Farm life began with a BANG, or maybe it was more like a subtle plop followed by rigorous pounding, what am I describing?? The sound of a black sheep COLLAPSING onto the green lawn and then the delivery of CPR (including mouth to mouth, my friends!!!!) by our veterinarian hostess, Ines. The dead sheep was then hoisted over Ines' shoulders and brought back to the house for a proper burial, cross covered grave included. The respect for life mixed with bouts of hilarity proceeded to be the theme for our weeklong stay.
We were surprised to learn that 'our farm' was also the farm of 16 other backpackers. This meant the Argentinian lifestyle was slightly diluted by the presence of so many AWESOME foreigners, so we decided to cut our two weeks in half and just enjoy 7 days.
Our time was filled with painting boards, picking apples, digging for potatoes, chopping gathered wild mushrooms, making juice, kneading bread, and--a majority of the time--CRACKING WALNUTS. The word on the farm was that they paid for our food with the nuts, and apparently we were eating a LOT OF FOOD because we were gathering, cracking, and peeling them ALL DAY, E'ERY DAY.
We prided ourselves in REVOLUTIONIZING the nut gathering system, instead of passively picking them off the ground, we were proactive in creating an abundance of nuts to collect. We'd climb the trees and then SHAKE the limbs profusely until a maelstrom of nuts were plummeting to the ground. (This was all done in the back of the property, where the owners were less likely to notice the small amount of damage we were incurring on their trees.) Cracking the nuts was the most time consuming part of the process, and therefore most social. Sitting around wooden tables, next to the indoor open air fireplace, we heard stories of backpacking the Appalachian Trail, Ireland in the winter, and practiced French pronunciation ("BU-BLEH-BU-BLEH-BU-BLEH!! You hear zee deeferenzz??"). While conversing, we'd switch between English and Spanish depending on the fluency levels on the people present, using every opportunity to teach and learn by incorporating Spanish words.
The end of our week was celebrated in style with an Argentinian barbecue, an ASADO! Arriving back at the farm after our morning off, we made our way to the bonfire with the required utensils: a mason jar for drinks and a steak knife. There we found 4 metal crosses stabbed into the dirt around the fire with flayed LAMB CARCASSES wired to each of them. On our sides the neighboring gauchos (who arrived ON HORSEBACK) turned rosy cheeks from the fire's heat and the wine-filled animal bladder they passed around. Meanwhile, we watched the meat smoke to perfection with grumbling stomachs. Soon (an hour=soon in tiempo Argentino), we were being handed hunks of bread, queuing to pick our preferred chunk of meat (and I mean hunks and chunks), and eating a cabbage salad with forks from a communal bowl. The food was delicious and plentiful, but before food coma fullness could set in, the fiesta picked up again and there was dancing and accordion playing to be had. This was 4pm, and the party continued until 4am. THEY GO HARD!!
All in all, a fabulous week. Not the small time subsistence we were looking for, but nevertheless the friends we made and fun we had made for a bittersweet goodbye. But the beautiful Lake District of Argentina called, and I'm not one to ignore that sort of invitation.... so here we go, hitch hiking onward!!
PS sorry about the paucity of pictures, our photographer took a week off
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| Dead sheep #1 |
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| Dead Sheep #2 |
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| Some of our FRENCHIES gathered around |
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| The gauchos carving away... and yes that is a home knit sweater vest |
What kind of gravy they serve with their meat?
ReplyDeleteSounds like fun. Bring home a wine bladder
Haha it was a "special sauce"... although I'm pretty sure it was just pepper, oregano, and oil in a wine bottle. Will work on the wine bladder (but not too hard).
ReplyDelete