The glamorous – the flossy, flossy

Fergie may be sipping champagne up in the sky, but we've been sipping Coke and watching DVDs down on the road.

Introducing ' super cama', the first class of the Argentinian long-haul buses. Seats convert into flat beds, meals and drinks are served and DVDs are played. It's so much fun, we didn't want to get off after our 18-hour trip from Buenos Aires to Puerto Iguazu. Best of all, it's only marginally dearer than a normal, run-of-the-mill coach, meaning we can squeeze a little luxury into our hostel-dwelling, backpack-hauling, bread-eating existence.

Fergie, eat your heart out!

Holy cow!

Read and drool, people – read and drool...

The line-up for a table was spilling onto the street when we arrived for our first taste of Argentina's world-famous steak. Somehow, despite not having a reservation, we managed to nab an outside table for two.

'The restaurant recommends sharing a meal between two,' it said at the bottom of the menu in fine italic print. 'Pfft,' scoffed Craig. 'I'm not sharing with anyone!'

We ordered a bottle of wine, a steak each and a side of chips.

Then, after a good half an hour, it arrived. The hugest, most gimongous, giganticast steak I have ever laid eyes on in my life, surrounded by a myriad of sauces, and it was plonked straight down in front of Craig. When mine came out, and it wasn't much smaller, all we could do was laugh... and eat.

Our mission: to eat meat. Outcome: successful.

There were people waiting for a table who offered to help Craig out with his, obviously not believing it was humanly possible for one man to eat such a large hunk of steak, but he was having none of it. He was going to eat the entire thing, even if it took him all night.

While I struggled to eat all my tender juicy steaks, covered in bacon strips, Craig ploughed on, stopping only to comment on how 'awesome' his was.

Not one to be beaten (especially when it comes to challenges of the eating kind), much to the shock, horror and admiration of the waiting diners, Craig did eat his entire steak.

And boy, was it good.

Steak, tango and an eccentric 60-something

Sunshine, blue skies and one super-cool city. It took us over 32 hours in transit (walk, bus, plane, plane, taxi) to get there, but boy was it worth it.

We had no idea what to expect of Buenos Aires (or the entire South American continent for that matter!), but what we found was a clean, vibrant city that was begging to be explored.

Short on pay-a-fortune-to-look-at-something-for-five-minutes attractions, our days were filled with pounding the pavements – our feet blistered from Havaiana shock – exploring the different suburbs that make up the Argentinian capital.

We devoured cheap choripans (chorizo sandwiches) like we hadn't tasted red meat for a year (which isn't far from the truth, thanks England) and ate ice-cream in the park in the city, watched people tango on the streets and admired the multi-coloured buildings in rough La Boca, ate succulent, gigantuous steaks in Palermo, naively walked to dodgy and dangerous Retiro to buy bus tickets and explored the eerily beautiful Recoleta cemetery.

Oh, and I almost forgot – Dereck! The crazy old dude that was living in our hostel, who took us to an old Catholic church at midnight to watch locals and people from around the world tango. While Dereck turned out to be a total weirdo, the actual experience was one to remember.

Gracias, Buenos Aires. Gracias.