Argentina: What Actually Went Down

Perhaps you’re thinking: apparently Nadine is spending her year knee-deep in muck, alone except for the crocodiles and the birders, thinking mushy thoughts. That’s always going to be part of the story here, but I have actually spent some time with people, doing various things. Here are assorted tidbits from that.

(Introduction interlude: here is a carpincho, the spanish name for cabybara, aka the largest rodent on earth. They are quite large, quite prevalent, and, even to my vegetarian eyes, begging to become snack food for some hungry animal).

On Day One in Argentina, I got my first glimpses of the famed BsAs—from 8-11am on a rainy Sunday morning, meaning that during the cab ride from the airport to the foundation office, the only souls in sight were those dragging themselves home after a night out. I felt somewhat underwhelmed.

After a bit of work and a lot of effort to extricate the car from the shut & seemingly abandoned garage, we headed north toward El Potrero, the estancia of Azul and Marcos. Alas, smooth sailing was not in the cards: by the time we stopped for gas on the outskirts of the city, the car was regurgitating antifreeze all over the place. A crew of red & yellow jumpsuit-clad gas station attendants gathered to watch, but none could do much to help. So we decided to switch this car out with one parked at a friend’s house nearby. The problem was, we only sort of knew where that was. Two hours of “I think this seems right” and “Maybe I remember this…” ensued, before house and car were located.

Visiting this beautifully restored farm, which now is half cultivated, half conserved, gave me a fascinating and unusual introduction to this country: while most of what I’ve heard about it has come from students hanging out in eclectic bustle of BsAs, I got to see the elegant and stately life of the landed aristocracy, so to speak. Needless to say, I felt thoroughly intimidated. The house, with various courtyards, enormously high ceilings, and heavy dark wood furniture, reminded me far more of a European estate than any house I’d visited in Latin America. At dinner, the guests were served strictly in order of gender and importance; who came up with this formula, I have no idea, but it seemed quite unbreakable.

On Day Two, I hopped in the Husky, as mentioned in a previous post, and flew north with Doug. We stopped at the beautiful Laguna Blanca, where a meticulous restoration effort is transforming it into a model small-scale organic farm. To minimize weeds, the various grains are sown in undulating strips that follow the anti-erosion contour terraces. From the air, these patterns look more like avant-garde land art than a working farm. But, as far as I can tell, the system seems effective (although who knows how cost-effective); the wheat is apparently some of the best-looking around.

On Day Three, I got another fantastic Husky experience, hopping around between the various ranches and conservation projects, trying to get a sense of this enormous operation. Towards the end of the day, we stopped in at San Alonso, out on an island in the middle of the marshes, where I had my first experience with mate—which I found very bitter…need to get used to that! We got to chat with Omar and his family, real paisanos of Corrientes; they explained the various components of the customary dress to me. My favorite part is the “opinion” around the neck: the color of the scarf they where indicates what political party they belong to!

On Day Four, I saw the fencing. Who would have guessed that in the small settlement of Socorro, in the middle of the marshes, in one of Argentina’s most rural provinces, fencing would be the big sport? Well, it is: the nine children who go to school here take fencing lessons as part of gym class, because one of the teachers, Javi, is a big fencer. Doug fences twice a day with him and his friend, who comes up to give intensive fencing lessons every month or so. They use various pathways leading up to houses, which creates a very “storming the castle” type feeling.

Day Five was less eventful, because I was sitting in on the annual budget meetings for most of the day. The best part was this nature documentary about the campaign to reintroduce giant anteaters into the marshes. The narration was in the hilariously overly dramatic voice of the genre, which, for some reason, I found even more amusing in Spanish. The story is fantastic, though: one of the anteaters has given birth in the wild; all eight of them are alive and well.

I started feeling a little cooped up and less-than-enthused about the amount of time I’ve been spending in front of my computer, because what made me excited to come down her was the possibility of spending a lot of time outside in beautiful places, not tip-tapping away on various minor projects. Then again, I try to remind myself, I didn’t want this year to just be Outdoor Play Time, as Jo calls it, because that alone strikes me as self-indulgent and ultimately boring. Finding the balance, as with all things, is the tricky part, because getting outside gives me so much more enthusiasm about this work and these places—so even if it’s not productive in any measurable way, it’s an important part of the equation. Listening and learning has been really interesting so far; it’s finding chunks of meaningful work that’s a bit more challenging. But this, I imagine, will come with time.

On Day Six, I made friends. I’d been minorly friendly with some of the various people we’d been meeting with, but not in a let’s-hang-out way. When I went off on the aforementioned birding boat trip, I got to chat with Romina, who helps out with trips at the hosteria, and Javi and Tomas, of fencing fame. (Side note: I hate it when travel updates are packed with names of people it seems like you should know; I’m just trying to keep things vaguely clear here). We had an asado—Argentine for BBQ, but classier—afterwards. The chit-chatting included a lengthy discussion of my vegetarianism, during which I got going on the horrors of CAFOs (industrial feedlots), until the guy sitting across from me announced that he worked for the largest importer of meat into the US, most of which comes from feedlots. Awkwardness ensued.

That evening, I had dinner and chillax-time with my three new friends. I was psyched to hear about life in Socorro from people close to my age, since one question I have about these revitalized small communities is how they work for young people. Getting a taste of the gossip of the place wasn’t bad either.

Day Seven was a whirlwind adventure. Romina called in the morning to see if I wanted to tag along on a horseback ride to the marshes, so off I trotted (the horse, however, only walked, at a pretty staid pace). Although “riding” consisted of sitting and tugging the reins either right or left across the horse’s neck, I still managed to feel a bit sore after a few hours in the saddle. More birds were spotted. Then friends of the Tompkins arrived, and the celebrity tour of the property began. We flew out to San Alonso for lunch, then to another ranch for a quick inspection, and after a nap& run break, enjoyed another asado.

Day Eight was much the same, except that I had to drive them to the lake for a boat tour. That’s right, everyone, yours truly, one of the worst drivers in the world, was entrusted with the lives of these important guests during the hour-long dirt-road drive—AND we all survived. Progress truly does exist in the world. Oh, and then we hopped in their private jet to head off to BsAs, stopping at Laguna Blanca on the way. When I arrived at the cushy domestic airport/ private jetport with a collection of various seed-pods I had picked up in hand, I started thinking that dirtbag little Nadine might have gotten herself in way over her head on the poshness front…

My day in BsAs, aka Day Nine, was spent mostly at the office. I did get out and see a bit of the city during a midday walk through the beautiful parks in the neighborhood, which gave me a better sense of why so many people rave about the city. All the spring trees were in bloom, tons of people were out and about, doin’ their thing, and the whole place seemed zanily alive.

The next day, early early, we headed off for Chile. AND HERE, you’ll be delighted to know, the update stops.