I flew to Argentina exactly one month ago today and I'm still eating marzipan from Christmas. I have a stash: a log of marzipan, most of a Green & Blacks white chocolate bar, a bar of raw Anarchist's chocolate from Toronto, and a little Nelson's Chocofellar. I keep it in my loft here and occassionally slink off and indulge without judgement (well, perhaps a little self-criticism occurs). I had such good intensions of sharing, but Argentina has made me a very selfish person. The fact is, I've decided that the sentimental value of these sweets far outweigh the pleasure that any other person could gain from them. For most it's just good chocolate. For me, it's a little piece of my many homes. Besides, the chocolate has melted and rehardened so many times that it really don't taste much good anymore. Surely.
Each time I seek out my little chocolate sanctuary, it's like Christmas all over again. And most times, my excitement forces me to eat until I hit a regretable state beyond simple satiation. Sometimes my affairs with Christmas are driven by anxiety, sometimes by happiness, and others anger. My stick of panda licorice fell victim to the latter.
Yes, I eat my feelings. ...damn you, sweet tooth. Are we surprised I ended up in the hospital the other day with stomach pains? - That's a story for another day. For now, let's go back in time to January 10th, the day I arrived in El Huecu (the town nearest the ranch where I am currently volunteering).
Each time I seek out my little chocolate sanctuary, it's like Christmas all over again. And most times, my excitement forces me to eat until I hit a regretable state beyond simple satiation. Sometimes my affairs with Christmas are driven by anxiety, sometimes by happiness, and others anger. My stick of panda licorice fell victim to the latter.
Yes, I eat my feelings. ...damn you, sweet tooth. Are we surprised I ended up in the hospital the other day with stomach pains? - That's a story for another day. For now, let's go back in time to January 10th, the day I arrived in El Huecu (the town nearest the ranch where I am currently volunteering).
It became apparent that El Huecu is very remote when we hit dirt road an hour out of town. It was all dirt from there. I arrived to a tiny terminal - more of just a storefront really - where Barb, the other volunteer, was waiting.
My first impressions of El Huecu were that it's a quaint, simple place. Within a two block radius of the bus station, one has access to all of the main amenities in the town. These include: a few small 'servicompras' (corner store-like grocery shops), a post office, a seemingly near-abandoned firefighting station, 1 or 2 'zapaterias' (shoe shops), the office of the Ministry of Education and Justice (I find it curious and perhaps worrisome that these two sectors are combined...), a school, the hospital, and the town square.
These are the amenities that one sees upon arriving at least. With time and local connections, however, a whole slew of hidden treasures emerge. For instance, who knew you can purchase plastic page covers or sleeves from the little copy store tucked in behind the zapateria? Who knew there was a copy store at all? And then there's the guy 5 houses down who will sell you beer at a slight mark up, but with the convenience of being a three minute walk from home. There's even a local family with a small plot of land that will sell you their home-grown veggies! That is, if there's enough rain to permit any growth - a rarity in the current drought. The longer you stay, the more you realize that most everything you could need is in El Huecu. Well, fresh produce aside. It's a real treat to find a fully intact, non-wilted head of lettuce.
The people of El Huecu have been very kind in my experience. As one of only 3 foreigners in town, I often feel self-conscious, but also accepted. Perhaps because very little tourism exists here, the locals haven't had a chance to develop an attitude towards or become resentful of foreigners. Barb and I get a lot of snickers from some of the young folk here, but for the most part, we are greeted just as the locals are: with a kiss on the cheek, a "buen dia", or a "que tal".The local shop owners have come to know us, and us them, as we make our almost daily rounds to scope out what fruits and veggies have come in on the trucks that morning.
I now know what it's like to be in a place where horses are not a luxury or priveledge, but rather a necessity. Here, they are rarely for play or show, but rather first and foremost for work. They are not a hobby, but a means of transportation. As such, it's not rare to see a couple horses hitched to a sign post outside a shop downtown. In fact, I have even had the honor of shopping by horseback myself!
It's always a pleasure to see the local gauchos (most easily described as Patagonian cowboys) decked out in full attire, en route on horseback. They seem to fulfill a historical role of caring for cattle and horses, living somewhat transient lives with minimal comforts. They live very close to their land, their work is their lifestyle - stopping only occassionally to share a ritual mate.
Overall, I can't say El Huecu has stolen my heart - (that's a job for the surrounding Patagonian countryside). That being said, it has kept me safe, and for that I am always grateful.
The people of El Huecu have been very kind in my experience. As one of only 3 foreigners in town, I often feel self-conscious, but also accepted. Perhaps because very little tourism exists here, the locals haven't had a chance to develop an attitude towards or become resentful of foreigners. Barb and I get a lot of snickers from some of the young folk here, but for the most part, we are greeted just as the locals are: with a kiss on the cheek, a "buen dia", or a "que tal".The local shop owners have come to know us, and us them, as we make our almost daily rounds to scope out what fruits and veggies have come in on the trucks that morning.
I now know what it's like to be in a place where horses are not a luxury or priveledge, but rather a necessity. Here, they are rarely for play or show, but rather first and foremost for work. They are not a hobby, but a means of transportation. As such, it's not rare to see a couple horses hitched to a sign post outside a shop downtown. In fact, I have even had the honor of shopping by horseback myself!
It's always a pleasure to see the local gauchos (most easily described as Patagonian cowboys) decked out in full attire, en route on horseback. They seem to fulfill a historical role of caring for cattle and horses, living somewhat transient lives with minimal comforts. They live very close to their land, their work is their lifestyle - stopping only occassionally to share a ritual mate.
Overall, I can't say El Huecu has stolen my heart - (that's a job for the surrounding Patagonian countryside). That being said, it has kept me safe, and for that I am always grateful.
Sadly, these beauties were being brought to la Chacra en route to a slaughter house. I could only find comfort in the fact that they were all 28-30 years old. Learning to let go of preconceived ideas of what's right and wrong...
A few houses on the edge of El Huecu
I can only assume this is the local radio station
Ginny (the woman I am working with), her daughter Sky, Jorge (in front, our resident gaucho), and a visitor on La Chacra
So well written Cedar. You have a gift.
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Aw, thanks Barb! That's very sweet.
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