And Buenos Aires done

Today I lost my wallet, somewhere between Buenos Aires and Lima. I only lost some Argentinian pesos, but I've also lost yet another debit card. Luckily I have the Travelex card, but it is expensive to use, almost $5 everytime I take out money on it. And if I lose that, well, then...

I am in Bogota at a hostel. It is difficult to organise couchsurfing at the last minute when you have no mobile phone, but I hope to be at A´s, a German couchsurfer living in Bogota, tomorrow. I think I will feel better when I get there. Now, I admit to being a little bit freaked out. I am very tired, it is nighttime and when I went to leave for a walk, the host at the hostel told me to leave everything here in a locker (but I have no lock) and to be careful. So I didn´t go far, just to a shop where I could buy an avocado and a loaf of bread from outside the grilled door of a shop.

Travellers here have stories worse than me losing a wallet. One girl has been pickpocketed (in a group of people) twice in South America. Another also lost his credit card and spent a lot of money to get it couriered to him. But they all seem very nonchalant. It is only me who is timid.

There are many Australians here.

I think some of you will laugh when you read this, but I found a boy in Buenos Aires. This is why I am so tired, not much sleep. It was a true travel adventure. Hector started talking to me at the tango restaurant he works for in La Boca, where I was drinking a glass of wine. He got to me while I was finishing my wine and asked if he could come with me as I left even though I think we had only spoken a few sentences. He doesn't speak any English. I was feeling sick, down, and lonely, so I said yes. We started out with the idea that he´d walk me back to San Telmo but he quickly said we would go to his place to leave his jacket (I think that was the indication, anyway). So I decided to go with him.

He turned out to be super, super sweet. And indefatigable. It felt like an adventure to stay where he lives, in a room. His room is off what seems like the roof of a building. There is a shared kitchen and bathroom. To use the toilet, I had to slide a heavy door, attached to nothing, across the doorway to indicate it was in use. There was no light. Late in the evening he took me to the shared shower, a single stream of water, hot for a little while, then cold. This shower was an attention he paid me. I was happy to stay in bed, but he got me up, provided me with soap, shampoo and conditioner and guided me to the shower. Then he had to have a cold one.

When we got to his room, Hector kept plying me with tea. He left me and bought cold pills. He wanted desperately to feed me but I wasn´t hungry. I couldn't even eat a whole alfombra, the special Argentinian chocolate-coated cookie. He went out again and bought hamburgers, but I still insisted I couldn´t eat. He kept asking me if I was trying to be thin, but truly I was not hungry for once in my life. He also kept cleaning everything up right away: when I took off my skirt and put it on the floor, he took it and draped it over a chair. The television was on and his computer, playing music. He downloaded some Pink Floyd for me. We could barely talk to each other. I could understand nothing he said and my sentences were so poorly put together and badly spoken that it was difficult for him. So, I know almost nothing about him. I guess the prospect of sex gives someone infinite patience. I would have found trying to talk to me unbearably frustrating.

But his kind attentions were persuasive. When I finally got to the point of crawling into his bed and I took my skirt off, he said 'Wow´. I still had my leggings on.

I was so impressed by his intimacy and respect for me that I agreed to meet him again the next night, at his restaurant. However, I finally got in touch with W and organised to meet her and a couple of friends to go see a 6.00pm planetarium show. So I spent the afternoon trying to find the market at La Boca again. I was lost and worried I wouldn´t find Hector before I had to catch a bus to take me into Palermo to meet Wanda. At the last moment I found the market but Hector wasn´t at the restaurant. I left a note for him with his fellow hawkers/waiters asking to meet me at my hostel at 10pm. I felt a little silly going out of my way for this stranger, but he was so kind it felt like the right thing to do. He found me at the bus stop at La Boca, having gotten my note, and did indeed come to get me at 10pm that night.

This second night was not quite as effusive as the first, but still lovely. Hector bought me pizza and gave me beer. I was late to leave for a 5am taxi at the hostel to take me to the express bus to the airport. Hector paid for my taxi and gave me a small tango metal statue and two alfombras to remember him by. He took my email address and kept asking me for my return date to Australia. I think he wants to email me when I get home.

I think I like the way these Argentinians raise their boys. Like M in Venezuela - who grew up in Buenos Aires - Hector was all chivalry and attention. Lovely. And, might I say, lucky me. Lucky that I attract these sorts of men and that I know whom to go home with.

The planetarium show was sold out, so W and her friends and I drank beer at a very lush, old-fashioned velvety bar with wood floors for a couple of hours and then went home. It was also lovely to see W again, who, you remember, hosted me last year.

Obviously meeting Hector greatly increased my mood, but I am back to being flat and anxious. It was nice to be in Buenos Aires because it was familiar and I felt safe, despite the warnings. In Bogota, however, all is again new, English is hard to come by. I put myself in the hands of taxi driver at the airport. He was lovely and treated me fairly, kindly, even, but not a great way to travel in a ´dangerous´country.