I was wishin' I was a sailor...

Because according to the above picture they have a designated home! (click on picture to enlarge)

We will start with "frozen food" as my mom, after hearing our stories, has nicknamed our first hotel. In fact, it was not a hotel, nor was it even a hostal. It was an apartment in an old house, converted in to this guest house of sorts. We arrived at 3:30, only to find a note on the door with the owner's cell phone number. Great. It's boiling hot, we have walked a 1/2 mile to find our little guest home in San Telmo and the "duena" is out to lunch. Of course we have no cell phone, so we take refuge at the near by gas station. After our second attempt, the owner answers the phone. She apologizes, and tells us she is on her way. We naively think this means she be there in a couple of minutes and so we leave the aire conditioned mini mart and venture out into the baking sun again. Twenty minutes later she shows up. By now our faces are a nice rosy red. El Torero's from the sun, and mine from frustration.

The apartment was basically clean and comfortable. However, some things we were not told: Our room faced a very busy street with buses passing by every half hour or so. Second, she did not actually have wireless internet access like the website said, what she had was an old computer with a fuzzy screen located in her room upstairs. She wasn't actually there all day to give directions, advice on what to see, etc. And the breakfast that was included? Bread rolls from the freezer.

Ok fine, we thought we could deal. But after a night of buses passing under the window every 30 minutes, our room keys unable to lock our doors (is that asking too much?) and ET's discovery there was a CAT lingering around the apartment, we decided we could find better.

But could we?