Day 112 - Tristan checks out...

All good things have to come to an end. And sadly, today was the day when my boyfriend of 4 and a half amazing months checked out of our hostel and boarded a plane back to the UK. gutted. No really, I'm SO gutted. Like I've been drugged up and had a kidney stolen, then left for dead on the street outside a harley street doctors. Devastated.



Anyway, I'm seeing him in 4 months in china, and that's a lot sooner than I could possibly have hoped for, so I'm gonna dry not to whinge about it too much. SO, a quick recap of the last few days. Firstly, I forgot to mention the sheer excitement of getting a CAMA EXECUTIVE bus from Igauzu to Buenos Aires. This was special. It costs about 3 quid more than a SEMICAMA bus (where the seats recline loads, but you are sat at an angle). This bus had properly FLAT BEDS for us, and we were well excited.





Sadly, they looked good, but were possibly the most uncomfortable of all the buses we had taken. Not a good move. But at least they were a bit more fun than normal. Anyway, after the pleasure of Holy Land, we didn't do too much for a couple days apart from eat at La Clac, a very fancy restaurant which we've been to about 4 times now, and shop - sam and tristan now both own a pair of argentine Converse, I have some new CDs, and tristan has a whole new wardrobe of tacky "Buenos Aires" tourists t-shirts which he wears VERY well.



On Monday, Tristan's final night before he returned home, I took him out for a romantic dinner...at La Clac, again. I put on my shirt and tie for the occassion, and Tristan donned his white shoes. And despite neither of us being wine drinkers, we sunk a bottle Lopez red wine between us and tucked into some fine pieces of steak.

On his last day, we checked out at 11am, grabbed some lunch with Sam who was sorely hungover from the night before, then the two of us headed into town on a bus to make the most of the sunshine and the city. First stop was the Museum of Fine Art, which had some work by my favourite artist, Goya, which was amazing - amongst a shed load of other stuff. Great museum.







After that we wandered through Recoleta to the cities famous cemetary, which is totally weird, but totally amazing. Laid out like a little village, complete with little streets and tree-lined avenues, the crypts themselves are like houses, all with shelves for dead family members (many vacant) and creepy stairs leading to more room underground. All the crypts can be seen into, and amongst other famous people, Eva Peron (Evita) is buried here, within a crypt covered in posters, flowers and camera flashes from all the tourists. Tristan and I wandered round the city of crypts, holding hands, for ages, soaking it up. Until it got too creepy.











And then we headed towards the centre, past some really fancy shops, down into San Telmo, with its cobbled streets, antique shops and retro clothes. As we approached the time that we had to get a cab to the airport, I kinda lost the ability to talk. And after the cab ride to the airport, I kissed the boy goodbye in the security clearance queue and left him to fly home.

And that was cool. A brief 2 minute cry and I was fine. Dealing with it just fine. That is, until, after a night out and 3 hours sleep, I spent the next day sobbing. Uncontrollably. All day long. At the hostel. On my computer keyboard. Into Suzi's arms as I said goodbye to her for 4 months. Killer. And as the sky got dark, we got a cab to the airport again, and this time it was us flying. Farewell South America - hello New Zealand.