Kendo and a Lost Screw: 1,500 km to Mendoza

We'd spend an hour and a half hunting for a tiny screw in the pitch-dark of an Argentine campsite. When Thomas finally found it, we laughed. That's what travel is: learning to laugh at your own mess.

Fifteen days on the road between Paraguay and Mendoza. Straight lines, dirt tracks, Kendo dojos, mechanic workshops, and a few memorable disasters.

---

Back in Argentina

Crossing back through the Paraguayan border is still a little confusing: which window do you hit first, and in what order, when they're all spread around? We're worried the customs officers won't properly record our exit, so we photograph everything just in case. And above all, once we're through the Argentine side, we photograph the essential TIP, just in case we lose it somewhere along the way.

First stop: Clorinda. It's Sunday, everything is shut. We wander around until we stumble on a rotisserie willing to set up a table for us outside the shop. Chicken, salad, corn cake — delicious, the sauce is excellent. The cook pulls out his phone to show us his travel photos. We expected landscapes. But no: it's him in front of a fountain, him in front of the casino, him in front of the main square. Priceless.

Then it's 100 km of dead-straight road to Formosa. Not thrilling, but unavoidable. That evening, an Argentine woman who speaks French strikes up a conversation while we're grocery shopping and invites us to a bingo night at her place. We buy a bottle of red wine and wait for the message with the address — it never comes. Cancellation drops at 9:30pm. We end up drinking the red just the two of us, a little giddy, shoot a video for our friends back home, and head to bed.

---

Kendo as a Common Thread

If there's one thing that defines these two weeks, it's this: Kendo opened doors we'd never have found on our own. And whether you practice in France or Latin America, the beer after training is an international custom.

Santa Fe, Rosario, Córdoba: five dojos in two weeks — big program. Thomas is frustrated not to be able to practice, especially in Santa Fe where we reunite with members of the national team who had impressed us at the CLAK in Santa Clara del Mar.

In Rosario, Ariel lends us his apartment for two days. He goes to the bakery to pick up a snack before class, drives us to the dojo, brings us back. We decide to cook a proper meal to thank him: chicken with ginger and soy sauce. We leave with two tenugui from the club — we're starting to accumulate them. We're going to run out of space on the bikes.

---

Córdoba: The Parts Hunt

In Córdoba, the main mission was the bikes' first oil change of the trip. Finding the right gaskets turned out to be complicated — even at the official Royal Enfield dealership. We eventually tracked them down in a hardware store and stocked up on O-rings for both bikes while we were at it. A quick stop at Team Motorace for oil and filters, a long chat about bikes and travel, and we ended up on their Instagram with our best approximation of Spanish.

Team Motorace then sent us to their mechanic A92 to have the bikes serviced. They wanted to do the labor for free, but we felt uncomfortable about that, so we ended up paying for one bike out of two. We left with the garage's sticker on both bikes.

With maintenance done, we used our time in the city to actually visit it: the Manzana Jesuítica, the impressive cathedral. We walked out to the Capuchin church with its multicolored facade — genuinely beautiful. We have to admit that just before starting the visit, we had a fit of laughter: a few days earlier, Adeline had been looking at photos of Córdoba… the one in Spain. Let's just say the scenery is slightly different.

We also got to visit the offices of Bitcoin School Argentina and learn more about their work promoting Bitcoin across Argentina and their collaboration with universities to build an educational curriculum. Not your typical tourist stop, but genuinely eye-opening about how Bitcoin is developing in Argentina.

---

The Tracks and the Cursed Screw

Between Córdoba and Mendoza, we could have taken the straight highway. We didn't. We climbed La Cumbre, then took the more demanding El Camino de Brochero — technical, but the views are spectacular. A Uruguayan biker we crossed paths with in Mina Clavero recommended going through La Carolina. Not in the plan, but we adjusted — that's part of the adventure.

The scenery is incredible, we're so happy to be out here. Switchbacks, curves, massive rock faces. We swap the GoPro battery — it'd be a shame not to film this. More and more local riders around us, loaded up like pack mules on their small-displacement bikes. It makes you think about the moto culture back in France: if you don't have a 600, you're not a real rider. Here, nobody cares about engine size — everyone rides, and if anything, we're the odd ones out with our big loaded bikes.

That evening at the campsite in Potrero de Funes, Thomas needs to adjust the idle on his bike — it's running a little low. Everything goes fine until the disaster: the tiny screw that sets the idle speed falls into a black hole. Impossible to find. We search for nearly an hour and a half. Adeline cooks dinner in the meantime. Then the miracle: Thomas finds the screw behind the footpeg mount. We'd shaken the bike in every direction, removed every panel — and there it was. Relief washes over us, and we end up laughing about the whole thing. It's late, but at least it's sorted.

We figure we'll sleep well at least — but just as we're heading to bed, the bar next door fires up a live concert. Great timing. We briefly consider going, but we're exhausted. And in the end, after the emotional rollercoaster of the evening, we fall asleep without any trouble to the sound of Argentine music.

---

Mendoza, Finally

We arrive in Mendoza on a Sunday evening. 40°C on the road, 234 km of dead-straight highway from San Luis, the GPS telling us what we can already see: the road ahead never bends. Two stops: one for a burger and fries at a motorway service station, another for coffee and fuel 90 km out. It's holiday season, the stations are packed. It feels like the 1980s: improbable loads strapped to car roofs, tiny hatchbacks hammering along flat out. Nobody here is stressing about comfort. They're going on holiday and they look very happy about it.

We settle into our apartment for three nights. It feels good to have a bit of comfort again. On the agenda: rest, chilling, and Kendo before heading south.