We’re heading out for a day in the country. A bit bourgeois, I know, but very exciting. We wake up early and catch the 7:30 bus heading from Retiro to San Antonio de Areco, a small, dusty but pretty town with a well-landscaped plaza, a bunch of silversmith shops, and some very comfortable-looking houses. San Antonio de Areco is known for being the home of the gauchos (aka the Argentine cowboys)—in fact, they have some kind of gaucho-fest every November. Might be worth the visit, but I’ll be in the south.
After taking a walk through town, we hop in a remiso (a gypsy cab, more or less), and head out to the estancia. The car has a fatally-cracked windshield, and the driver seems very committed to driving on the wrong side of the dirt road (it was a bit smoother over there, although not so safe).
And finally we arrive at the Estancia El Ombú! The owner gives us a fast-moving but thorough tour of the place. She inherited the estancia from her parents, who bought it from the original Italian owners. These Italians built the place in the style of home, so the estancia is well-outfitted in marble and Italian tile, with wide verandas and a tree-lined driveway reminiscent of an antebellum plantation.
Derya and I immediately set off for a ride with our Gaucha. I haven’t been on a horse in years and years, so needless to say the muscles I’d developed in college to keep me on board had since atrophied. The saddles are sort of a light version of the western type with a lot of padding underneath. My horse is a bit on the slow side, as is Derya’s, and they have to be constantly prodded to maintain a brisk walking pace. The gaucha’s horse, on the other hand, has a lot of pep and gives her a bit of trouble.
The slow pace gives us a good chance to enjoy the scenery, and really, it's amazing pretty:
We have our welcome drink when we arrive back at the Estancia and an empanada de carne apiece (Empanada count: 7). Then we hang out for a bit and wait for lunch.
The lunch is a parilla, so basically, a big meat-fest with some wine and salad. They carry each course of meat around on platters so that we can pick which piece we want. First come the sausages, chorizo and morcilla (blood sausage). I try the blood sausage, and while I find it was pretty tasty, it's also a little gross, so I don't quite finish it. Now comes the rest of the meat: at least three different cuts of steak, two different cuts of rib meat, some chicken, and maybe even some pork. Tasty.
Here’s a picture of our lunch group:
A gaucho singer accompanies our desert, a brick of ice cream and a small coffee. His name is Oscar, and he’s quite a talented singer (he’s also remarkably patient with the obnoxious man taking his picture over the course of five minutes from a distance of about six inches). The gaucho songs are reminiscent of the songs of American cowboys, you know, a bit melodramatic with themes of the peaceful loneliness of the lifestyle...
Following Oscar was the gaucho horsemanship show. I think the pics might have to speak for themselves here…
And after lunch, more riding! Derya decided to bag the second ride in favor of sitting on the veranda and finishing off our table’s bottle of wine (in her defense, she’d done a big, traumatizing ride while down in Calafate), so I set out with our other tablemates for the afternoon ride. Our gaucho for this ride is a young guy who thought it would be a fantastic idea to have us just gallop across the pampas for a few hours. And really, it was fantastic. It took be a bit of time to find my seat. And of course, my horse for the afternoon was the gaucha’s troublesome (and did I mention huge?) beast from the morning.
But we got along quite well, and it was super-fun to go so fast. We covered a huge amount of territory and saw all kinds of stuff.
Back to the estancia, back to the bus station, back to a café in town to wait for our departure time, back to the bus station, and back to Buenos Aires. My legs will hurt for the next three days.
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