Vipassana – 10 days of monastic living

“A Vipassana retreat is a mental gym and the meditation sessions are like lifting weights”

Meditation. Yes. Believe it or not, I was in need of some. Here’s how it happened…

I took the bus to Dolores, a pueblito 5km from Capilla de Monte. Curiously, nearby Cerro Uritorco is famous for an extremely high number of UFO sightings and a rumoured subterranean community dwell under the mountain. Loco 🙂

"Change my perception...change my world" - coincidence at the bus station on my way to Dolores

“Change my perception…change my world” – coincidence at the bus station on my way to find ‘my marbles’ in Dolores

I was on my way to my first Vipassana course. After two years of curiosity and much whisper on the grapevine, an opportune moment had finally opened it’s petals like a lotus flower.

What is Vipassana?

It’s a type of secular Meditation taught at centres across the globe. Vi-passana means ‘seeing things as they really are’ in Pali, a language spoken at the time of the Buddha in India 2,500 years ago.

This technique of mind purification was taught by a wonderful evangelical Myanmese man named S.N. Goenka during his lifetime. 

And what does it do?

Through practice, Vipassana cultivates mindfulness: the ability to observe each moment with awakened, sharpened senses. The technique also teaches Equanimity, the art of observing rather than following addictive feelings of craving and aversion that can drive us all potty. Another fundamental to Vipassana is the Law of Impermanence and ‘Anitcha’ meaning ‘always changing’ which teaches the futility of clinging (on to things, thoughts, ideas) a self-destructive habit that inevitably leads to misery.

So far so good, si?!

gautama buddha

A man called Gautama became ‘the Buddha’ meaning ‘the Enlightened One’ when he unlocked the secret of life through meditation.


Witty and charming S.N. Goenka (1924-2013) was a wealthy businessman from a rich family before changing his path and touring the world teaching Vipassana meditation to anyone willing to commit to the discipline of 10-day course. Compassionately, he also took the course into prisons.

Sensory blindness

Why Vipassana?

Somehow, I was stuck in a rushing rut.  Apparently, there’s a name for this ingrained habit, it’s called ‘hurry sickness’ when you feel a constant urge to rush even when there’s no reason to.

It was time to confront this imaginary treadmill! The quality of my day to day experience had been suffering for too long – yes, despite those amazing Patagonian peaks!! My sense of intuition had become murky and I was thirsting for some kind of mental deep clean.


Lessons in the Art of Living

This was what I signed up to. As students we were asked to ‘surrender’ to a (no.1) disciplined routine of 11 hours of meditation daily rising starting at 4.30am and finishing each day at 9.30pm. 

To (no.2) Noble Silence. In order for the ‘chattering mind’ to settle, no communication is allowed for the duration – yes – this means no speaking, eye contact, physical contact, no conversation, no interaction. So-called ‘noble’ because everyone commits to this for communal benefit.


On arrival at the centre I was reminded of another condition of Vipassana: (no.3) the segregation of men and women. And never the twain shall meet as a result of a rope dividing the site into two separate gender zones.

After registration we (no.4) relinquished our mobile phones, car keys, valuables and any writing or reading material.

With all distractions are removed, preparing to scrub down to begin the “mental surgery” (Goenka’s words!) we changed into (no.5) modest loose clothing covering our legs and shoulders and prepared for an early night!


Oh Dahlias!

We’re all in this together!

I was content. No speaking for 10 days was a welcome change in gear to constant social interaction. Paz! Peace.

The tightly woven routine meant that there was little room to ruminate, to fret over decision making. Like a lassoed wild pony my mind gradually began to relax into submission.

I was within a small isolated world where 100 of us, students and serving staff, were committed to the same squeaky-clean standard. There was a nest-like comfort in that. Camaraderie and kinship were high. Valio la pena! This is worth it!


Just like all those negative thinking habits the ‘leaves’ fell from ‘the tree’ (my miiiiiiiiind!)

La Rutina

Each day we were roused out of our slumber by a gong (grrrr!).

By 4.25am I was outside wrapped in my meditation blanket gazing up at the starry sky and taking in some deep breaths of fresh autumnal air.

Mi cubiercama became the perfect meditation blanket and stopped me taking myself too seriously :-)

Mi cubrecama became the perfect meditation blanket plus fleecey pandas are always a good thing

The gong sounded again at 4.30am and it was time to assume crossed-legged position in ‘la sala’, a hall with a snug grid formation of other students, eyes closed, sat upright, breathing slowly….sometimes to the point of snoring. One memorable morning, one of the chaps was shaken gently awake after…. the fine veil between meditation and sleep had merged.

By 6.30am stomachs were growling and the gong (yay!) sounded for breakfast. There was time until 8am to have ‘un descanso’ = back to bed for some extra sleep.


Not for the faint hearted. Should I stay or should I go?!

Silent days & hard work

(…is the name of a Vipassana blog post by Amelie, ‘un estudiante antiguo’ and one of many lovely people I met on the course. Her title was too good not to recycle.)

From 8am the marathon of meditation really began with hourly sessions for the rest of the day and the 9 days to follow.

Our sanity was saved with 10-minute comfort breaks in between. A walk around the garden to gaze at the origami petals of Dahlias or flop back and find entertainment in passing clouds high above became engrossing as my noisy brain quietened.

TIME! to study the perfectly folded petals of these Dahlias and feel the marvel that they deserve. What a luxury :-)

TIME! to study the perfectly folded petals of these Dahlias and feel the marvel that they deserve. What a luxury

Has Anyone seen my Marbles?

I’d signed up to my first Vipassana with very little meditation experience so arrived with some trepidation…..what if I lost my marbles, threw a wobbly and embarrassed myself?!


To my relief, this didn’t happen 🙂 All gratitude to La Professor Alicia, a very smiley patient person leading the camp and my favourite time of day: recorded lectures from Mr. Goenka himself every evening. These offered the same comfort as bedtime stories. Through his wise delivery laden with witty anecdotes we were coaxed into the technique:

1. Of observing my natural breath & rising happy thoughts (craving) and unhappy thoughts (aversion). We did this for 3 days.

2…progressing to observing the small sensation of air passing through my nostrils.

Over a further 3 days I learnt the deep concentration to channel focus, like a magnifying glass, on this sensation and greet those rising thoughts of craving and aversion with equanimity. It felt like tightrope walking with a blindfold in fog – tricky! 

old anatomy 1

3…and finally progressing to observing sensations across the body through a mental scan “from the crown of the head to the tips of the toes”.

Super-high concentration required! but eventually I could feel my pulse quietly beating away in the skin of my cheeks…tension in the little muscles at my temples and in my throat…those miniature movements within my very own body, wow.

4.By day 5 we were also practising a stage of the training called ‘Strong Determination’. This was defined by sitting in the same position motionless for 1 hour 3x times a day. As inevitable pain arose we focused our new-found mind mastery skills (loud cough) in observing and (theoretically) lessening the unpleasant sensation. Hmmmmm…

More Yumi insight

I think comic artist Yumi Sakugawa knows a thing or two about Vipassana (

—-Sl-o-w-l-y—–does it

Just when I was wanted to kick-out at this asylum lifestyle with internal bursts of tantrum, Goenka’s witty telepathic explanations set me back on ‘el camino’/ the path. Morale was restored! The technique felt manageable, enjoyable through the personal discovery, challenging – oh yes! – but I felt progress —-s-l-o-w-l-y—- unfurling just like the unfolding petals of those Dahlias.

I enjoyed moments of clarity as the ability to observe became easier. I began to find an albeit slippery grip on the elusive sense of Equanimity as my desire to escape into daydream or ruminate and replay former ‘negativities’ rose up again and again and again.

The quote at the start of this story is pretty accurate expression of my Vipassana experience. This mental re-training was and continues to be HARD WORK!

Imagine herding cats….

yumi sakugawa meditation 1

….more Yumi insight….

Valio la Pena!

To conclude: after 10 days of incubation, my senses were significantly more sensitive and that was a novelty. I’d learnt some basics in ‘ Art of Living’. Thank you Mr. Goenka!

I could settle in moments and pay (and enjoy!) attention where that attention had once been swamped with mental junk. Hurrah!

Once the rule of Noble Silence was lifted it was strange to notice that only short conversations were possible before a headache and sore throat began from heightened sensitivity.

And…..I’d experienced a glimpse of something subtle but brilliant. To get there had been hard work undoubtedly but now, with the understanding that through self-mastery another experience of life is lying there parallel, I sincerely look forward to my next Vipassana undertaking, some time later in 2016 to top up!

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A Glacier and a Rest

Call me a pansy but after weeks of hitchhiking, camping and many damp days in lush green Chile I was hankering for some cosy R&R by the time I reached El Calafate.


My little pop-up dwelling on the banks of Lago Rivadavia

Emotional Digestion

The introvert in me yearned for a warm quiet room with blankets, hot tea and a window from which to gaze. To daydream, …reflect, …read. A term I’ve coined is emotional digestion.

For me, travelling longer term is only possible when I heed the call of this restorative time. Dashing from one place to another –sin una pausa- is my idea of hell.


Glacier Perito Moreno, looking like a dead ringer for a wedge of polystyrene

A Glacier puts TIME into perspective

However, I met lovely people as soon as I arrived. The next day the sun shone brightly and an invitation was there to join Lalo, Fernando and Stingy Nomads Alya and Campbell and see the anticipated Perito Moreno glacier.

Together we made a pilgrimage to this icy landscape in the mountains 80 kms north of El Calafate.


Here’s a sense of where El Calafate is in relation to the rest of the country

Who was Perito Moreno anyway?

Francisco ‘Perito’ Moreno was an Argentine explorer and scientist of the Patagonian landscape. Perito means ‘specialist’ or ‘expert’. This beast of a glacier, named in his honour is one of only three glaciers in Patagonia that is not retreating.

Perito Moreno

Francisco ‘Perito’ Moreno (1852-1919)

Forever in flux this startling entity creaks, gushes and sheds ice but grows slowly too. Wooden terraces on one side allow you to see the glacier from above or lower down near laguna level where it attaches to the earth on the shore.

I found a quiet place to sit and begin my comprehension of this Thing yearning for the company of a geologist to make it all: Make Sense!


Vital Statistics

The glacier measures 3 miles (5 km) wide and 19 miles (30km) in length. It covers 97 mi² (250 km²).

The ice measures 60 m high on average although at it’s greatest it reaches 700 m. Apparently only 10% is visible with the remaining 90% bobbing away under all of that turquoise water.


“Glacier Perito Moreno is one of 48 glaciers that comprise the Southern Patagonian Ice Field. With an area of 6,800 mi² (16,800 km²) it is the second largest contiguous ice field in the world, stretching across the southern Andes, measuring almost 220 miles (355 km) long and 30 miles (48 km) wide. Along with the Northern Patagonian Ice Field, these present day ice fields are remnants of the last Ice Age (18,000-17,500 years ago), when all of southern Chile and Argentina was covered in a thick sheet of ice (an area estimated to be about 480,000 km² or just under 300,000 mi²)” (Source here)


A quick sketch in my notebook trying to make sense of time and how a glacier slowly comes into existence

My Understanding

Over thousands of years the glacier has grown through accumulation, rather like an icicle. Falling rain and snow in the valley between two mountain peaks land, freeze and compress in conditions that are continuously cold. As a result, according to the Guarda Parque, all of this compacted ice slowly grows into being the awesome ever-changing glacial mass that it is today.


A Glacial Guru

The invitation to sit and muse over these huge stretches of time came at a perfect moment. There before me was a gargantuan metaphor offering a lesson of life in the slow lane. It’s not the first time I’ve looked to the landscape around me for life coaching. My guru.

A memory was also sparked back to the wise words of young Sam, a tall tanned Californian and hitchhiking buddy on the roadside of Villa Castillo, Chile.

“The rush…?

…we’re only rushing against ourselves”


Orientation in Villa Castillo, Chile


Camionettas and combis turned Cocina cafe for hungry hitchhikers in Villa Castillo, Chile

Such simple words and I decided he was right. I understood for a short while that this sense of speed was illusory and addictive. The choice is always there to step-off that imaginary hamster wheel and reset your metronome to your own pace.

Well, that was what I planned to do anyway.





A ride out of Tres Lagos with Pedro

Six hours later in the day Pedro, a retiree from Neuquen offers me a much-coveted ride to El Calafate. I am wary of accepting lifts from single men of divorcee age but quiz him a series of questions and feel safe enough to accept.

The past six hours passed surprisingly quickly with a combination of snacking, thinking and finally, as always, bad pop and a Flight of the Conchords album that poses as my best friend. These songs still make me laugh out loud despite one thousand listens or more.

We speed out into the huge Patagonia landscape of dry golden pampa. Ruta 40 is a premium here: a lazily strewn ribbon reaching into the horizon….. Ciao Tres Lagos!

I sense that Pedro is a little deaf. He doesn’t seem to understand a word I’m saying despite my best rolled “Rrrrrrrrr”‘s! which is a little worrying with a 1.5 hour journey ahead. This is remote territory with nothing for mile”’lometres and I don’t want to be ejected from this ride and forced to wait on an extremely lonely roadside….. without wind shelter, dog or a bumblebee for morale. Perhaps a Guanacho might befriend me if I’m lucky.

I realise that I’ve committed myself, there’s no turning back now. I spin a tale about a makebelieve boyfriend waiting for me in El Calafate….and a sister….and friends to encourage extra safety.

When my anxiety wains I begin to notice the landscape. Wow! Barren, yes, but the earth is a sea of golden tufts of hair and as we pass the summit of a low brow, behold: a lake of creamy turquoise. I think of Dune.


Frank Herbert’s 1965 Sci-fi classic of desert planet Arrakis and the Fremen with glowing eyes of blue. Thank you for this image of the book.

We reach El Calafate quickly. I must be adapted to these epic long journeys now that this one felt brief. Pedro reminds me of my Grandad. He tells me about his adult children and explains the meanings of their Mapuche names: Nahuel (=puma, tiger), Malen (=maiden) and Antu (=sun). He enthuses about his dream motorhome. We both cheer when we reach El Calafate! After all he’s driven nearly 2000kms over 2 days and I too have had the uncertainty of ever leaving Tres Lagos.

Shops….people….stuff….green trees….alfajores….!

It seems I’m a domesticated animal after all 😀

Hitchhiking with a Dog and a Bumblebee

I’m here in Tres Lagos

A one-horse town in the middle of nowhere. Probably the most remote barren place I’ve ever been in my life. Despite its name I haven’t seen one lago=lake, yet alone three, for several hundred kilometres.

The gorgeous Aussie spirits left this morning, and when they did I was ready to hit the road! My task today? To hitch a ride out of this landlocked ghost town to the promising shiny allure of ‘ciudad’ El Calafate.


My Canine Sidekick

I find a place to base myself by the roadside at 9.30h.

The gorgeous young dog that slept by my tent last night has followed me here and continues his mission of sleep on the pavement. During the night I heard his shuffling and deep restful breaths through the thin membrane of my little shelter.

I didn’t expect company but am very glad of it.

I’m prepared today wearing my usual layers of calcinettas and thin wool thermals, hoodie, hat, boufanda=scarf… Thankfully, it’s a bright day and the wind is forgiving. These are things I’ve learnt to appreciate in Patagonia where El Clima is fully in charge. Here is an ocean of expansive pampa and sky. The dry strong winds greatly discourage trees to grow leaving little protection from the raw cheek-battering elements.


A Sense of Freedom

I fire up my stove and brew some milky coffee. With hot drink, dog, sunshine and that wonderful mixture of freedom and independence this feels like an opportunity to literally stand still and reflect on my recent journey.

By 12.30h only a handful of vehiculos have passed through Tres Lagos. They’re all either full of vacationers or the locals going about their Sunday. Erm…yes…I’d lost track of the fact it’s Domingo. However, despite my initial panicky burst of ‘saudade’ last night to be in this nowhere alone, I’m in really good spirits.


Rafal Kowalski comes into Town

My solace is interrupted when a lone cyclist arrives in town. Looking very travel savvy with a guitar and Polish flag strapped to the back of his vehiculo, we begin to chat. This is Rafal, a former Ikea carpenter who began travelling in 2005 and is still on the road having covered much of the globe. As I enjoyed his conversation my eyes wandered south to his Ruta-40-adapted combination of thick hiking socks and sandals. Nice touch Rafal!


By sheer coincidence, I woke up one morning (3 days later) to see that Rafal was my immediate neighbour in the campsite in El Calafate.

Ooozing zest and a wide smile Rafal spun his tale of playing music on the street as he travels, to fund his travel. He almost took the words out of my mouth when he said simply that:

Street performance opens the heart of people. 

I share my street dancing experiences with him.

Recently, I’ve been feeling pretty feeble and domestic, craving my home comforts and wondering, sometimes, how to feel contentment without them. This short illuminating conversation with Rafal really put things into perspective for me.


What a place to Be a Bee!

Enter the second highlight of this afternoon: a lovely bumblebee was bothering me a moment ago. His legs were heaving with pollen and he seemed to think that I might have nectar too. I’ve never had so much intimate attention from a bumblebee which gave me lots of time to study this tiny brilliant creature.

For a moment there I imagined windy cold barren Southern Patagonia from a Bee’s Eye View perspective, up in the air, looking down on wingless giant human hitchhikers who might have nectar.


The Goddess of the Road looks favourably upon me!

There was a bottleneck of Backpackers in Puerto Rio Tranquilo

I kept bumping into the same faces. Many of us, with our Chilean $ pesos running low were staying in the ultra-ultra-budget campsite in town. What you lose in basic services you gain in camaraderie: the cheap places are always the friendliest 🙂


The town’s popularity is the result of the beautiful Capilla de Marmol, the ‘chapel of marble’ caves out on a Laguna General Carrera. Whipped cream rock formations on transparently turquoise waters, you’d be forgiven for thinking you were in the Caribbean if it weren’t for the nippingly fresh wind.







How to get to Chile Chico?

I had only $10,000 (£10) left in my pocket and still 165 kilometres left to cover before Chile Chico and the prized border back to Argentina. Chilean Patagonia had haemorrhaged my savings. I was feeling anxious and a little stranded.

With so much competition, hitchhiking out of here felt almost impossible. The season was almost over and only a trickle of vehicles were passing through.

Nevertheless, I chose to wear my bright pink tight that day in the hope that I might stand out from the crowd of roadside thumbs.


The Pink Tights worked magic!

No sooner was I concocting rescue Plans B & C when two twin-like Aussies pulled up in a white Chevrolet. I loitered like a street dog drooling for a bone. As they bid their previous hiker ‘adieu’ and I blurted out,

“Van a Chile Chico? Hablan Ingles….? Hello! Where are you chaps headed? …..Do you have space for me…..pllll….ease?!”

I stuttered in disbelief  

…when I heard their affirmative response – really? Really? “Are you sure?!” Miracle workers! they agreed to have me aboard in that relaxedly Aussie drawl I love. We were on our way to Los Antiguos, the first town after the border crossing and I felt like I’d won a Golden Ticket to Willy Wonker’s Chocolate Factory!


Ruta 40 goes on and on and on….remote plains of pampa and family groups of Guanacos pose by the roadside

Road Tripping

What began as a ride across the border turned into two days of travel with Francesca and Anthony, sister and brother scientists from the Blue Mountains of Sydney. They shared their love of canyoning and mountaineering in remote places all over the world that left me yearning for more.


Francesca in Grotto Canyon, Apiring National Park, New Zealand

I heard about their father’s backpacking travels across India during the late sixties – a man I’d love to interview! what a dude.

From the unique ecology of New Zealand and the national parks of the United States….to the recent time they found a young woman gravely injured from her car crash in the Californian desert and rescued her back to safety.

Over humble meals of bread, tomato and cheese (‘Backpackers’ Delight’) we enthused about our favourite flavoursome foods from Asia.

2014 - 1 (1)

The words of Marie Curie (pioneering Polish-French physicist and chemist, 1867-1934). She was the first woman to win the Nobel Prize and, the first and only person to win it twice.

A conversation highlight was Frank’s animated description (in layman’s terms for me) of the wonder of Proteins, a subject at the heart of her phD research. Wonderful images grew and duplicated like cells in my imagination as she described their place in everything within our bodies, our organs, the systems that govern our physical function and outside of us, all around us, in everything! Marie Curie’s words came to mind.


From Los Antiguos to Perito Moreno to Bajo Caracoles to Tres Lagos….we covered 704kms together. That feeling of good fortune never wained thanks to their familial company and all the fabulous stories.

‘Dedo’ – Hitchhiking along Ruta 40

Pointing the finger / Pointing the ‘dedo’

In Spanish the thumb is also called a finger, hence to ‘thumb a ride’ is to ‘dedo’.

It may sound silly but hitchhiking is there amongst my childhood dreams. As a young whipper-snapper in sleepy town Suffolk I envisioned true travel as sharing the back of a pick-up with local farm workers in a far away land.

In Argentina ‘dedo’ was something I was ready to try.


La Peatonal Pasarella, the wooden foot bridge leaving El Bolson

Nevertheless, all the reasonable anxieties of una mochillera sola extrangera / single female backpacker kept nagging away,

  • What if my ride turns out to also be a charismatic psychopath?
  • Do I speak Spanish well enough to hold a long conversation?
  • What if I get robbed or lost in the middle of nowhere?


It wasn’t until I reached the hippie town of El Bolson, south of Bariloche and met Andre, that I was ready to get started.



Tent living is made all the better with a constant supply of tea 😀

Mi Maestro

We met in budget $60 (£3) camping across the river. I was the only extrangera within a camping community of South American bohemian travellers escaping the cities for summertime work, selling their ‘artesania’ or touring in bands.

Two days of relentless rain storm left all us seeking dry refuge in the rough wooden cabin that served as a kitchen. The innate desire to share —COMPARTIR!!— meant that food was busily prepared and bubbling away on the stove for everyone who was to join the congregation.

It was such a toasty night of macrame and drawing around the table, bottles of beer and wine passed like mate, from one to another along with songs and stories. We ate steaming hot comida under one dangling bright light bulb suspended above a long wooden table.


I don’t think the wooden walls of this little shack had ever felt such good cheer!

As well as the usual conversation comparing countries and languages we compared confusion at jazz music theory and listened to old cheerful tunes from the 1920s. Andre twanged a version of Durazno Sangrando, an Argentine classic by amazing Luis Spinetta. Common to the others but new to me was the strangely beautiful tale of a bleeding peach.

Leaving El Bolson

The next day, after lots of chat about the ‘what ifs and where fors’ Andre helped me find a good spot for a ride out of the town: by the gasolina station after the supermarket.

I was ready! and it was thanks to him and some encouragement, for giving me that —final—–gentle—–push——

Within 30 minutes Katia, a ceramicist from El Hoyo offered me a ride and I was on the road!


‘Immigrant Way’, a name that made me smile as I waited for another ride


El Hoyo, town abundant in raspberry, strawberry, blackberry farms


Dancing with Dario in Cordoba

Vacaciones de Navidad
Lunes, 28 Deciembre

Dario taught a swing dance classes in Parque las Tejas/ Tiles park. Despite now living in Buenos Aires, he’s sowing small seeds and nurturing a swing dance community in his home city of Cordoba. Some of those in the class are hip hop and house dance enthusiasts as well as Dai Zapata, an experienced Cordobes tap dancer.

As it was Dario’s last night we had to commemorate the occasion with a dance under the white bridge with the Christmas tree of lights in the distance.

Although barely audible we’re dancing to ‘Wham’ by The Hot Sugar Band.

“Making Mate and Whistling a Tango”

These are the words of Luciana as she reminisced to me about her Porteno Grandparents and times when she’s felt homesick for Argentina. She lived in London for a time. I stayed with her for just shy of a week and felt so at home in this big old bohemian 1930’s apartment. Within 5 minutes of being in the door, with my backpack heavily lumped onto the cool floor we were ‘sharing a mate’.


Couchsurf car: Pina, name after the awesome German dance choreographer 🙂


Another Couchsurf home. Luciana’s lived in a 1930’s residential building with gigantic proportions.

Tomar un mate!

=To take a mate (“ma-tay”). Much like black tea with milk in the UK – a.k.a. “a cuppa” – mate is ubiquitous in Argentine culture. Before the influence of American coffee shops took over the world, mate was even more embedded in daily life here. It’s not just a case of sipping this stimulating pick-me-up to revive yourself or to pausing for a thirst quencher – to “tomar un mate” is to share a conversation….to hang out….to be together.

Mate Drinking

Loose leaf: add hot water to your mate and enjoy. As you’d expected from Southern Brazil to Uruguay, from Northern Argentina to the South, mate varies in taste and preparation.

Fancy a Cuppa?

I feel this way about tea in the UK. In my family a cuppa is drunk almost hourly (my father’s influence), much to the horror and puzzlement of our French relatives. To my delight, that cup of tea is nearly always accompanied by a chat, an update or a longer conversation.

So the social contact and the drinking are interwoven.

Mate is drunk from a little hollowed out gourd. These were as little as 20 pesos (about £1).

Mate is drunk from a little hollowed out gourd. These were as little as 20 pesos (about £1).


Mate is quite literally shared, the gourd and silver straw passed from one person to another.

If you’re feeling peckish

…other Argentine delicacies to enjoy before or after your mate……


Not as tasty as the real thing: Empanada purses!


Hotdogs! and other animal carcass things….plus chips: papa fritas.


Bitza pizza everywhere – the ever-present Italian influence n Buenos Aires.


Did I mention Dulce-di-leche…..? Confiterias everywhere, aaahhhhh! I have nightmares that Alfajores are chasing me down the street demanding I eat them!

An antidote to Alfajores.

An antidote to Alfajores.


Gratuitous unrelated photo of an Upholsterer with a darn pretty frontage 🙂

The ‘CAPOS’ Porteno Swing Dance Championships


Sabado 14 Noviembre

I’m so glad to catch this! It’s ‘CAPOS’ time!

This is the Campeonato Porteno de Swing/ Buenos Aires Swing Dance Championships  and the build up has been exciting with everyone seemingly rehearsing their socks off to refine their coreos/ choreographies. Dear Dario, another kindred Herrang spirit has been consumed with rehearsals and we’re yet to meet and share a mate.

Before I go any further, let me translate Porteno for you! This word refers to somebody from Buenos Aires, a port city = ‘port-eno’. For example:


a ‘Portena’ government building graced with Jacaranda trees of violet blossom.

A 'Porteno' taxi.

A ‘Porteno’ taxi.

Elspeth la Inglesa

I meet Elsie, a new pal, on a sun-drenched Saturday morning Avenida and we travel across the city to Pedro Goyena together. Elsie is from Bristol and we met at a Swing City dance class the week beforehand.

She talks in the very best slang that is so familiar to me and her company is muy linda! Together we jabber enthusiastically ‘effing, jeffing as we go, flinging in healthy dollops of sarcasm and random metaphor. Yes, I’m learning Spanish but sometimes it’s nice to take time out and let off steam in your mother tongue.

Elsie’s here in Argentina for six weeks to take stock, dip her plimsolls into Swing dance in Buenos Aires and to work with an alternative farming community in the countryside beyond the city.


Dos Gringas

We arrive at a beautiful dance hall in a 1930’s building. Dancers are buzzing around with their contest numbers pinned to their clothes. As always in this scene there is the sweetest mix of ye olde 1920s-50s ‘vintage’ variation mixed with casual comfortable plimsols, t-shirt, jeans.



Las Chicas line-up for the Open Jack & Jill.

Meet Jack y Jill

El Campeonato begins with an Open Jack & Jill. To give you a quick definition:

a J&J allows your ability as a dancer to be tested by dancing with a random mix of partners to music chosen by the Deejay, over a number of heats.

This contest was Open to all abilities as opposed to an ‘Invitational’.

Elsie enters the contest but I’m afraid I cower out. This Jack and Jill takes place over four sets with the best dancers selected from Round 1 to compete in subsequent rounds. With each heat, the number of dancers is whittled down to finalists.




I get up and get busy during the 20 minute social dancing breaks in between the Jack & Jill. After some lovely dances I have a surprise reunion with Gabriela, Cinthia and Cesar – we met last year in Brazil. They’ve flown over to compete. Here they are in the Solo Charleston Finals.



As the afternoon progresses I swoon at the talent and dedication of so many dancers here. I am full of admiration. Here’s are the Jack & Jill Finals: *cut to 2:22 for the solos!*

Una Pausa por Alfajores y café con crema

Elsie and I nip out for a much need break of fresh air, natural light, alfajores y café con crema. Upon our return, las coreos comienzan and we sit cross-legged to enjoy the fruits of the previous weeks’ laborious practise. I do love this!! Such humour, creativity and endeavour. This community is motivated and progressive. The energy here is in full flow.

This is my favourite showcase! Rachel Austin y Alex Morgan mix it up and dance like ninjas: “increIBle”!!


Find films of other choreographies at the bottom of this post 🙂

After all, no After Party for Me 😦

As the CAPOS continues into the night, my social batteries slowly wind down and I decide to forego the after party. I catch the No.24 colectivo to Avenida San Juan where I’m staying with amazing Couchsurf host Luciana. Sweaty and in much need of a change of clothes I can’t even comprehend the after party despite Marcela’s encouragement, dressed as a 1920s flapper girl shouting across to Elsie y I on a busy bus at 1am.

Jazzy night bus.

Jazzy night bus.

The future is: Campeonato America del Sur

Back to normality at Swing City classes on Monday evening, Juan Villafane is describing his aspirations for the CAPOS. Over the next couple of years the team will continue to grow the event, link-up with scenes in Brazil, Chile and Uruguay and evolve this into the South American Swing Dance Championships. The ambition is exciting and I can’t help but feel drunk on Swing-love! (yes, I’m giddy!)

With such a feeling the enormous ocean between us here in Buenos Aires and Europe ….or the miles of land to North America and west to Korea, Japan, India, China….these distances all fade away and through this community I feel such a comfort of human connection 🙂

(Thank you Ana Luz Crespi, ALC Fotografica for permission to use your photos.)

southamerica map

It’s Good to Be in Buenos Aires!


Martes 17 Noviembre

I arrived here at sunset by ferry from Colonia, Uruguay.

Our boat was welcomed by a sprouting of sky scrapers. Canary Wharf springs to mind, I feel a strange comfort. I imagine being an early immigrant arriving in this new land (before the skyscrapers) fleeing adversity and seeking some fortune.

Early migrants travelled from Britain to Argentina (

Early 20th century European migrants to Argentina included the Fraser family from Britain. Many moved south to try their luck in Patagonia where their heritage still exists. (source:

Puerto Madero y a small illuminated boat.

Puerto Madero y a small illuminated boat.

My backpack feels huge, like I’m giving someone a piggy back. I wish it were lighter…smaller…but on this trip, with plans to head south to Patagonia just like the Fraser family, I included a tent and camping kit plus hiking boots…oh, and a 36″ hula hoop. This is the consequence 🙂

On emerging from Puerto Madero I haggle for a good taxi fare to Colegiales where Matti lives. We met through Capoeira in Salvador. I stay with him for my first few days and he helps me get organised with a Subte transport card + phone sim + phone apps to translate this matrix of calles /streets y colectivos /buses y barrios /neighbourhoods.




“Oh no” for Alfajores!

Matti also introduces me to ‘Alfajores’….oh dear, my Achilles heel twerks: they’re like a ultra-uber-mega-souped up Wagon Wheel with a smother of dulce di leche in the middle. To update you: ‘dulce di leche’ is one of the pillars on which Argentine gastronomy is rooted 🙂 A condensed milk caramel, it’s ubiquitous here and heavenly to taste. Danger!


‘A’ is for Alfajor


I feel a distinct absence of culture shock being here in Buenos Aires. I keep reminding myself that I’m no longer in Europe but thousands of miles across an enormous expanse of ocean. According to the Portenos/ Buenos Airean locals, many profess Italian descent; the architecture here is a mixture of Italian, French and Spanish baroque as well as Art Nouveau and Deco. All in all the Euro-vibe starts to make sense.








This is a Swing City!

As always the local Swing dance scene is my faithful key, travel companion, my portal into a parallel experience. Buenos Aires is blessed with a bulging scene of daily classes and social dances. I am overjoyed and overwhelmed! Where does one triple step to first?!

Celeste y mi

Celeste and I after her super class above a bookshop in San Telmo / A pilgrimage place for Swing dancers the world over: Herrang!

Lovely Celeste meets me at a Big Band night in Belgrano, my first night on the town. She’s been non-stop all day with rehearsals for the forthcoming CAPOS (Campeonato Porteno de Swing/ Buenos Aires Swing Dance Championships). We met back in August in Sweden at the infamous Herrang Dance Camp.

Thankfully, she advises which classes to take and introduces me to two Americans who have lived here in the big Latino Smoke for the past year, Heather and Blake.

'Baila Swing' con Lu Salinas y Jose

‘Baila Swing’ con Lu Salinas y Jose Zarazaga.


Swing San Telmo with Celeste y Mariano.


Swingin’ Nights at the Niceto Club. Free Entry with my Swing City membership card 🙂

Tiempo para Aprender Espanol/ Time to learn Spanish

I take the leap and enroll myself on one week of Spanish classes on Suipacha from Lunes/ Monday. I must learn the language here! no excuses. This is a valuable lesson learnt from never-quite-grasping Portuguese in Brasil to any level other than limited casual chat.


Medialuna = 'Half moon'

Medialuna = ‘Half moon’. Croissant cafe bakeries are everywhere in Buenos Aires.


After a couple of days of four-hour classes plus afternoon orientation tours, I’m tired but go along to Swing City dance classes nearby on Sarmiento. This is the Escuela de Baila Swing/ Swing dance school of jazz dance star Juan Villafane, Mariel Gastiarena y Manuel Bicain Goral. The mirrored studio is great, there are students a plenty, …..remarkably the Leads outnumber the Follows! and the class content is generous and challenging. !! HURRAH !!

I think I’m going to like it here 🙂

Swing City banner

Swing City banner 2

Juan y Candela

Candela Mendez y Juan Villafane.