Chez Dakar Motos
With the bike out of customs, the next day was dedicated to sorting the paperwork. Looking for stationery shops and having photocopies made of all the new documents gave me the opportunity to meet more of the helpful inhabitants of San Telmo.
Then it was back to the headquarters of the bike insurance company to receive the policies for the other countries I was going to travel to; not only Argentina but also Uruguay, Brazil, Paraguay, Bolivia and Chile were covered by the same contract.
¡Fantastico!
On the way to the office near the Diagonal Norte I came across one of the many demonstrations that happen in the Argentinean capital. Taking photographs is usually frowned upon but John had told me that tourists are exempt from this rule - phew...
Buenos Aires is a fascinating mixture of beauty and decay which I personally like very much - here you see colonial architecture…
… and there ruins just at the next corner
Parking in the city centre is difficult and not particularly safe, so there are lots of guarded car parks about. I was lucky to have one of these places right on the other side of the road from my hotel. This is Miguel who looked after my bike (and a few other cars, I think...) and who invited me to the first
Mate of my trip. Mate is the Argentinean national drink and you should never decline if you are invited to share it.
Finally packed and ready to leave downtown for Vicente Lopéz, I entered Sandra and Javier’s address in the GPS - et voilà: only 14 minutes to Dakar Motos apparently. Right, on the eight lanes of the Avenida 9 de Julio I already missed the first turning to the left. A local bus driver pulled intimidatingly close, opened the door and helpfully suggested that I should just ride over the traffic island. Mmm, with a fully loaded bike and my foot still weak and hurting, that might not have been a wise move...
So I let the GPS recalculate and took the northern loop along the sea front and the Aeroparque, the national airport of Buenos Aires. Of course, it was just around five o'clock and the rush hour in full flow. As mentioned before, even the cars are filtering in this city, so there was no chance of slipping through with my big panniers. Coming to a hold was struggle enough, as I didn't dare to put sudden weight onto my left foot.
While waiting in the stationary traffic I suddenly noticed a familiar smell: fuel... Oh no, not again! It didn't help in this situation that I hadn't filled up since releasing the bike from the airport (you are only allowed to leave less than a quarter of fuel in the tank). So I could only hope that I would still make it to Dakar Motos. Whilst crawling along together, many friendly drivers and riders pointed out that I was leaking - but what was I supposed to do? I was on the outer side of the road because I had to turn left soon and after that, stopping on a fast five-lane motorway without any hard shoulder in sight was just not an option.
Literally on the last drop and one hour late I finally arrived at Calle Carlos Tejedor 1379 where I received a very warm welcome from Sandra and Javier. They introduced me to the already resident RTW travellers Adrian (from Australia) and Mick (from Denmark) and after a few hours of lively chat I decided to stay not one but two nights at this friendly place.
Mick, Sandra and Adrian at Dakar Motos
*****
The local
supermercado nearby was open all day every day and sold everything we needed for a hearty breakfast the next morning.
This photo I took especially for my beloved Possu who swears by the original...
Life is good at Dakar Motos
Breakfast in the sun
The day was spent on bike maintenance and little adjustments. The previous evening Javier had stated that he doesn't work Saturdays, so here he is probably just enjoying himself fiddling with Adrian's KLR 650.
To avoid future fuel leaks once and for all, I replaced the old fuel pipe with a new one (which Possu had thoughtfully advised me to buy prior to departure) and fitted another filter from Javier's workshop. This bigger version would certainly be better suited for filtering dirty
gasolina sold from rusty oil drums in the more remote areas of South America.
Dakar Motos seems to be a popular meeting place for the local biker community. We were introduced to a wide spectrum of the
moteros of Buenos Aires.
Amongst them was Fabrizio who rides a restored 1949 Norton with all the trimmings.
He is also a very nice and helpful guy, here siphoning a spare litre out of his tank to enable me to reach the nearest filling station.
Then, as the icing of the cake and to make my bike ready for the South American roads, Javier added his personal signature. Been there, got the sticker...
We really had a brilliant time together and it would have been so easy to stay another day and maybe another one after that - in the company of like-minded motorcyclists and in the comfort of this home-like place so far away from Europe. After all, I had already made the first step and travelled to a different continent; so what was another day which would give me some additional time to build up a bit more courage before venturing into the great unknown?
“Don't be such a wuss”, I told myself off, “that's what you have come over here for and four months will be shorter than you think!” Alright, the decision was made and I went for a last dinner with Adrian. Nice guy, really, but you have to watch your olives - we shared a pizza and I dropped one of my olives. In a fraction of a millisecond Adrian's fork swooped down and before I could say "Oi!" it was gone. How we laughed...
Outside the pizzeria we found a look-alike of the famous
Australian Postie bikes which made Adrian feel a bit like home.
*****
On Sunday morning I captured the last impressions of the empty streets of Vicente-Lopéz - Calle San Martin
Good idea: kill poverty - not the poor...
Then I packed the bike, waved goodbye to Adrian and Mick and hit the road...
*****
By the way, if you want to know what these great guys are up to you can follow their trips on the following sites:
Mick started his RTW trip in his home country Denmark and has been on the road since 2009. He has travelled through Europe and down the west coast of Africa. From Buenos Aires he will ride his VFR down to Patagonia and then up on the Pacific side.
ATWJ - MHoey.eu
Adrian was from Australia and just embarking on a RTW trip which would have taken him north from Buenos Aires to New York. From there he was going to ship his KLR 650 to London and then head east to the next coast. Adrian's Motorcycle Diaries -
Adriankemmis.blogspot.com.
Sadly Adrian was killed five weeks later in a
road accident in Brazil. He was only 30 years old and such a nice young man – full of enthusiasm, open and eager to learn about the world, just starting to live his dream and having the time of his life. A terrible loss. RIP, my fellow traveller...
.
.... baited breath for next installment
Well, Chris insisted on giving me one as a present and I, my family and friends will be forever grateful for his generosity – we all could sleep better in the months that followed. 
