So…remember that one time when I said I couldn't imagine life outside of Buenos Aires? Scratch that. I am now also completely capable of envisioning (and craving) life outside of the vida loca that is BA: specifically, life in the sleepy Midwest-meets-gaucho-meets-Mayberry town of Pujato and the classically Catholic city of Córdoba.
PUJATO
From the beginning: almost two weeks ago, on Sunday the 27th of March, I roused myself at an ungodly hour to meet my group and our very own minibus to journey into the interior of Argentina. We arrived in Pujato later that day [tangent: to get a sense of scale here – if you look at the map at the top of this page, Pujato is about half-way between Buenos Aires and Córdoba. The drive to Pujato took about four hours and it was more like 9 hours coming back from Córdoba to Buenos Aires – even though it doesn't look like much on the map. Conclusion: Argentina is HUGE. I forget about this sometimes.]
Anywho, we arrived in Pujato and settled in with our host families for the week - this time with two students per family (in BA we all have our own). Rochelle and I lived with the Barulich family: Guillermo, Marcela (otra vez!), and their daughters Manuela (Manu, age 16) and Lara (13). Before I go any further in describing our activities, I just have to say that I AM SO IN LOVE WITH THAT ENTIRE FAMILY. They were so, so, so wonderful and completely opened their home and hearts to us. We really felt like part of the family after only a few days – they entertained us, asked us endless questions about life in the United States, showed us all around town, laughed at our Spanish mishaps and then gently corrected us, took us out with friends – it was all incredible. If I get the chance at all, I want to go back and visit them.
El pueblo
Pujato is a tiny town of about 2500-3000 people in the province of Sante Fe. The economy of the town is based almost entirely on agriculture and specifically on the production of soy. This has caused a host of social and economic changes in the region, not to mention some serious ecological/environmental damage, but I won't bore you all with those details. Well, only a little bit. One of the most important changes, arriving with the increased mechanization of agricultural practices and profits from the mono-crop cultivation of soy, has been the movement of people out of their homesteads in the fields and into the houses in town. Thus, my images of 'rural Argentina' were not to be found in Pujato: the town in very middle class, with all the amenities of 'modern' life (the Barulich family had more technological gadgets than either my Buenos Aires Marcela or my family at home…although with the latter that's not saying much). The culture is very distinct, however, with a huge emphasis on hospitality, family, and community ties. No one locks their houses during the day, everyone knows everyone (everyone knew who we were too, based on the fact that they didn't know us), people gather in groups in the central plaza on Sunday nights just to chat, everyone goes home at midday to eat lunch with their families, if you walk down the street you will get invitations to come into someone's house for a mate, etc. The overall atmosphere of the town was enchanting.
Activities
We did have a day of classes and some homework to keep us occupied, but that was all completely secondary to the experiences of living in Pujato and spending time with the family. At least that was my approach…
(hay que vivir, no?)
La feria
Our second day in Pujato, Marcela took the group to a cattle auction, or a feria de vacas, of which her father is the owner/proprietor. It was just the girls of the group, as the two guys were out working in the fields (ehehehe)…so it's not like we instantly stuck out at this heavily-testosteroned, Argentine cowboy event or anything. But it was so much fun – we got to ride horses, take pictures of cows (who doesn’t love that?), witness the auction itself (I kept repressing the Legally Blonde-like urge to exclaim "oh how cute, they have an announcer and cattle herders and everything!"), ask a lot of questions (I'm actually really interested in this kind of thing), and I can now officially testify to the fact that happy cows come from Argentina too.
Coco, Marcela's dad
Loading the cows toward their final destination...
Happy cows, fresh from the field.
The auction arena. This gaucho-type character was in charge of herding/controlling the cattle during the auction.
El 'campo campo'
Marcela got a big kick out of the fact that we had all thought we were going to be roughing it in the middle of nowhere. "No, no," she kept saying, "Pujato is the town, everyone lives in town, even the farmers. It's not 'campo campo' "(= really rural country, also can mean field). So she took us out to the campo campo, too. Her father's farm:
cutecutecute. also that's Mario, Marcela's brother.
We rode out to the field in the back of the pick. That's the tractor used for harvesting the soy behind us...
...which we subsequently rode around on for the afternoon. View looking down at the harvesting mechanism.
Bolsa de comercio
The next day we went to Rosario, the biggest city of the province and one of other major cities in Argentina [tangent: BA is by far the biggest and most important city in Argentina, but after that it's Rosario and Córdoba. I'm still not sure which of these two is bigger, because in Rosario they claim that Rosario is the second biggest city in Argentina, but in Córdoba they assured me that the honor belongs to Córdoba. Regional rivalry, much?] Anyway, the bolsa de comercio is basically the commerce/stock exchange for grains coming out of Sante Fe and surrounding provinces, which is the majority of grains produced in Argentina. We toured inside the building, learned about the history and purpose of the bolsa, and then went to observe the room where all the brokers actually do the trading, but it was very unsatisfying because everyone had left (prices were low that day, apparently.) I was hoping for some good arm-waving/I'm-so-jazzed-about-this-capitalism-thing kind of action, especially because yelling is so much more expressive in Spanish. But sadly, no; instead we got to look at some very comfortable-looking leather chairs and snazzy computer screens.
After that, we walked around Rosario, to the famous Monumento a la Bandera and the river front.
View from the top
Facultad de Medicina Veteranaria
Next up in the arsenal of activities the families in Pujato had lined up for us: we went to the veterinary school located in Cacilda, a city-town about twenty minutes from Pujato. We chatted with one of the school officials for a bit [tangent: I was fascinated by the differences in breadth of focus – in Argentina they have a much more holistic approach to the connections between animal health/human health and so have options to specialize in public health, agricultural inspection, etc, all in veterinary school] and then we wandered around and looked at cute animals.
The vet school shares the grounds with the agricultural/animal husbandry schools as well.
Freshly-born piggle wiggles! As in a few minutes old!
Dos caballos y una vaca???
The next day, Marcela took the group out to her father's campo again to watch her brother practice paletada, the Argentine national sport. Now, a bit of back story: when we first arrived in Argentina, I heard about an Argentine sport that is very similar to polo (but more hardcore and dangerous) but couldn't remember what it was called and so I assumed that's what this was. Rochelle, on the other hand, had heard Marcela explaining the competition as involving dos caballos y una vaca (two horses and a cow) but was unsure what they did. Entertaining visions of a cow lumbering around a polo field, I thought this was pretty ridiculous and so we thought maybe she had misunderstood (there are frequent "did she say…? You're not sure either…?" – type conversations between us yanquis here in Argentina). It basically became a joke for us for the rest of the trip. But lo and behold, we arrived on the farm and it was exactly that – two horses and a cow. The two gauchos herd the cow between the horses and have to keep it between them for a certain distance to get points.
Preparing...
Going...
Gone.
It was tons of fun, no matter what was lost in translation.
Fun random anecdote: one of the days, the Barulich family took us out to lunch at a parilla (grill) for asado (steak) [food tangent: OH. MY. GOD.] We were sitting there eating and the girls kept looking at this one guy sitting at the table next to us and they insisted that they recognized him from somewhere. Turns out it was a Latin American pop super star, named Axel (link to music video ehehe). We had never heard of him but this did not stop us from appreciating the fact that he is famous and dreamy.
So Marcela, being a mom, went over to Axel and asked him to take a picture with us and the girls. Keep in mind that Rochelle and I were unshowered and basically in pajamas, due to another comprehension mishap that had led us to believe we were going to the club to work out. But Axel was very gracious and obliging (Rochelle fell instantly in love) and there now exists on Manu's phone a picture of two norteamericanas wearing UPS tshirts posing with Axel.
How to celebrate/commemorate such a wonderful week of hospitality and cultural exchange? Plant some trees, of course! Duh. So that's what we did on our last night: we gave trees to a local school and had a little planting ceremony with all the families and everything. So darn cute.
I LOVE THIS FAMILY:
L to R: yours truly, Guillermo, Manu, Lara, Marcela, Rochelle (christened 'Ro' during our time with the Barulich's)
And then it was on to CORDOBA...
Friday morning of that week, the group split in two for Semana Santa travels (the long Easter weekend). The Córdoba crew departed from Rosario in the pouring rain. (Almost-not-so)fun fact about the Argentine bus system: they don't tell you which platform your bus leaves from specifically, only a range, and the name on the side of the bus may or may not match the name on your ticket. How do I know this? We almost missed our bus because we were patrolling our designated range of platforms looking for a bus from our company, when it was actually there the whole time under a different company name. But, fortunately, Megann had the genius idea of asking the bus driver (how logical!) and so then we sprinted on just as it was about to leave. Disaster averted. Next (almost-not-so)fun fact: Semana Santa is prime vacation time for Argentineans…which means that booking bus tickets/hostel spaces in advance is imperative otherwise it's extremely difficult to find any space. Now, this should not have been a problem, because we booked everything we needed in advance. However, we arrived in Córdoba that night after a seven bus ride and showed up at our hostel, where we were informed that they had no reservations for our group (of five) and, furthermore, that they had absolutely no space.
Shit.
After some moments of panic, we began calling hostels. Result: more panic, because nobody had space. Finally we found one that had four beds available, so we decided to show up at their doorstep and beg to let us share a bed, so that we wouldn't have to split into two groups. The gods/fairies/Che's-protective-spirit of Córdoba travel were looking out for us, because not only did they let us share a bed for the night, but they also had space for the rest of the weekend and it turned about to be an WONDERFUL hostel – amazingly helpful staff, rad people to hang out with – basically the perfect situation for us. Second disaster averted.
For the rest of that night, we went out to dinner [food tangent: redwine.redwine.redwine. it is sooooo delicious here] and then hung out at the hostel, basically staying up all night chatting and sharing music with a group of guys from BA also on vacation.
Saturday, Day 1: We broke down and did a tourist activity: a guided tour of Alta Gracia, a town outside of Córdoba ciudad capital, located in the hills surrounding the city. I LOVED leaving the city environment for a bit, especially because I have realized that I need a varied landscape (i.e. hills, mountains, water) to feel 100% comfortable in an environment (as opposed to the flat, flat, flat of the Sante Fe and greater BA). Also, Alta Gracia just happens to the town where Ernesto Che Guevarra grew up, the site of an old Jesuit mission, and the town where Manuel De Falla lived later in his life (and where he died) – destinations which destinations we visited with our tour.
mission visions:
house of Che, where he lived from age 4 to 16ish:
La poderosa (a replica) - ultimate road trip vehicle of his Motorcycle Diaries fame
three-cornered house:
View from his house...not bad.
Composer caricatures game- can you guess (slash read) who's who??
Epic sunset on the bus ride back to the city.
We got back that night, napped, dined out, and attempted to find some hopping clubs. Kind of a fail, but we did find some quality ice-cream (which is far more satisfying in some respects). We had already decided we were going to stay up till at least 6, because Megann was returning to BA Sunday on a 6 a.m. bus (she didn't want to go home on the bus the rest of us would take – you'll see why) and we didn't want her waiting at the station alone. So we wandered a bit till then, got Megann on her bus, and went back to catch a few winks.
Sunday, Day 2: Sunday had a lazy start (for obvious reasons), but then we just wandered around the whole city [tangent: all cities seem small and highly walkable compared to BA, now), explored a cathedral or two, the parks, etc. It was quite delightful, and by the end of the day Córdoba had won me over.
One of the highlights: dancing waters to the music of Queen. Oh yes it happened.
We were pacing ourselves with a late dinner, night activities, etc. because we knew we would be up till at least 3 a.m. again. Here's why: when we purchased our tickets to return to Buenos Aires from Córdoba the week before, there was already very limited selection. Our options came down to going home at 6 am on Sunday and therefore losing Sunday in Córdoba (which Megann decided to do) or taking an overnight bus that left Córdoba at 3:00 a.m. early Monday morning. You can guess which one the rest of us chose. Keep in mind that we had class at 1:30 that same Monday and the bus ride was an estimated 9 hours. But we decided to go for it, so we could get most possible out our time in Córdoba.
Lookin chipper at the Cordoba bus station at 3:00 a.m. Takes some skill, let me tell you.
We arrived back in Buenos Aires in one piece, albeit an hour late to class…toting luggage straight from the bus station…without having done the homework…
Whatevs, Ev. It was worth it.
I'll try to get in another post on regular life updates since Pujato and Córdoba before I leave for Brazil and Paraguay on Sunday (!!!), but no promises.
Besos a todos.
Very young children are not accepted in most hostels, and this is just for their safety.
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