The plane was delayed for 4 hours. We sat on it for 16 - 1 of which was spent on the runway at Sao Paulo. Luckily, sleep, "The Other Guys" and "Tamara Drewe" made it more or less bearable. That, and the fact that it was taking me on a 14 week holiday.

As I stepped out of the plane, on the the steps to the runway, I watched the ground advance with excitement. As my foot hit South America for the first time, a bolt of euphoria reverberated through my soul - the beat of the tango, the bloodied legacy of the conquistodors, the freedom of the gauchos, with the warm Patagonian wind on their face - like a space out of time and body, the whole of Argentina, of South America, was there thudding through my veins. No, of course it bloody wasn´t. It just felt like stepping onto hot concerete. But I´m meant to say somethng like that, aren´t I? On my travels? It´s just been so long.

Off the hot concrete, a long wait in immigration, ink staining my new passport for the first time. Cash out of the machine, and a pleasant taxi ride to our hotel in Buenos Aires, a nice little boutiquey thingy on Palmero Hollywood, recommended by Matt.

I´m being rushed out to supper now by George (it´s a couple of days later), but quickly I´d just like to share with you the obsession she´s developed over the last 48 hours (sweatily wandering through BA´s sweltering streets) about the beauty of certain Argentinian women. It´s reached such a level, that I have felt obliged to try and understand what it´s about. So, I have studied their long, olive brown legs, clad only slightly in denin shorts, their tumbling black hair and their plunging necklines, and I´m at a loss. I can´t see it at all, and shall have to try harder. Right, steak.