From the moment my friend called and said she would help with my ticket, it was a mad rush to pack everything and leave that very instant. It started with a 5 hour drive from San Carlos to Salta with Niz and her father. He was leaving for Tilcara that day, so we could get to Salta with him and stay at the place where we first stayed together when I first got there. The lovely house of Miguel. England were playing that night, and I got all proud hoping they would show some lions pride, then to see them beaten was saddening. The drive to Salta through the mountains is always spectacular. They have changed shape through millions of years of Sun and Rain. They look like giant man made sculptures. Truly natures gallery.
The bus started its journey and a guy came round giving us all a sandwhich, galletitas and coca cola, I thought 'oooh this is nice'. Then a TV screen came down and they started playing a film, I thought 'Oooh, what could this be?' It turns out it was a film called 'Seal Team Six' and it was about the 'killing' of Osama Bin Laden. It really reminded me of one of those Nazi propaganda films that were written to stir up military support and patriotism of the great imaginary militant victories. I thought this was a strange choice, as it made sleeping impossible. Every few minutes, loud gun fire and screaming would be booming through the speakers, waking the child asleep on her mothers breast opposite me. It got about 2 thirds the way through and then started to skip and the disk failed. I only caught the last few minutes of it, but it was a strange film, truly.
The next was a Spanish dubbed version of A Will Smith Thriller involving aliens and a dog. And yes, the soundtrack of screams and gunshots were continued. This only lasted 20 or so minutes before the disk failed, and for an hour it slowly skipped along, playing mili seconds of flickering guns and screams and then they switched it off. It was starting to get dark, maybe about 6 hours in and we still hadn't stopped for a break to smoke. I was getting wound up a little bit, because then the next film was this Sylvester Stallone film, called 'Bullet Through The Head' again, it was dubbed in Spanish, but the familiar soundtrack of guns and screams still ever prevalent. It was after this film had finished, (the only one so far to play completely from start to finish) that the DVD menu was on a loop for about half an hour. You know when it loops a music and it cuts and loops constantly. This was sending me loco, and I thought 'Fuck this, I'm gonna smoke a ciggie in the toilet' I went to the toilet and seen a window and some ash and thought 'Ahhhhhhhhh'. I lit up the most delicous cigarette I could probably ever have tasted and get a bang on the door. I flick the ciggie out the window and say 'Ola?' No response so I spark up another, that never tastes as good as that first interupted ciggie, but still did the job of de-stressing me. I walk up the stairs to my seat and find the DVD loop off, and a cozier atmosphere. I sit down, close my eyes and the bus stops for a break.
We step out into this truck stop and I immedietely get a Quillmes cerveza and pour it down my neck. Smoking another 3 cigarettes, I walk to a stall nearby and buy some chocolates and crisps and another cerveza, Argentina are playing their match and the religous atmosphere attached to football was thick as ever. They scored a goal, we all cheered, I bought one more cerveza for the road and got back on the bus. They insisted on putting another film on, I sighed but then it actually looked quite good. Some time travel bull shit propaganda, but a cut above the ones previous, and in English. They had even lowered the volume, I could just about make it out, and then these 3 muchachos sitting right behind decided it was time for their party. They slept and snored through the whole journey up to now, and just as I was about to get some shut eye, they bring out the beers and start talking loud, right down my ear. I was cursing them in English, using my guitar as a pillow I sat through the next 6 hours with my eyes closed, not sleeping but just on standby mode. You are always awoken by a bump or a voice, usually just as you are drifting off.
Morning light was rising, and we were approaching Buenos Aires, I hurried to get off the bus as it stopped. My knees ache because I'm so tall and the seats are so small. Still groggy and sleepy I stretch my legs, light a cigarette and just pick a direction to walk. I had 14 hours until my flight to Madrid, first thing first...Un Cafe, por favor. A nice coffee for a bit of energy at a lovely little cafe. Seeing Buenos Aires like this was incredible. Such a huge city, and after being in the North, were the towns are tiny and underdeveloped, to come to this city was a taste of what Europe is, the busy bees, the traffic, the fast flow of city life, from the slow paced beauty of the rhythm of the desert.
I found a metro and headed towards where I needed to get to for the bus. But first I had a Lomita, a steak sandwhich with egg and cheese, one of my favourite meals in Argentina, and this one was huge and delicous. I took a walk to 'El Torres De Inglais' (The Tower of the English) Which was quite fitting for me, I smoked yet another cigarette, it was a beautiful day and the city looked so wonderful. When I arrived in Buenos Aires in January, it was heavy grey and wet. The bus took a route going through all kinds of ugly buildings, and sad hanging trees. But seeing her like this was so beautiful.
My Spanish was coming along good aswell, it was a necessity in Argentina for me. Niz speaks perfect English, and would translate everything, and give me lessons (She loved being the teacher :) And I was quiet confident with conversations and ordering things. I found the bus service that takes you to the airport and got a ticket. I went to the airport and got ready to 'kill' 9 hours. It was slow, making an expensive beer last an hour until its warm and flat and tastes terrible, watching Germany destroy Portugal in the world cup, wondering around, trying to find coins to phone Niz, just killing time. I think that is the most tiring thing about travelling, is waiting for time to pass. Willing hours to wash away, and they always do. Time never stops, and when you are at the beginining of your journey, you think 'Will I ever get to the finish line?' And you always do. Time is one continually moving moment, that never stops.
The time for check in came, and I did the usual routine of baggage checks and security pass points. Stepping on the plane for Madrid I could feel that one step closer to Europa. I would get these twinges in my heart and stomach, just wishing Niz was with me. We thought we would do this journey together and come back married, but it was not meant to be at that moment so you have to keep strong and focused, but the twinges of missing her were hurting. But I knew I would be in a better position financially to make money in Europe. All the money had gone in the desert house, and it was tough times, I felt like I couldn't bring home the bread. The winds were howling, the little vino town of Cafayate, empty. I felt I was doing the right thing, but it hurt to be on my own.
I get to my seat on the plane, sigh that the waiting is over and find right in front of me one of those wild children, screaming and making horrible noises, crawling over people and pulling things from the seats. I look at the little brat with a stare that says 'Sit down and shut the fuck up, I am not in the mood for you' The creature retreated to its mothers arms and would be quiet for while then pop his head round for another stare out. It's horrible, that just as you are dropping off to sleep the noise of a scream wakes you up again. You get irritated after 36 hours of that. The flight lady came round with headphones and I put them straight in and loud, watched some Lord of The Rings and a sailing documentary and slept maybe a couple of hours before the morning cries of the 2 demon children woke me up.
We were nearly in Madrid, where it was 5 hours ahead. So setting off at 9pm at night and arriving at 2pm the next day, wasn't so bad. The long haul flights are quite comfortable (apart from the kids). We touch down at Madrid, and the next step for me was to try and have a ciggie before we changed for London. I went through this maze of Escalators only to be faced with a one way Que for immigration. I was supposed to be changing over, so I didn't need to do this, I gave up on the cigarette, went through immigration then just made it to the platform as the plane was boarding for London.
Aching and tired, smelling and feeling so hungry I got on the seat and just collapsed to sleep. It was 3 hours to London and it went by in a flash. I had a window seat, but couldn't keep my eyes open long enough to see the view. The plane touches down in London, and I step onto English soil. From the plane I seen how green she was as we were landing. I had gotten so used to sand and stones and cactus that seeing good fertile old blighty made me smile. Though we may hate the rain, but it has been a major reason for Northern Europe developing so quickly into massive countries. When you can grow good crops and flowers and plants, you will expand. When food is hard to grow, expansion is slow. The sky was smeared with jet trails though, almost filling up all the blue with grey. Always sad to see this, in Argentina the skies were clear blue every single day, with a few fluffy clouds. Never overcast, and never filled with smears from jets.
I am waiting for customs in a big line, and as I approach the front I see one woman with a really bad face, I think to myself 'God, I hope I don't get her' as this thought was leaving my head, her eyes called me over... 'Ola' I say with as much niceness I can muster after 48 hours of travelling. 'Where have you been?' she asks, her hand holding a pen, and her eyes searching for something she thinks I may be hiding. 'Argentina' I say politley back 'With my girlfriend' 'How long where you there?' 5 months I say, and she asks me to take a seat over there, while she takes my passport in another room.
I sit for maybe 4 minutes on this chair, smiling to myself. I am still running on an energy from somewhere just to get me home. She comes towards me and says 'Ok, thank you, here is your passport' And watches me go to collect my luggage. I wait for the luggage with the same old thoughts running through my head. What if its gone, what have I lost, and so on' But there it came. My good old Carlton International case. I pick it up and head for the exit when I hear 'Can you come with us please, sir?' The woman at the customs had told them to wait till I pick up my bag to then search me. I say sure thing.....
We head over to the room and they start going through my case, asking me what have I been doing in Argentina. I suddenly felt this proud energy come over me, and I tell them that I have been making the best album of my life, with the love of my life. They probe more, and the more they probe the more impassioned I become. They ask me about my life, my music, everything and I tell thim with such an enthusiasm about making music and understanding life that I have a small crowd gathered round me. My voice booming as I tell them that the atmosphere in airports is so sad as it is filled with people wishing time away, that you become grey if you stay there too long. They try and get little jibes at my life, going through my notebooks full of lyrics reading them, me telling them what that song meant and such. I was truly shining, and at the end they said 'We should be doing what your doing' I smiled, said Adios and found the nearest door to light a much needed cigarette.
I found a train that was heading to the underground, and I jumped on with no ticket. A guard came up after 2 stops and asked for ticket. I told him how my card had gone through the washing machine and it only works with swipe. He said no problem, he can swipe. Then when he said 26 quid, I nearly vomited in his face. I said 'What! Mate, I only have 20 quid in my account, and thats to get some food and get to Liverpool, I was expecting 4 quid!' I told him of my journey, and he said 'Don't worry mate, it's all good and just walked on. I sighed and got ready to get to the underground and to the coach station. Arriving at Kings Gate, I tried my card to no avail, then noticed an open ticket booth, I just walked straight in and got on the subway. Getting out I just jumped behind some guy with a suitcase like it was the most natural thing in the world.
London Victoria. This is always the place I am in in London. Where the coaches go, I had a few hours to kill before my bus to Liverpool and went to a sainsburys. I told them about my card, that it needs to swipe, I had picked up some nice egg and bacon buttys, crisps chocolate and fruit drink. Card Error Card Error, please swipe. I swiped, and it worked! Phew, I was so hungry. I sat in the middle of the street, gutzed my buttys and drank my Cerveza (San Miguel) Next up was a 6 hour bus ride to Liverpool. I got on, found the back seat and just collapsed. The megabus sleeps are hard. Virtually impossible to get comfy with my legs. I rested then got to Liverpool at 4 in the morning. How I love to see it so tranquil and empty about to awake. I walk to the docks and look at my home town of the Wirral from accross the river. Always looks so beautiful, it was a lovely warm morning, I played my guitar for an hour and waited till the trains started running.
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