Around the World in 80 Girls: The Epic 3 Year Trip of a Backpacking Casanova (39 page)

I
was crazy about Charlize; she was a true rock chick and always wore tight black pants and a t-shirt with a print of Iron Maiden, Testament or some band I had never heard of. That week we went to several places in and around Buenos Aires. We went to San Telmo, the Hard Rock café, a cemetery for prominent Argentineans where we saw the grave of Eva Peron, the famous first lady. We had a picnic in the park; we went to Tigre, a small town close to Buenos Aires which lies in a sort of river delta.

Around
midnight we would go to a love hotel and make love all night. The early busting was a one-time only thing and we couldn’t get enough of each other. On one night she wanted to stay in the dorm but was very shy about sleeping in my bed while others were around. I slept in a lower bunk bed and used the sheet of the upper bed to cover the side so no one could peek in. She came into my bed and we started kissing, I used my fingers to get her off and afterwards she gave me a blowjob. I was lying very unconformable and asked her to move a bit. The bed was squeaky and made a lot of noise and she wouldn’t move. I asked her again, she said no and we got into an argument and she left the bed without finishing the job. We both went to sleep in our own bed and the next day she left early to do some sightseeing on her own.

I
thought I had fucked everything up and wrote her a private message on Facebook. It was a pretty beta letter where I explained the situation and said I was sorry for being a rude dick to her. I don’t believe in being strictly alpha or beta. Being a strict alpha means being an asshole most of the time and never admitting a mistake. I think it’s better and wiser to act with a mix of both. This trip for me was more about alpha-ing up than totally eliminating the beta in me. It’s better to think smart and keep things going than to be stubborn and miss out on opportunities. I call this being Bepha.

After
she read my letter everything was ok again and we went to a hard rock bar called The Red Bell, and to Luján Zoo the next morning. Normally I don’t like going to a zoo in poor countries but this one was well-kept. A woman with enormous cleavage sold bags of bread and corn to feed the animals and I went to buy some twice just to have a look at those gigantic knockers. She wasn’t much to look at but man, would I enjoy motorboating those babies for a while.

The
last evening we went back to the big metallic flower, a giant flower made of shiny metal in a park. We brought some food and drinks and it was supposed to be romantic picnic, but after a few minutes we were kicked out by the guards who were closing the park for the night.

We
walked around a bit, with me doing the “Look at this move” all the time, and we started making out heavier and heavier. She was wearing a jean skirt and when I felt under it her panties were soaking wet. She said she fantasized about outside sex a lot and we went looking for a quiet spot. It can be just a bit difficult to find a quiet spot to get naked in a big city like Buenos Aires. There’s traffic and people walking around at all hours of the day and we had to look for a good spot. We finally found a place in the bushes next to the train tracks. She pulled my pants down and freed my boner who was gasping for air the last hour. Charlize was so impatient and horny that she almost seemed aggressive. I pulled down her skirt and really gave it to her from behind.

A
long train came past and made lots of noise and she screamed loud. I swear to this day people in the train saw us fucking even though we were kind of standing hidden in the bushes. We came at the same time and it was perfect, Charlize mentioned this moment for ages after we had said goodbye to each other later.

It was time for me
to fly to Santiago in Chile. My plan was to go there, see the Chilean guys I hung out with in Russia and travel south from there, crossing the Argentinean border and going up again from. I kissed Charlize goodbye and promised her I would see her again in Sau Paulo, where she lived. She was about to leave too, on a flight to Foz de Iguazu, a Brazilian city close to Puerto de Iguazu.

I
had to really hurry up in the morning because I was late and the international airport was at least one-and-a-half hour by metro and bus. When I got there I couldn’t find my flight on the boards anywhere. I went to the information counter and showed my E-ticket. They told me I was at the wrong airport! I had to go to the small airport close to where I lived. I couldn’t believe it. It was a flight to a different country; by definition, it was an international flight. So of course I presumed it would leave from the big international airport I had arrived eleven days before. It was too late already and I went back to the hostel. I felt no disappointment, though. This meant that I could spend more time with Charlize and could even go with her to her next destination: Puerto de Iguazu.

Argentina – Puerto de Iguazu

The Argentinean bus was luxurious but expensive. Eighty-five dollars is a whole lot of money for a bus ride and I didn’t think it was justified even though it was eighteen hours and you got some food and drinks on the bus. Jeremy, a guy I had met in the hostel who was going in the same direction, and I arrived in Puerto de Iguazu and went looking for the guesthouse where Charlize was staying. On the way there we saw a hot waitress and noted down the place to eat there later. Charlize had booked a dorm room at the hostel but changed that to a normal room as soon as she knew I was coming there too. We shared the costs and for the first time we could enjoy each other company without having to stay in a dorm or going to an overpriced love hotel. Jeremy was a really nice guy and I invited him to come with us to the famous waterfalls of Iguazu.

The
town of Iguazu is built on the triple border of Argentina, Brazil and Paraguay. The Iguazu waterfalls are the biggest in the world and make Niagara look like a small stream – at least, according to a few American tourists there. The waterfalls are gigantic and really amazing.

We
decided to have dinner in that evening and bought groceries. Charlize is a vegetarian and I don’t mind eating a vegetarian meal every once in a while as long as I can eat my manly meat too. But we got into an argument anyway. An argument about onions. Onions, of all things. She wanted to cook pasta but chop up two whole onions in it along with a whole lot of other vegetables. I said one was enough because I didn’t want to stink and we got into a fight over it. We didn’t speak for several hours, we’re both that headstrong. I was so angry that I almost packed up my bags and moved to a dorm room. Later I figured I’d acted childishly and should keep the peace, because I did want to stay with her. I was damn hungry too, and I didn’t want to go out and spend extra money on a restaurant, so I told her that I didn’t want to have a silly argument over food. She must have thought she’d overreacted too, because she only put in one onion and even cooked some meat for me.

Was
I a pussy for giving in to her? I don’t think so; it gave me an excellent view into what the future would be like if I was ever became serious with her. That doesn’t mean a guy should act like a mangina or listen to the feminist crap you hear on television or see in the movies all day. A man should be a man but a man also needs to eat.

Charlize
and I went to Foz de Iguazu the next day, and it was my first short visit to Brazil. I already liked the country after passing the border. Loads of hot girls with big bundas and I liked the typical rice and beans meals we bought there. The bus didn’t even stop at the Brazil border and I didn’t get a stamp in my passport.

We
went back the next day and passed on through to Ciudad del Este in Paraguay. We had to cross the big bridge to Paraguay by motorbike because according to the Lonely Planet book it was too dangerous to walk across. We did some shopping there and Charlize said that everything was dirt cheap there and that many Brazilians living in the south go there to buy cheap electronics and consumer stuff. She bought so many bottles of lotion and perfume that she needed to buy an extra small backpack to carry it all.

On
the way back we were stopped by border control and they checked our bags. I was sweating because I didn’t stamp my passport at both the Brazilian and the Paraguayan border. Luckily he didn’t check my passport, just the bag.

We
went back once more to Paraguay to hang around and do shopping

We
went over the bridge again by motorbike taxi. When we returned I said to Charlize that I wanted to have the stamps in my passport and I walked across the big bridge back to Paraguay. Got a nice entry stamp in my passport, crossed the road and walked back again to get my exit stamp. Nothing happened at all on the bridge, no robberies or hassles like described in the Lonely Planet. Yet another myth had been busted, although I won’t advise to try it after dark.

Charlize
and I said goodbye the following morning when she had to fly back to Sau Paulo. I promised to visit her once I reached Sau Paulo and she said I could stay at her place. I was happy to hear that because Brazil isn’t a cheap destination for a holiday.

I
went back to Brazil the same day by myself and visited the Itapu dam. It wasn’t easy to get there on my own. Except for the people at the dam I didn’t meet anyone who spoke a bit of English and even my Spanish was misunderstood all the time. But that was probably my own fault since I barely spoke any. The Itapu dam is the world’s second largest hydro dam and it’s interesting to see how they harnessed the awesome power of water. I battled myself a way back through local buses and the Brazilian and Argentina border and met a nice guy back in the hostel in Puerto de Iguazu. His name was Larry and he was an American from San Francisco. He was on a short trip of a few months through South America. A fun guy to hang out with but also up for a real conversation.

My
little romance with Charlize had brought back my fighting spirit out regarding girls but I felt guilty about going out that night and going hunting for local poon. We stayed in and played Gran Turisimo 3 half the night on the Playstation in the guesthouse.

Larry
was on his way down south and we decided to go there together. We took a bus to Rosario, the place where the hottest girls in Argentina come from. I had read on the Internet that it had a five-to-one girl-guy ratio. Larry and I talked about picking up girls and I mentioned my site.

We
met the hottest girl cop ever at a road block. We were almost the only guys in the bus and she checked our passports. To this day I regret not acting like a damn tourist and coming up with a silly story so I could take a picture with her. She was an eight in looks and probably one of the cutest girls I had ever seen in my life. She looked sexy in her uniform and I daydreamed about her arresting me.

Argentina – Rosario

Larry and I stayed in a shitty hostel in Rosario and talked about girls. I had just read a booklet about picking up Argentinean girls written by Roosh. This booklet however had scared the living daylights out of me. It described a sort of girl I had not yet encountered on my trip: the coldhearted Latina chick, nearly impossible to pick up, with a bitch shield up to the roof and who would not reply to your texts or calls.

A
large amount of time, a social circle and even lots of money was needed to get with one of these girls. They were considered the hardest of the hard to pick up and I feared that my plans of picking one up were out the door. I had no money or a social circle there; I don’t have a great style in clothes. Hell, I look like what I am, a travelling backpacker bum.

We
went out that night and couldn’t find any place to go. We were there during the week and pretty much all bars were closed down or there was little to do inside. We changed hostels the next day and found a livelier one. During the day we walked around the city a bit, looked at some sights and took pictures. We tried to day game a bit but were too scared to even approach some girls. We walked around the city and every time we saw a cute girl we tried to push each other to open her. I made one half-assed attempt to talk to a girl but her English was very bad. Larry helped out a bit since his Spanish was a lot better than mine. It led nowhere but it gave me a little boost.

Day-gaming
is only for the strong and I had almost never done it. It is damn hard to just walk up to a girl in the street and start talking; it is hard in your own country but when you’re in a country where not many people speak English it really makes you self-conscious and you feel like an instant moron sometimes. My approach anxiety went through the roof.

The
stories were true, though: we saw an unbelievable number of hotties and not that many guys around. We even asked a taxi driver and the hostel owner about the girl ratio and they both confirmed that there were way more girls than guys.

In
the afternoon Larry came up with the idea of using the Internet to find some girls. He logged on and sent out about thirty messages to girls on a website called Couchsurfing. I told him that I thought it was only for staying at their houses but Larry said you could also use this website to meet people for coffee.

A
few hours later a couple of girls replied to his email and they came to meet us. They were two sisters and one of them was good–looking, but no stunner. We went out to an Irish pub and ate a pizza and drank some beers. I tried to game the younger sister but failed. She went home while her older sister stayed with us. We went to play some pool and later went bowling at the same place. The three of us had a lot of fun that night and I noted down that I had to start using this website myself.