All the way south

"Duuude! You look like a hobo." Those were the welcoming words that greeted me when I emerged from arrivals at Mexico City's main airport, the words of my great friend Daniel, who himself was on a bit of a trip, returning to his native country for a few months to work on a personal project. I hadn't realised just how much my beard had grown, growing from hipster to homeless in the three months since I saw him last, and his reaction was probably justified. The trip started as it would mostly proceed and end, with lots of eating. We stopped off at a chain called Casa de Toño to sample some pozole rojo  (soup), with some flautas  and a little taco thrown in for good measure. It was a lot of food, but holy crap...flavor! Variety! Spice! Parts of my tongue were tingling, parts that hadn't tingled in months. Daniel had always hyped up the food in Mexico, and it made a spectacular start in living up to expectations. I was already looking forward to the next meal. W

In winter on the Antarctic peninsula, it gets so cold that even the sea freezes over. Frozen seawater makes getting around easier, and once upon a time it allowed three British scientists from the Faraday Antarctic research base to ski their way across the solid sea ice to spend some leisure time away from the base. Around about the time they reached Petermann Island, six miles away, a big storm kicked up and broke up the sea ice. They had radio contact from a hut on the island. At first, they provided updates every day. Then once a week. Then once a fortnight. Eventually, they cut contact altogether. With constant inclement weather and pack ice remaining on the water, it was a long period of time before their location could be reached. By the time it was, they were already presumed dead. When rescuers entered the hut, the one you see above, all they found were penguin feet nailed to the tables. Presumably they had gone mad from hunger and isolation. This was in 1982. Hearing this

Buenos Aires My 20 hours or so in Buenos Aires was no more than a glorified stopover, but I managed to pack in a lot in that time. Yet another sleepy late night landing, with dinner still to eat, meant I forked out for a direct taxi to my hostel, and upgraded to a private room when I got there. In a couple of days I was going to be sharing an Antarctic ship cabin with two other random guys, so some alone time beforehand justified the expense. My hostel was right in the middle of the San Telmo district, a bohemian area hopping with bars, plazas, and tango. After quickly checking in, I strolled out at 10pm, navigating the easy grid system of streets to the Argentinian asado (barbecue steak) place one of the hostel staff recommended. I failed in finding it, but I wasn't short for other options that late at night. I settled for a brewpub, and had a delicious brewed on premise IPA along with a burger. I had heard that Buenos Aires was quite similar to a modern European city,