Love and the Giant

The Linger Loco!

Chapter 2: Love and the Giant

It’s two o’clock in the afternoon and we’re crossing the Rio

de la Plata on a voyage to Colonia del Sacramento, a historic

smuggler town in Uruguay west of Montevideo. The

large Buquebus car-ferry is remarkably quiet considering

it’s the height of summer in Argentina, and watching the

impressive Buenos Aires skyline slowly disappearing in

the distance I feel a strong sensation that our journey has

finally begun.

Snapping a few pictures of Chris trying to look cool on

deck with his hair flapping around in front of his face, we

head inside the boat and claim a couple of comfy seats in

front of the telly. Just as I’m about to settle down for the

journey and read my book, I look to my left and notice an

old man slouched in a wheelchair with a blanket over his

knees. He looks to be in his late eighties and is accompanied

by a woman, who I would imagine is his daughter. I can

see he is in pain by the way he fidgets restlessly in his seat

and moans quietly to himself. Feeling sorry for the guy, I

wonder what’s going through his mind as he sits there

staring at the floor. All of a sudden an attractive woman in

tight jeans catwalks past him and, as if a magical force has

shot through his fragile body, he lifts up his head and

locks onto her ass like a satellite guided missile. A smile

the size of the Amazon jungle appears across his wrinkled

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face, and the pain appears to miraculously disappear from

his weak joints. He admires the girl’s butt cheeks as if they

were a couple of juicy 16-oz rump steaks, but sadly nothing

lasts forever and the perfect ass turns a sharp corner

and vanishes out of sight. The old man looks vacant for a

second, his eyes begin to roll and with a groan his head

drops forward and he returns to staring at the floor. I turn

to nudge Chris, but find he is fast asleep – his head hanging

down as he puffs air and snores gently, much in the same

way as the old man.

After watching the TV for a while and walking around the

ferry a couple of times, I’m surprised to see Uruguay fast

approaching. I race back to my seat and see people moving

towards the exit doors. Poking Chris in the ribs, his eyes

spring open and he looks deeply confused for a few seconds

as he tries to gauge his whereabouts. Collecting our

bags together, we stand in the aisle before following the

other passengers to the exit. I spot the old man in his

wheelchair at the front of the queue, with his chin resting

against his chest as he stares vacantly at the floor. The sexy

woman with the pert backside from earlier is stood close

behind him; not long now old man and the pain will soon

disappear once more. The ferry doors open and everyone

quickly heads down the gangplank. We shuffle our way

through the terminal and collect our rucksacks from the

carousel and head through customs to receive our prize of

a new stamp in our passports. Exiting the terminal we stand

outside for a few minutes and observe our surroundings.

‘So this is Colonia?’ I smile.

‘It sure is,’ Chris nods, smelling the sea air, ‘a smugglers

haven throughout the Seventeenth Century. British goods

were smuggled across the Rio de la Plata into the Spanish

Colonies from Colonia for a hundred years.’

‘Wow, I love all that smuggler pirate shit.’

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‘Yeah, me too, it sounds glamorous, doesn’t it? Hey, did

you know there are still pirates in existence today?’

‘Really?’

‘Yep, ships and their cargo are constantly getting robbed

in the Philippines and Africa.’

‘Cool, do they still fight with sharp swords?’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because they’ve got AK47′s!’

Beneath a glorious blue sky we march up a hill through

the quiet streets of the historic town. We pass a couple of

moped hire shops and eventually arrive at a tourist information

office, where we grab a handful of leaflets and

continue our stroll along Avenue General Flores. Hi-fiving

the old men drinking their Yerba Maté (a South American

evergreen tea) who are feeding the parakeets in the quaint

Plaza 25 de Agosto, we make our way to a small hotel a

mere 50 yards from the sea. It’s a beautiful peach coloured

colonial building with a quiet, neat garden out the back.

The delightful sweet smelling aromas of flowers and freshly

cut grass fill the hotel, and the room itself is large and

clean with plenty of room for my daily ‘jogging on the spot’

exercises. We throw our bags onto the wooden floor, spray

some deodorant under our armpits and head off in search

of the Barrio Historico area. The town is fairly small and

quiet and we find ourselves wandering around the tranquil

plazas and below the old stone walls of the city.

Lanterns reach out from colourful colonial buildings either

side of the cobbled streets that are lined with pavement cafes

and perfectly restored classic cars.

‘Living in Colonia would be great if you were old and

buggered, don’t you think?’ Chris muses.

‘Oh yeah, I can just picture you in your swimming

trunks, shuffling down to the beach with your Zima

frame.’

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He smiles at the idea. ‘Sounds like paradise. The thought

of living in an old people’s home makes me shiver. It

would be far better to live out here in a really cool pad,

with orange trees growing in the garden and a really sexy

old gal on your arm.’

‘Hmm, yeah, although, I think I’d prefer to have a sexy

young girl on my arm, but then I guess you have to be realistic.’

Looping around the small peninsula that makes up the historic

part of the town, we find ourselves back on the main

high street and pass a moped hire shop. We pause outside.

‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking?’ Chris smiles, as he

licks the chocolate off the top of his ice cream.

I shake my head. ‘No way, I’m not going anywhere near

one of those things.’

‘Why not? Mopeds are a great way to explore the surrounding

area. It’ll be fun!’

I glance at the shiny mopeds lined up outside the shop

and tap my chin in mild consideration. ‘Is it worth the

risk, though? I mean, we have literally just touched down

in South America. Do you seriously want to risk breaking

a leg just because you’re a lazy bastard and can’t be arsed

to walk?’

Chris laughs. ‘You’re a fucking loser, do you know that?

It’s not a high-performance motorbike that friggin Evel

Knievel would’ve ridden, it’s a bloody moped! A ten-yearold

can ride one.’

‘But neither of us has any experience riding a machine

like this. All it takes is one fuck up and we’ll be sucking

through straws for the remainder of the trip.’

‘Si, you worry too much. Come on – let’s hire one! You’re

supposed to do something different every day. Live on the

edge!’

Chris disappears inside the shop and returns with a big

smile across his face and a set of keys in his hand.

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‘We’ve got ourselves some wheels!’ he cries, leaping onto

the moped. ‘This is going to be so cool. We can be like

Peter Fonda and Dennis Hopper in the movie, Easy Rider.

We’ll have girls running after us before we’ve even struck

this cocking machine into action.’

He passes me a helmet.

‘Do I have to wear this?’ I grumble, climbing on the back.

‘It’s probably a good idea.’

I sigh and plonk the helmet on my head.

‘Hippie boy in a helmet,’ Chris smirks. ‘Now that is comedy!’

I tighten the strap under my chin and raise a middle finger.

‘You crash and I’ll ram this helmet up your friggin arse!’

Chris flicks the gears on the handlebar, and turns the key.

The engine kicks into life. ‘Don’t worry it’s really easy. All

I have to do is point it in the right direction and pull back

on the throttle. Trust me it’s child’s play.’

On that note, Chris revs the engine a few times and

engages the clutch. The moped rockets forward and immediately

he’s out of control.

‘BRAKES!’ I scream, as we speed towards two tourists

standing outside the shop.

‘FUCK!’ he shouts, swerving sharply to the right.

The shocked tourists quickly dive out of the way in the

nick of time and, fearing that I’m about to become worm

food, I manage to slide off the back of the bike. Chris

speeds across the street in a cloud of exhaust fumes and

crashes into a steep curb. He flies over the handlebars with

surprising force, considering he’s only going about 5mph,

and rolls a couple of times across the pavement. He scrambles

comically to his feet and whips off his helmet. The guy

from the shop runs across the street and straightens up the

moped. Much to our relief it doesn’t appear to be damaged.

Chris grins falsely and hands the guy his helmet. ‘Maybe

we should walk.’

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* * *

We stand outside a bustling pavement café on Plaza Mayor

in the historic centre and scan the area for a table.

‘There’s nowhere to sit,’ Si mumbles. ‘Let’s go somewhere

else, I’m starving.’

‘There must be a table.’

‘I know I’m half blind, but I’ll eat my smelly money belt

if you find one.’

‘Over there!’ I cry, pointing to a table beneath an orange

tree.

‘Well spotted.’

Weaving between groups of tourists tucking into their

food, we’re about to celebrate our good fortune when a

man wearing a cowboy hat appears from out of nowhere

and throws his little rucksack onto the table. We screech to

a halt and look in surprise as the dude leaps onto one of

the chairs and turns to us with a smug grin. He leans back

and flicks open the menu.

‘Where did he come from?’ Si yells. ‘Right, sod this, I’m

out of here!’

I grab Si’s arm. ‘Hold your horses there might be another

table in a minute. I like the atmosphere of this place.’

A waiter sees us looking lost and escorts us over to an

old classic car parked up outside the restaurant. I notice

the doors have been removed and a space has been created

inside for a small table. He gestures for us to get in.

‘You have to be kidding,’ Si laughs. ‘I’m not eating my

dinner in there! We’ll look like a right couple of freaks.’

‘I thought you were hungry?’

‘I’m not that hungry. I want to sit outside and people

watch.’

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The black car is an impressive relic of the 1930′s and

looks like something the Ant Hill Mob or Bugsy Malone

might have driven. The waiter hands us both a menu and

invites us to get in. We reluctantly climb inside and sense

eyes watching us from tables all around. Si perches himself

on the back seat and rubs his temple, while I sit

uncomfortably on one of the thin cushions on the floor.

‘Fuck this, Chris, let’s do a runner. People are staring at

us.’

‘We can’t leave now!’

‘Uh, yes we fucking can.’

‘Come on, I’ve never eaten my dinner in the back of a

classic car before.’

Si sits back down and shakes his head. ‘No, neither have

I funnily enough.’

The waiter walks inside the café and smirks at his colleague. They both look

over at us.

‘I’m sure they’ve put us in here on purpose,’ Si grumbles,

fighting to get comfortable. ‘You know, to humiliate the

gringos.’

‘Don’t be so paranoid.’

‘I’m not.’

Looking around our freaky surroundings I notice the

steering wheel, the pedals and the dials are all still intact

and in pristine condition. ‘You have to admit this is pretty

cool. I mean, how many people do you know who have

done this before?’

‘Zero, I feel like a right tourist.’

‘You are a fucking tourist! Look, this is mad. Can you

imagine what has happened inside this car over the past

seventy years?’

Si screws up his face. ‘From the smell I dread to think.’

‘Some dude in the nineteen thirties actually touched that

steering wheel. I wonder what he looked like. Imagine the

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conversations that have gone on inside this car, the arguments

and the baby language – the songs of joy and the

tears of laughter.’

‘Yeah, that’s really fascinating Chris, but let’s eat our food

and get the fuck out of here, shall we?’

‘OK, grumpy guts, do you want the chicken? I’ll pop

inside and order the food.’

‘Yes, just hurry up!’

I leap out of the car and head inside the café. I give my

order to the waiter, and look with intrigue at an incredibly

tall guy standing next to me. He’s at least 7ft tall and has

his arm around an attractive Latin girl with petite dark features

and jet-black hair. She looks tiny next to the giant

and I smile at them as they study the menu. Listening to

their conversation I can hear he’s American.

‘How’s it going?’ I smile.

The friendly giant reaches down and shakes my hand.

‘I’m good, where are you from?’

‘England.’

‘OK, man, that’s cool.’

‘Are you here on holiday?’

‘Yeah, kind of, I’m on a romantic chill with my beautiful

girl Silvia.’

She looks up at him with doe-eyes and he slides his huge

arm around her and squeezes tight.

‘I don’t blame you,’ I reply, ‘this place is beautiful.’

‘Sure is, I’ve been living out here for six months now. I

play basketball for a team in Montevideo. I got a twelvemonth

transfer.’

‘Wow, is basketball big in Uruguay?’

‘Oh yeah, it’s huge – just like me!’ he winks.

His girlfriend laughs and kisses his big hand that tenderly

strokes her face.

‘What about you?’ he asks.

‘We’re on our way to Brazil.’

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‘For Carnival?’

‘Yeah, that’s the idea.’

‘What seat number are you in?’

‘Seat number?’

‘Yeah, don’t you have a seat number?’

‘No,’ I reply, unsure what he means. ‘I wasn’t planning on

sitting down.’

He frowns. ‘Have you got your ticket for the

Sambodromo?’

‘The Sambodromo?’

‘Yeah, the world’s greatest parade.’

‘No.’

‘Fuck, man! What tour company are you with? You are

going to the Rio Carnival, aren’t you?’

‘Yes, I think so.’

The giant shakes his head. ‘You’re screwed, man. If you

don’t book your ticket in advance you’re going miss everything.

I paid three-hundred-dollars for mine. We’re right at

the front. What about a hotel, have you booked a hotel yet?

Rio goes crazy over Carnival.’

‘Uh…no, not yet – do you think I should?’

‘Fuck yeah,’ he laughs, turning to his girlfriend and

pulling a face. ‘Most hotels and hostels require you to book

for the full five days of Carnival. You’d better be quick otherwise

you’re going to be on the street.’

‘How much is a bed in a hostel?’

‘We’re paying fifty bucks a night each for a double. It’s

fucking awesome, right on Copacabana beach.’

My jaw drops. ‘Fifty dollars, so that’s five-hundred dollars

for the five nights over Carnival?’

‘Yeah, it’s a steal.’

I clear my throat. ‘Yeah, it’s a bit out of my budget, but it

sounds great.’

‘It’s Carnival, dude. Get a loan, anything!’

‘I might have to.’

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‘So, where else you headed?’

‘Well, we’re going to travel across Argentina to Chile and

from the…’ I watch in stunned silence as the giant ignores

me and starts kissing his girlfriend full on the lips. His

enormous tongue penetrates her small mouth, and she

licks eagerly around the sides of the whale-sized piece of

meat. ‘…Yeah, uh, from the Andes to the Amazon,’ I continue,

feeling a little uncomfortable.

The giant removes his tongue from her mouth and peers

over at me. ‘How long are you staying here for?’ he quickly

asks, unembarrassed by his public display of affection.

‘Oh, just for one night,’ I reply. ‘We’re on our way to Salto

in the…’

Completely ignoring me again, the giant caresses his girlfriend’s

face and they collapse into a second round of

tongue taekwondo. Seeing their lips part once more, they

stare at each other for a few seconds.

‘You guys are making me hungry,’ I laugh. ‘Well, you take

care.’

‘Sorry, dude, we got engaged today.’

‘No way, congratulations!’

‘Thanks,’ the guy smiles stroking his new loves shiny

black hair. ‘We’ve only been together for six weeks.’

The girl rests her head on his stomach and flutters her

eyelashes.

‘That’s incredible. Six weeks?’

He nods. ‘Big time!’

‘When’s the big day?’

‘We haven’t had time to arrange anything yet, probably

next fall. Hey, have you hired a moped?’

‘No,’ I lie, surprised by his quick fire question. ‘Maybe

tomorrow, we’ve only just arrived.’

‘You should, especially if you’re only here for one day.

We’ve toured all over.’

‘Sounds like a good idea,’ I smile falsely.

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‘We met a couple from Belgium about an hour ago, and

they were telling us about some wacko who crashed into

the pavement earlier today. What a jerk off!’

I feel uncomfortably hot. ‘Really, how embarrassing,’ I

cough, a bead of sweat running down my temple.

‘It makes me so god damn angry when I hear things like

that. If you don’t know how to ride a motorbike you

shouldn’t hire one, you know. Freakin’ idiot. He nearly ran

them over.’

‘What a goof,’ I cry, shaking my head. ‘Some people just

don’t have any consideration for others.’

‘I totally agree with you, man. We’re hooking up with

them here in about five minutes. They’re a real nice couple.

I’ll introduce you to them if you like?’

‘Oh, uh, yeah, that would be great!’

‘Are you here with your girlfriend, too?’

‘No, I’m here with my brother.’

‘Where is he?’

I glance over my shoulder and see Si sat hunched over in

the back of the classic car. ‘I’m not entirely sure to be honest

with you. He was sitting at a table outside the last time I

looked.’

‘Well, if you get the chance hire a moped, they’re a lot of

fun.’

‘OK, we will.’

Seeing his girlfriend close her eyes and part her lips, I

quickly turn away and make a run for it. I really don’t want

to see the giant’s fat fleshy tongue penetrate her mouth for

a third time. Freezing in my tracks, I see the Belgium couple

heading straight towards me. I think fast and snatch a

menu off the side. Using it as a shield I raise it to my face

and brush past them in the entrance to the café before

sprinting back to the old car.

‘What took you so long?’ Si shouts, as I leap inside. ‘I felt

like a right tosser in here on my own. People keep peering

26

through the window like I’m part of some fucked up freak

show.’

‘We have to leave…now!’

‘Why?’

‘The tourists I nearly killed with the moped are here. I

can’t bear to speak to them after what happened.’

‘Chris, relax, who cares. It wasn’t your fault. You’re just a

retard when it comes to riding mopeds. There’s nothing

wrong with that.’

‘Let’s go.’

‘Forget about it, I’m not leaving. If I don’t eat something

in approximately five minutes I’m going to chew my arm

off.’

‘What are the chances of them rocking up at the same

café as us at the same bloody time?’

‘Chris, we’re staying!’

‘We’re leaving!’

‘WE’RE STAYING! Jesus, now this is what happens when

I’m hungry. I get all moody and agitated.’

‘Well, if they see us you can deal with it, OK?’

‘OK! Anyway, what took you so long to order?’

‘Oh, I got chatting to this massive basketball player from

Oregon, he’s huge! He kept kissing his girlfriend right in

front of me, it was disgusting.’

‘Get a room!’ Si cries.

‘Yeah, I bloody hate couples, they’re weird anti-social

creatures. Two become one and all that.’

‘Don’t be an arsehole. It’s kind of sweet if you think about

it. This is a very romantic place to be in love.’

‘Nooo, not sweet at all, they’ve only been together for six

weeks and he’s already proposed to her. I’ll bet she’s after

his money, either that or his passport. If I was him I’d wait

at least until the honeymoon period was over before making

any rash decisions like that. I’ll be taking my girlfriend to

India for at least two months before I do anything as stupid

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as asking her to marry me.’

Si frowns. ‘India?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

‘Think about it, you numb-nuts. If you really want to test

a relationship you should travel around somewhere hardcore

like India for a few months first, then you’ll definitely

know if she’s the one.’

‘Do you think so?’

‘Bloody right I do. If you both return home together after

having spent two months shitting the whole time, arguing

and travelling through hot smelly bumpy streets on

clapped out buses and still have sex, laugh and play fight

at the end of it, you should definitely consider taking

things further.’

Seeing the giant and his girlfriend exit the café with the

Belgium couple in tow, I grab Si’s head and we duck down.

The waiter suddenly appears with our food and looks at us

both strangely. Sitting up, we smile as he reaches inside

the car and places our food on the table. I peer behind the

waiter and see the couples’ strange forms wandering off

down the cobbled street.

‘Thank fuck for that,’ I grin, rubbing my hands together.

‘Now we can eat!’

The food looks delicious, and completely forgetting

about our bizarre location and the love life of a giant we

ravenously devour our dinner.

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