Cuarenta y nueve.

Buenos-Aires is FFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU! But after 5 months Kate came to me! So all the rest is going to hell. We've visited all local sights - flea markets, cinemas with porno movies, gay clubs, an office of alcoholics anonymous, outskirts&more outskirts. Ten days among street paupers and hills of a trash, and there was the only one corollary - es Aires de mierde. The only man that I miss is a Scottish guy, but I guess he's going well on his way, so, that's totally alright.

Cuarenta y ocho.

Close to Gualeguaychu (approximately 230 km northwest of Baires) a nail on the road pricked the last tire I bought from big Moscow bicycle shop. All my efforts to find the same tires for Chagan in Sudamerica culminated in failure. Fucked rare beast. Well. By the way, where I'm? Let LP talks - "Gualeguaychu has a famous carnival, with women, feathers, orchestras, etc, and today - what a lucky boy you're! - is a final repetition day of this happening". Alright, buddy, why not. Not so fast, amigo! Hoho, identity check, where's your fucked i.d., scum? Sure, I dropped it in the hostel room. Disgustful smell from the forgotten north lands. I spent with Argentinian police two hours in efforts to explain that I'm not so dignified to keep them company for a whole night. Their jail on the right hand was so cute, so after I got free I took direction directly to bed. Next day I left the city by bus. Stupid coppers. Without Chagan I started a new life. It wasn't really cool! Especially at the beginning.

Cuarenta y siete.

I slept two or three days at Parana, drinking mate (yes, they've got me about that), fixing the bike, walking, talking with backpackers, drinking Cerveza, etc. Usual household duties of usual homeless. Then rode away (what else could I do?). Last ten kilometers to national park El Palmar was wet&dark; be a rider on the storm - absolutely bad idea for bicycle journey. There were a lot of palms, animals, and hippies. I spent there three nights, didn't pay for last one (fucked hippy Hesus didn't pay for whole last month). Nice place, especially at nights, when animals hanging around and humanity's annulled.

Cuarenta y seis.

We almost enter final straight. After Cordoba, there were San Francisco (gloomy costly hole) and Santo Tome (little township of Santa Fe). I cracked a focking personal record, about 250km over the two days. I asked police for the cheap or free host and was declined. I granted an interview and listened to the pampa. On the sunset insects of pampa sounds like air defense guns. I got deadly tired and met right and bright people. Small touches can alter more than a mere decade. I was just nigh at hand of Buenos Aires.