So how did you spend your Christmas?

You should know that the Brother and I share a particular gene which inclines us to the "Bah! Humbug!" tendency and one of the many reasons for making this trip was to escape the madness (and, to us, the hell) that is Christmas in the UK. In Argentina the celebration takes place on the evening of the 24th, when the family gathers to have a big meal. Also, apparently, at least in Ushuaia, on the dot of 12, everyone lets off fireworks. I mentioned before that the Brother was entranced by the idea of supper from tins, bits of cheese, smelly sausage, some bread and a banana. Really, I believe that when he rings down the curtain and goes to join the choir invisible, on his puffy cloud there will be a tin of sardines, a half-eaten banana, and a bar of chocolate he's been saving at the bottom of his rucksack since his last holiday. Christmas Eve was no exception. A tin of lentils, one of peas and a packet of spaghetti sauce mixed together and heated in the microwave constituted our supper, and "jolly good" it was too. If it hadn't been for the hotel owner's children taking pity on us and bringing a benjamin of bubbly and some special biscuits to our rooms, we might have managed to get away with ignoring the festivities altogether, but we did, at least, have to offer them the customary seasonal greetings, but as it was in Spanish, perhaps it didn't count. At midnight, as I said, after we were both safely tucked up in bed, the Brother for once not audible through the adjoining wall, the whole town became a giant firework display. Which both of us missed entirely. Our breakfast table was graced with further gifts from the hotel, and we leapt into a landrover Defender at 10, and were taken to lakes Escondido (or Hidden Lake, although it seemed pretty obvious to me) and Fagnano. It was a little bit more than just a bus ride, however, as our drivers veered off into the lenga forest and took us the scenic route, over deeply rutted paths and around the edge of the lake. It was not for the faint hearted, but certainly was exhilarating. Perhaps the most endearing act of our driver was the moment when he opened his door and got out of the vehicle, leaving us in a slowly moving Land Rover which appeared to be out of control. My, how we laughed. Of course it was all part of the act, and the rest of the journey was peppered with other witticisms, such as "the only rule is, if we need a push, the women do it", "I don't know if this is the right road, I'm just following him" and "has anyone got a satnav?". It was expertly done, and we arrived after fording a river and a short hike at a lovely shack on the edge of the lake, where our asado was awaiting. The setting was wonderful, blue sky, sparkly water, enough wind for breakers, a pebble beach, lenga forest at our backs, and, of course, the inevitable mountains dominating the scene. Nibbles with wine were followed by a "choripan" or sausage sandwich, then barbecued beef and salad, and finally, banana cake with dulce de leche. Wrinklitourist's alternative was a soya something with potatoes, sensitively grilled in foil. While we were sitting in the rustic shack, we spotted out the back amidst the grey and russet tones of the forest, two little grey foxes, so perfectly camouflaged, and obviously drawn by the smell of the meat. They were wary but we could get close enough to take photos. It was a pretty good way to spend the day, and has to rank amongst the top five most untraditional ways to spend Christmas. Thoroughly satisfactory all round. How was yours? No, really I don't want to know...