TUCUMAN REVISITED
That night I made it to another petrol station north of Tucuman. The manager called Jorge was very nice giving me hot water for my coffee, a packet of biscuits. He was not busy so sat down at my table with me.
Jorge asked me about George Best from Belfast, Northern Ireland. George is considered by many pundits to be one of the 3 most talented footballers that ever laced up a pair of football boots. George Best, Diego Maradona and Pele are the three that many people talk about.
Jorge got a bit of a kick when I called him ‘ Jorge Mejor ’ or Spanish for George Best!
Jorge Best. Or great man!
Jorge told me I could take a shower and sleep around the back under the nice starry night sky. That’s what I did, I just found some cardboard and a couple of wide planks from a wood pile and settled down to sleep. It was a nice mild night.
Next day I ran through San Miguel de Tucuman. A name I will take with me to my grave.
You see when I was in this area on my 1983 South American cycle I stopped here when it was a very small city. Today its a large city, totally unrecognizable to me.
Back then I left my bicycle with some workmen in the tool shed for a few days while I went off on a short excursion. When I returned the workmen told me the shed had been broken into and my bicycle was stolen. I still had my tent and hung out in the park for about a week. The local media were interested in my story and I gave several radio and newspaper interviews, even threatening a hunger strike! I still remember the Spanish for this ‘ huelga de hambre ’
Well one night I was returning to the campsite from a radio station with a friend I had met. His name was Miguel Moja. I soon realized my tent was lifted, I reckon because I was causing so much shit! Miguel brought me back to his house where I stayed with him and his mother and father and sister Patricia. I can’t remember Miguel mothers or his fathers names. His father passionately took up my case for another week or two.
While staying in their home I used to contribute a few dollars every day to the house hold. They were wonderful people, I remember chickens running around and suddenly Miguel’s mother picked one up, slit it’s throat, we had it for dinner that night.
After a while the Governor of Tucuman decided to buy me a new bicycle. So I went down to a shop and told them I didn’t like the colours as mine was a lovely blue bicycle and the shop only had silver bicycles! They got a bit of a shock by this but in the end I just got the silver bike. There was a photo shoot with the Governor handing me the bicycle and a pendant of the crest of Tucuman. I still got that pendant and the photo. Because of all the wonderful people I met and those that helped me, I can’t really think of this place any other way other than affectionately.
Yes San Miguel de Tucuman has changed now. I can’t be sure where the park was where I camped. Perhaps its Parque 9 de Julio, that huge park beside the bus station.
Just as I was getting ready to run out of the city, at the far end of Avenida Jujuy some school children started sneering at me as I made my way down the avenue. I did what I often do for a joke. I gave them my Spanish business cards that I got printed for the run. Sometimes they shout Forest Gump!
No he got smart in LA I usually respond!
That was a good day, I ran well and finished late with 64 km. I want to finish the following day in J.B. Alberdi which is 103km from Tucuman so wanted the majority run that day as tomorrow evening I will be getting the bus to BA for my timeout.
I finished in the dark. Just before I finished a man slid off his motorbike right in front of me. He was not going too fast, just riding the bike in the gravel shoulder towards me.
His crash helmet fell onto the ground. He fell heavily. A dog ran out in front of him, which made him lose control. Lucky man that he fell on his shoulder and not his head. I picked him up, pulling his bike off the road. He was badly bruised and groaning loudly for a minute. Then suddenly he started asking me where I was from and about the run! Amazing!
He phoned his girlfriend who came out to pick him up.
Next day, my last day on the road before the timeout were among my fastest and best kilometres of my running so far in South America. Just goes to show what a sniff of a time out can do!
I finished up at km 711, this is where I will return to in a little oover three weeks time. It will be my start of the very last segment of the Americas. Total to date: 21,366 kilometres for 513 road days.
Then it was an 18 hour bus ride to Buenos Aires bus station. John Boyle who has been minding Nirvana in his loft for me since last September met me at the station.
John was born in England of Mayo parents, he spent much of his childhood on holidays in the Irish Atlantic county. Mayo is also the county which was most affected by the Great Famine. John moved to Mayo where he worked in construction for about ten years. Despite his very strong English accent the lads in BA’s sizable Irish community consider him to be as Irish as themselves!
Here at the bus station John greeted me wearing a Mayo GAA football shirt, because Mayo play my county, Dublin in just over 2 weeks time in the All Ireland football semi-final. He is married to Clara, an Argentine. They have 5 year-old twin girls and are very happy living here.
With just a few of the Irish community in BA. John and Liam on right.
The following night about ten of John’s Irish friends, including another man Liam Mycroff who has helped me enormously took me out to a lovely Chinese dinner.
The lads got a laugh when I stared at them sharing the food off just one plate!
” Is that all we are getting, I asked? Just one plate between all of us?! “
” Yes, You hungry Tony! “
Then the plates kept coming, each time we added a little to our plates passing around the serving plate.
A delicious meal indeed! And a lovely night, thanks lads for looking after me.
Next morning before my flight to Dublin I was invited out to a very nice breakfast by Jerry O Donovan of the Irish Embassy in Buenos Aires.
Then it was another marathon journey from Buenos Aires to Dublin via Paris. About 22 hours flying totake me back to where I started running 22 months ago.
Greeted at Dublin airport by my mother Sheila, my sister Ann and godson Mark.
