Soho, Santa Fe and so long Surfer Host, B.A Argentina

Wake and must find both vegetables and fruit before my internal organs shut down. I feel a little guilty but I leave Mattias to his own devices and discover a cafe on Corrientes that does a Carribbean breakfast of fruit and yoghurt – bliss! The cafe (and indeed the city) is filled with impeccably dressed little old couples holding hands. The men are in suits and hats, the ladies with pristine blowdries and make up. I think of my dear Susan – who I can imagine growing old with her lovely husband Martin, tottering around the city in fashionable good taste. 

Suddenly an eggy wave comes over to me and I suspect the old couple in front of me of farting. Hmmm suddenly they seem a little less sweet! 

Later that evening Mattias and I do a little walking tour of Palermo Soho. Like Soho's everywhere its one of the most lively, fashionable and touristy parts of the city. The main plaza is called Cortaza after the poet and filled with market stalls. Its circumference is surrounded by little clothes shops, bars and restaurants with the main street that leads up to it – Jorges Luis Borges. 

By 8pm i'm absolutely famished but of course its still too early for Mattias so we go on another long walk down to Santa Fe and finally make it back to an iItalian restaurant around 10pm. I have home made orrchiete and its good. We sit and discuss politics once more and he shows me a youtube footage of the Bolivian president playing a friendly game of football and kicking the mayor in the shins. We talk about Venzuela's President Chavez and how mad he is. He has gone on air to say that eating chicken pumped with hormones can turn you gay – and that capitalism is responsible for wiping out life on mars. 

Extraordinary....and i thought David Cameron was bad... 

I pop out for a drink with a guy who has contacted me via Couchsurfing. He's sweet but coming up to breast level he looks a helluva lot older and shorter than his profile. We share anotherr Picadie of cheese, ham and other non vegetable based carbs... 

It is time to bid farewell to Mattias. He has to leave early for work and I must negotiate and navigate my backpack -or The Bastard as its now affectionately known on rush hour buses and the Subte – the Metro. Only problem is – I can't find my knickers. Somewhere in Mattias flat is a dirty pair of knickers. Oh god – how cringeworthy. I scour the living room and bed area. Finally I rush back into the bathroom and see them lying, slightly sodden on the bidet. I have a feeling he has put them there. For the second time I think...AWKWARD!