I know that I promised an ode to Buenos Aires, but that post is taking longer than I thought it would, and I want to tell you what I did today.
Well, as the title implies, the exchange program took all 40 (or so) of us metropolitan yuppies-in-training out to a dude ranch in the country. These are known here as "estancias", and this one was very livestock oriented, as are all the farms in the interior of Argentina.
The trip started after a grueling 6:30am wake up, followed by a bus ride out into the country. Needless to say, I didn't get to take in most of the trip, since I was finishing what I started at 2am. I'm no quitter. We eventually arrived in a place called New Holland, which, as the name implies is the remnants of a dutch settlement founded after WWII. It feels just like any other part of the farmlands, but many of the workers there can trace their roots back to the land of weed and honey.
We all ate a breakfast of delicious homemade bread, and then broke off to different activities. Horses were available, but only for ten people at a time. My enthusiasm got the best of me and I volunteered to be one of the first. For all comedic purposes, this was definitely the highlight of the day, although that's much easier to say now that I'm resting on a non-living item. During the adventure, I probably would have wet my pants, if I didn't fear upsetting the four-legged demon that I was sitting on. Where to begin...
Well, as I said, there were ten horses available in the first group, but there weren't too many people running to get in line--everyone else clearly knew something that I didn't--but I thought I'd give it a try. We were told to stay close, since the horses would be ready in a few minutes. An hour later (this is Argentina, after all), two very sun-worn, tough looking dudes mounted a couple of horses and galloped off to round up our rides. Apparently, cowboys don't die, they just move to Argentina. A few minutes later, John Wayne and Butch Cassidy returned, circling a pack of horses in a scene straight out of a beer commercial. At this point, I began wondering what the hell I got myself into. I didn't stop wondering that until I was back on my own two feet.
Señor Wayne came up to us and told us that these were actual, responsive horse that weren't like the kind we've ridden before. (Oh God, he thinks I've ridden a horse before.)
[Actually, for the sake of humor, I've omitted my few encounters of the four-legged kind, I'm really not an absolute novice. My equestrian career: 1) A few lessons in summer camp about 10 years ago (of which I remember nothing about), 2) A trip with my uncle and cousin on top of a rented horse that made a city bus driver look enthusiastic, and 3) the knowledge of how things turned out for Christopher Reeves, Genghis Khan, and just about everybody in Gone With the Wind. Not the best combination. With that out of the way, on with the story]
Our guides continued to ease our worries by telling us that a few of the horses never really responded well to training, and they should be handled by experienced riders. They asked if anyone knew how to ride a horse, and a few hands went up, but none of them belonged to me. He told a girl with some horseback experience that she'd have her hands full with the first horse he brought over. If the Trojans used an actual horse, this would be the one. As he was helping her up (and up, and up), he noticed me, and I knew what was coming. No, don't say it. "You," he said, pointing at me. Crap. "You should take this horse, it'll fit you better." Fit better? I won't be fitting too well in the tree he throws me into!
I got on it, relatively uneventfully, and we proceeded as a group though the surrounding forest. Well, they proceeded as a group. I had some problems keeping up. My horse didn't quite get the concept of a gradual turn, it had two modes: straight away, or a move that I called toilet-bowling. It was like a living tilt-a-whirl. I eventually caught up to the group only to find them stuck at a stream. There was a bridge a few meters away, and it seemed like the better option to most of the horses, but not mine. Of course. My horse (oblivious to any of my instructions given in last-ditch desperation) came to what felt like a full gallop, and perfectly cleared a 2 yard gap. I can't possibly convey that feeling in words (at least in polite company), but now I know what it feels like to be truly breathless. I wish I were joking. I was at once thrilled, bewildered, and poop-my-pants afraid. My horse (and everyone else within earshot) was lucky I couldn't find the breath to express myself. It really was an unreal experience.
The ride continued with a few more glitches and hijinks, but I've got to move on with the story. We came back to a lunch that I'm lucky wasn't served before the ride of doom. But it was absolutely delicious, at least until I started asking questions. Here's a sample of a few exchanges between my server and me (in Spanish, of course):
Me: Mmmm, this is delicious, what is it?
Server: Cow pituitary gland.
Me: Oh.
Me: Mmmm, this sausage tastes great, but why is the texture so different? What's in it, refried beans?
Server: No, congealed cow's blood.
Me: Aaackk, bleegggg, guurrff. Oh.
The rest of the afternoon actually passed in a surprisingly tranquil manner. I spent the first part of the afternoon scaling a mobile climbing wall that was set up on the grounds. After all, nothing says "relaxing day in the Argentine pampas" quite like clinging on to ceramic nipples for dear life. I also played in a great game of soccer which wouldn't be very funny at all if the field hadn't been littered with the biggest cow pies I've seen in my life. It was kind of like playing soccer in a mine field, although this one was just a little bit worse. Afterwards we played some volleyball, and although the court wasn't dotted with poo-bombs, was inhabited by several ostriches that were pretty reluctant to give up their stomping grounds.
The day ended up being very fun, and I've got quite a decent tan to show for it. I apologize about the length, but, as Tom Robbins says, the details make the story. If you don't know who he is, look him up, it's worth it. Talk to you all soon.
M
