds put their rubbish out every evening, thousands of unofficial recyclers descend on the city centre to sift through the days waste before the refuse collection lorries make their rounds. Cardboard seems to be the major prize on offer here - so much so that they even have a special name for the people that collect it.

Meet the Cartoneros.

Even in the so-called developed world it's fairly common to see the poor and homeless collecting aluminium cans for recycling (in Cambodia we even had kids following us, waiting to collect cans we were mid-way through drinking), but what really impresses here is the collective effort.

Households actually take the trouble to separate out the rubbish that has value (cans, carboard etc.) to make it easier for the recyclers to deal with. I'm not sure which is the biggest motivator, green tendencies, human empathy or just attempts to keep the street clean - either way the effect is great recycling.

I may not have joined the ranks of the Cartoneros, but you'll be pleased to know I'm doing my bit too. Not only do we pre-sort the rubbish from our apartment, but I've been recycling tremendous quantities of glass bottles almost every day over the past month. Beer bottles of course.

The deposit of $1.50 (pesos) on a litre bottle is over half the cost of the actual beer ($2.70) - thus ensuring almost every bottle in the city gets returned to the brewery for refilling. Our local supermarket even reuses the plastic bag you bring the empties back with for the full ones.

I think the current bag has made about 25 trips now ...


My guide to using the Guia T has just been published over on Day 12, where my blog is also featured this month ...