If you ever go to a futbol match in Argentina make sure you take your Spanish-English dictionary. You will want to look up all those dirty words the fans will scream at each other. At the futbol match we went to in Buenos Aires I very quickly learnt the Spanish word for a lady of the night.

Going to a game is a definite must-do if you get the chance while travelling in South America. You gotta feel the passion.

Tim and I went with a group from our hostel and there were so many of us we had to take a taxi which followed the vanload to the home stadium of River Plate, a very popular club in Buenos Aires. In the taxi was a young Argentine called Jonathon who started ranting about his love for the day's away team San Lorenzo. He wouldn't even shake our hands until we pledged our allegiance to his team. According to Jonathon they were going to win 3-1 because River were a bunch of chickens.

We couldn't sit with Jonathon because they can't put the teams' supporters together and our seats were among the River Plate guys. We couldn't drink alcohol because it is completely banned from the stadium. The security was monstrous and it made me feel like I was on my way to meet George Dubya or someone.

The 80,000-person stadium was about 90 percent full - there were endless patches of red and white River supporters and then two sections of San Lorenzo fans separated behind barbed wire and guarded by police with huge guns.

I'd never experienced anything like the noise of the opposing teams screaming at each other. In the ridiculous heat they still jumped madly and danced for the whole game. It was deafening and shocking. Perfectly sweet-looking people were yelling obscenities, doing the fingers, screaming like maniacs.

We couldn't help but get caught up in all the passion. River Plate won 2-0 and we applauded them the whole way, feeling guilty after our pledge to Jonathon. But we were backing the winners. At the end the River fans had an extra 30 minute wait before we could leave our seats. We watched as the San Lorenzo supporters were forced out of their seats by the cops and their guns.

Our guide told us why we were sitting on our chuffs waiting: We couldn't leave till those fans were at least three blocks away because a few months earlier there had been a fan vs fan fight which ended in murder.

Then on the way home we heard police sirens and saw flashing lights and our guide pointed out the away team's tour bus coming up behind us. It had three police motorcycles in front and three at the back, and there was no way the bus was stopping at any red lights. We found it hilarious - no wonder there was no beer in the stadium.

In my next post I'll tell you about how we did a bicycle tour around Buenos Aires - a frightening experience in all that crazy traffic.

Check out more photos from my trip in my Flickr album.

Find out more about Buenos Aires.

Read more about Kelly's adventures.