Coming from Bolivia – the poorest country in South America, to Chile – the richest, and the town of San Pedro de Atacama (the biggest tourist trap in the country) sure was a big contrast. As we crossed the border we went from driving on no roads in crappy busses and cars, to driving on the most perfectly paved roads, litterally 50 meters from the border crossing.

San Pedro is a tiny dessert town of about 2000 people and about 3 times as may tourists. The town itself doesnt have many attractions but the surrounding area has many of the same natural wonders Id just witnessed in Bolivia.

The day we arrived happened to be Chiles Independence day and there was a big party going on for several days. I joined the Chileans from our group and had a fun night partying in an open air disco/restaurant with a camp fire in the middle.

I cant say I have been a huge fan of the Boivian cuisine, its not bad, just decent and cheap. In San pedro that all changed, with the juiciest stakes and even juicier prices.

Getting out of San Perdro and in to Argentina as was my plan, proved not to be as easy as Id thought – the next bus was leaving in three days. So I had to hang around trying not to spend to much money, which meant not doing much. I did try one fun activity though, when an Irish guy and a girl and I rented mountainbikes and went sandborading.

We had to pass through the valley of the moon and Death valley before arriving at an enormous sand dune in the Atacamas dessert.

Sandboarding turned out to be easier than it looked and a lot of fun.

Eventualy it was time for my departure to Salta Argentina. A really nice city the size of Oslo in northern Argentina. Driving there, the surroundings were scattered with Gaucho farms and the scenery reminded me of old western movies. I met an American girl on the bus and went to the hostel she had booked. We there ended up sharing a room with another american girl for a few days. The first night in Salta we went to a Peña that had live local music, and I had the best and juiciest steak of my entire life for USD 7. The rumours are true, the steakes in this country are absolutely fantastic and I instantly decided to up my food budget for Argentina.

In Salta I finally had the chance to experience white water rafting on a nearby river. The rapids werent crazy, with maksimum rapids of 3 on the scale but it was a fun introduction, considering I was almost killed doing tubing in too tough waters in Venezuela. The landscape surrounding the river was also spectacular. The continental plates can actualy be seen standing vertically, having been pushed up over the millenia and the walls surrounding the river are covered in giant fosils of algae painted in surreal colors from differet mineral deposits.

Crossing the continent from the pacific side to the atlantic, I had decided to pass quickly through Paraguay – an unlikely tourist destination. I made my way to the border via some tiny Argentinian towns, and was let off on a stretch of road in a town I wouldnt even call a town. I tried asking for buses to the border (my guide book had no info on this place) but the usual border town conspiracy of everyone knowing everyone, and everyone knowing youre a gringo without information, meant the local taxi driver quoted me a ridiculous price, and, when I tried to protest he just shrugged his shoulders (latin style, Ive aquired this skill myself now by the way) – which meant: are you going to the border, or staying here in no mans land. The answer was obvious, and a little later a happy taxi driver let an annoyed backpacker off at the border crossing.

I then shared a taxi with a local guy in to the capital of Paraguay, Asuncion.

Although a city of one million people, it still has a distinct small town feel in the city centre. I got a hotell right on one of the main park squares, which had been turned into a shanty town, and probably housed hundreds of people, living in homemade tents made of garbage bags. I went on a recomended walking tour of the centre, which was over in about 20 minutes, and left the following morning without seeing a single tourist.

My next stop would be one of the highlights of South American tourist destinations – Iguazu falls. Before heading there however, I had decided to make a quick stop in the Paraguayan border town of Ciudad del Este. This small town is not on most travelers itinererary. But a city known as the most corrupt town in South america, and which a book I read a few years ago described as the place where international terrorism and international organized crime meets, is an irresistable attraction to any huge fan of mafia books and movies.

So, getting in to the terminal, I hopped on a local bus – one of the worst Ive seen in this continent – into town. It turned out I had already seen the city centre, but, it beeing so small, I assumed there would be more. I therefore remained on the bus for about 45 minutes as we ventured further and further into more and more dodgier areas of the citys outskirts. Then the amazing thing happens, out of the blue, a bullet comes flying through the front windshield, missing the bus driver and passing straight through the bus down the centre aisle. I wanted to see this place for a reason, and it turned out I here got more than Id bargained for. I now wanted to just remain on the bus, assuming it would return to the terminal, but I was not to be so lucky. About 5 minutes after the shooting, the bus came to a stop and the bus driver told me this was the end, and, there were no other buses or taxis in sight, as I was way out in a rather deserted neighbourhood with no street lights, and it had just gotten dark. A big guy with a limp and a big shot gun came over and talked to me for a while and I eventually understood what the bus driver had been trying to tell me. If I waited for about a half an hour, he would give me a lift in his pick-up truck, into town. I was very happy with this solution, waited, then stopped by his friends house where we delivered a used refrigerator before he let me off in town. I then jumped straight in a taxi for the border, and soon after was let off at a hotel that was fully booked, in the Brazilian resort city of Foz de Iguazu.

I walked around for about 30 minutes with my backpacks, but every hotel was either fully booked, or really expensive. Eventually i settled for a 30 $ a night hotel, turned my TV on and had a shower. Then three 18-year old girls whod seen me in reception checking in called me, came to my room and we went for a walk, and I was given my first lessons in Portuguese, via my now semi-functional Spanish.

The following day I went to the Brazilian side of the falls which were amazingly beatifull.

It made me think what people who discover a place like this must think. Im thinking religious thoughts (ok, not really), because the sight is just to beatifull to be made by nature. Later in the day I crossed into Argentina and the much nicer little town of Puerto Iguazu, and the following day went to the Argentinian side of the falls – which were, if you can believe it, even more spectacular. I went on a boat trip into one of the falls getting soaking wet, and went to the best viewing point, litterally in the Devils throat, the biggest fall of them all.

I then hopped on a bus to the nice little imigrant town of Posadas. I stayed for two days and went for a day trip across the border to Paraguay to see the ruins of one of the biggest Jesuit mission stations, at Trinidad, one of the least visited Unesco sites in the world.

Getting to the mission station was hard enough, via local buses that let me off on a deserted highway. The only real clue to where the misson was, was a sign to a hotel Missiones. This was right, and I strolled around with the site to myself listening to the theme music from the movie the Misson which I incidentally had on my mp3-player. Getting back would proove even harder, as I had to sit by the highway for 2 hours before a bus finally came by, heading for the border town of Encarnación. Moving a distance of around 60 kilometers, and seing the sight for about an hour actually took me around 10 hours, makes you wonder why not more people visit.

It was then time for Buenos Aires, a city I was looking forward to seeing. I checked in to a great hostel, had no idea how long i was staying, but in the end ended up staying about two weeks, and changing rooms 6 times because of my inability to decide and make a reservation.

I met a great group of people and checked out the legendary night life of the city

which was great although it mainly had electronic music, which Im not a big fan of. My first Sunday in BA the superclasico was being played, Boca vs River, one of the biggest derby matches in world football. We went to River stadium and were seated in the section next to the Boca fans.

Underneath the Boca fans were a big faction of River fans, and when river were up 2-0 well in to the second half, the Boca fans went crazy, ripping off about 500 seats and throwing them down on the fleeing river fans. An absolutely amazing football experience.

I also went on a city tour, saw the veranda where Evita famously stood,

and lived right next to the famous Obelisk landmark.

I decided to stay for another match the following sunday, when Argentina was playing Chile. There is a great rivalry between these two countries, and again we were in a great position to see it. We were seated at the back of the Argentina section, with the Chile fans seated 3 meters above and behind us, a great place to witess some of the most creative personal abuse Ive ever heard in a football stadium.

In additon, seing Lionel Messi play live in Bueons Aires is something Ill never forget, it really wouldnt surprise me if 15 years from now he’ll be near the legendary status bestowed upon Diego Maradona, and I saw him help beat Chile 2-0 in a fantastic match with goals from two Riquelme free kicks.

On my first walking trip I decided to head over to the Boca area of the city, this is the working class area and its strongly recomended to stick strictly to the main tourist street – the camineta – which is nothing like the rest of the area.

I knew walking there that there was supposed to be a tourist street, but I was curious about how to find it. Well, it turned out I had walked through almost the entire La Boca neighbourhood, and had sat down for some pizza, before I realised it was on a map I had and on the opposite side of the area. I walked over, looked at the tango shows going on in the streets, and trying to get back without passing back through it, ended up walking straight back into La Boca because of some confusingly winding streets.

By the Boca football stadium,

I bumped into a spanish "tourist" who I ended up walking with for about an hour or two into safer areas of the city. This is a common occurence when youre traveling by yourself, and I thought it was fun to practice my Spanish. We decided to get a taxi to Parlermo, another part of town famous for its cafees and night life. We then went and got a beer and played some pool, probably around 5 in the afternoon by now. After one beer, I remember standing up and thinking, wow, I am really drunk from that one beer. Then everything went black, for what turns out to be about 6 hours, and my next image of recolection is beeing in a taxi, without my day pack, camera and money. Turns out my new Spanish friend was Argentinian after all, and quite a skillfull mugger. No injuries though, except for an amazing hangover, I actually still felt drugged until early afternoon the next day. I guess some times it pays off to listen to the tourist advice.

I really felt like getting out of Buenos Aires after the second game.

Even though I enjoy myself, I dont like getting stuck for too long in a place and I now wanted to catch a ferry to Uruguay. Because of a holiday weekend however, I couldnt get out of the city for 2 more days, but finally on the Tuesday I was on my way to Colonia de Sacramento in the afternoon, after first oversleping after my newly purchased alarm clock failed on its first attempt at doing a job.

After a 2 hour boat ride, I arrived in Uruguay, utterly confused because I couldnt find an imigration office. I finally understood that both the Argentinan and Uruguayan offices had been two counters about a meter apart on the Argentininan side and wentured on into one of the nicest colonial cities Ive ever seen. My 3 year old guide book said how amazing it was that such a gem hadnt been discovered by tourists yet, and I trust the new update has removed that bit, because it was now extremely touristy – hardly any locals around – and pricy.

I watched a beatifull sunset,

and moved on to Uruguays capital, Montevideo the next morning.

Although an interesting mix of old and new – horse drawn carts are still widely seen in the street – I didnt feel like sticking around for too long in another big city after spending over two weeks in BA, and after a day of sightseeing (not a lot of sights really) and a night in a bar I left again the next morning for South Americas version of St. Tropez – Punta del Este.

A peninsula of high rises and fancy designer shops, this was not a place I had planned on hanging around for too long. And after spending a day on the beach, I fell asleep at around 7 in the evening and never went out to see the jet set night life.

The next morning I left for the small beach town of Paloma.

A good way off the beaten track, and with no map in my guide book, I started asking around for a hotel. A friendly English speaking local gave me 3 options, but warned me they might be closed, as the season hadnt started yet. He was very right, they were in fact all closed and the place was dead, so I decided to get an onward ticket and make Paloma a day trip.

In the evening I arrived in the small fishing village of Punta del Diablo as dusk was setting in. This for once was a village that was rightly described as a fishing village (it has not been turned into a tourist village, yet),

the main street made of sand, and the entire city quiet on a friday night.

The Atlantic ocean blows fierce winds onto this devils’ point, and I decided there was no way I would attempt to surf in these freezing waters. There was one restaurant open, and I had a nice sea food dinner here while three locals played traditional folk songs, with the singer, an Ernest Hemigway lookalike, approached each table in a friendly gesture with an axe!, asking for permission to keep singing, which was naturally granted by all the 4 other tables.

The next moming I left for brazil. On the way, it struck me as funny how few peoples live up to their stereotypical cultural image as the Uruguayans. Mate is a popluar drink in the Gaucho region, spanning several countries, but, in Uruguay it seemed like 9 out of 10 people were carrying a thermos of hot water, and even carrying it in a very characteristic way, probably instilled from childhood, to keep refilling their cup of bitter, herbal mate.

I arrived in the border town of Chuy, which grows naturally into Brazil with no apparent border. After spending a couple of hours chatting to a local guy over lunch, I was told you could just walk across the border. As it would turn out this was right, you could in fact walk across the BORDER, but after a 4km walk with my two backpacks I arived at the imigration office knowing I hadnt comunicated my wish to actually leave the country well enough. As it turnd out, the next town on the brazilian side of the border was 24 km away, definately not walking distance. I spent a couple of hours at the border, befriending the local police and customs officers before they hailed down a bus for me and actually got me a free ride into the nearest Brazilian town.

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