Borders and Thongs. Day 8 of my solo bike trip across South America

I am lying by the side of an elaborate, thermal spring pool, in a camping resort in Villa Elisa, Argentina. There are eight of these pools of varying temperatures, all naturally warmed from well below the earths mantle, and people from all of Argentina seem to have flocked here to soak in their soothing waters. I had thought it would be a perfect place to spend a mellow afternoon. However, truth-be-told, I am having a hard time knowing where to look. Because from where I sit, all I can see are bum cheeks. Beautiful bum cheeks. Big ones, round ones, old ones and bitty ones. Everyone is sporting a thong-no matter their age or shape. Everyone, but me.
It is not that I am prudish about such things, I am all about “When in Rome…”, but with the current state of my saddle sores, I would scare people-probably even clear a pool! And then there are my current tan lines-they are of the bike short variety-not my best look. So I sit quietly, keeping my shorts on and watch the scenery go by as I think about my day.

Several hours ago, I crossed the Uruguay/Argentina border. I was a bit apprehensive, but there was no need-as a bicyclist, I was treated like royalty.

I anxiously peddled up to the end of a queue of old cars and trucks waiting to pass through customs, all parked in a long lines, with their engines burning hot, and their tail pipes spewing foul exhaust, barely inching forward. Just the thought of breathing their fumes while simultaneously fighting heat stroke made me feel queasy. It looked like an hour long process. Ack.
But, before both of my feet had even touched the ground, a kind custom agent put his hand on my arm and said to follow him-right to the front of the line. I grinned sheepishly at all the drivers as I passed them and was through in an instant. I was then shown to a four mile bike/walking bridge up over the river to Argentina and wished a good ride. Easy as that.

I do think it will be different here from Uruguay. It already seems faster paced and more intense, but that might just be because I am near the border. Borders are often like that. I did not see one thong in Uruguay though, I think that is a sign We shall see tomorrow.