14th December

Ian left at 4am. I have to say (as I know he is reading this) that he is one of the most genuine people I have met. He is the bloke that would win Big Brother every time - funny, clever, sporty. I'll stop now, sound gay. Farewell and good luck with the Boobies in the Galapagos!

Had final breakfast with Jon and Sarah who were stressed having lost their room key. We said good-bye after a cheeky ham and cheese toasty. That's it now, just me left.

I have an itinerary for the day, first stop El Museo de Bellas Artes. Very impressive building set in a tree-lined avenue but sadly the modern art didn't live up to the exterior. The worst exhibition was "a tribute to Picasso" - poor bloke would have turned in his grave! The highlight of the museum was a collection of Robert Frank photos - very impressive and food for thought when I go to NY later this month.

Popped into the Post Office, well queued for an hour, to send parcel 3 of 3 back to the UK. This includes the sleeping bag. Had a bit of a mental block when filling in the customers form which backfired on me in truly embarrassing fashion...

(At this point I have filled in a long list of the contents of my parcel until I reach sleeping bag. What the hell is "sleeping bag in Spanish". I'll just put "tent" as I am guessing the cashier won't speak English.)

Cashier: "What is the value of your tent?"
Steve: "Tent?"
Cashier: "Yes, the one you are posting"
Steve: "Oh, that tent. Nothing"
Cashier: "Nothing? Zero pesos?"
Steve: "Yes, it is broken"
Cashier: "So why are you posting it"
Steve: "Err, sentimental value"
Cashier: "What is broken?"
Steve: "The tent in its entirety" (really struggling on the vocab at this point)
Cashier: "It must be a special tent"
Steve: "I have to catch a plane"

There is only one way to combat the prickly heat and moist armpits after such a trauma - coffee with legs. Had a chat with one of the girls this time. Luckily it wasn't about tents.

Got back to the hotel, had a glass of Torrontes and sat by the pool.

Dinner was back in the Indian restaurant. The third time sadly not as enjoyable as the last two. I have gone from a table for eight to a table for four and depressingly tonight I had a table for two. Myself and Lynda La Plante. Decided on the non-piquante sauce due to tomorrow's killer flights up north. Ordered cab for 4.30 and went off to bed.