There is a man at the hostel in Barreal--a brilliant, sharp, well.traveled individual--who I have spoken to a lot. A studied sociologist turned bank exec, he is clearly very well-off, although he doesn`t flaunt it. He loves his country and spends his time traveling its towns on business and for pleasure. Although for him, Barreal has his heart and he spends all of his free time here.
I have met a lot of people in hostels, and I will continue to meet a lot more. If I could write a character profile on each, I would...but there are mountains to climb and I´m busy elsewhere. But something about this man is worth noting. He wrote a book called ``Historias Minimas. Experiencias Maximas.`` Because his coorporate job gave him the opportunity to travel so much within South America, he has been able to meet and converse with a lot of people. His book is essentially about his travels, in terms of the people he has met and the stories he has heard.
Let`s apply his concept to the hostel in Barreal--Posado Don Lisandro. There are 6 people here, not including me. All of them are part of the family that runs the hostel, and they range from age 2 to 87. The oldest woman has four children and eight grandchildren. Her husband and she are from San Juan, but have lived all around the world (including DC) because her husband is a brilliant engineer. Even as she tells me she is ready to die and know her time comes soon, she speaks with a twinkle in her eye and stresses the importance of travel and cultural exchange. She doesn`t look a day over 65. The owners are a young couple in their 30s. They moved to Barreal four years ago and began this hostel. Their little boy is bound to grow up in a multi-cultural home surrounded by people from all over the world. Historias minimas. In the grand scheme of things.
But experiencia maximas. This is a home. Since I have been here, I have been treated like family. Four generations. Filled with life, generosity, curiousity, warmth, love, spark. The feeling I have when I am in this home won`t be forgotten...even if some of their details will. Experiencia maximas.
I have a feeling that over the next five and a half months, I am bound to find much of the same situation. Many people, each with their own story. And while I won´t remember them all, I know I´ll be touched and changed in a way that only hindsight can reveal.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Las montañas de Barreal (Sunday November 28th--Day 19)
So these are the Andes. Maybe it is the sheer magnitude of the peaks, the vast length of the range, or the fact that I`m in South America...but these mountains seem completely unsurmountable. It`s as if their snow-covered peaks and jagged slops mark the end of the world. They`re holding us all together...or keeping something hidden. They`re completely in control, and I cannot conquer them. It`s the way mountains are supposed to be, I suppose. But I want them, nonetheless. Even though I`m overwhelmed and distanced with an intense feeling of awe, fear, respect, and curiousity.
This stretch of the Andes that rises above the Calingasta valley is known as the Cordilleras. These peaks have been sacred for centuries, dating back to when the Incas from Peru would come down the valley to trade and mine in the Mendoza area. From my perch on the Precordilleras accross the valley, I can see seven major peaks, two of which are the highest in the Americas. I can understand why they´re sacred. Untouchable.
I spent the morning hiking in the Precordilleras, a colorful, rocky, dry, desert mountain range that runs parallel to the Cordillera. Even though the peaks look so close, I can tell by the shadows of clouds on the desert below that they are miles and miles away. From my cliff, I looked down on the lush, shady, tranquil town of Barreal that I spent the morning lazilly wandering through the willow`covered streets and I wondered if the familes, the people, the households I saw are moved by these mountains. Are these mountains as feared, loved, and revered as much as they should be? Or are they taken for granted? Who knows. But for now...I can sit in peace and know for certain that one person in Barreal fears, loves, and revers these mountains.
This stretch of the Andes that rises above the Calingasta valley is known as the Cordilleras. These peaks have been sacred for centuries, dating back to when the Incas from Peru would come down the valley to trade and mine in the Mendoza area. From my perch on the Precordilleras accross the valley, I can see seven major peaks, two of which are the highest in the Americas. I can understand why they´re sacred. Untouchable.
I spent the morning hiking in the Precordilleras, a colorful, rocky, dry, desert mountain range that runs parallel to the Cordillera. Even though the peaks look so close, I can tell by the shadows of clouds on the desert below that they are miles and miles away. From my cliff, I looked down on the lush, shady, tranquil town of Barreal that I spent the morning lazilly wandering through the willow`covered streets and I wondered if the familes, the people, the households I saw are moved by these mountains. Are these mountains as feared, loved, and revered as much as they should be? Or are they taken for granted? Who knows. But for now...I can sit in peace and know for certain that one person in Barreal fears, loves, and revers these mountains.
Ciego de Color (Thursday November 25th--Day 16)
This conversation really struck me. Maybe it was because it was Thanksgiving and I was feeling particularly attentive. Or maybe it was because it mirrored one of the lessons we had in San Paulo, Brazil on IHP. The topic: racism in Argentina. Or rather: the non-existence of racism in Argentina.
So the whole family was sitting outside under the apricot tree, drinking cerveza, smoking cigarettes, and talking casually. Next thing I know, Pedro asked me about racism in the US. I told him that it is still present--mentally and structurally--but it is fading with each generation. He pitied the situation, and said that in Argentina there is no racism. None at all. Everything is perfect.
That`s what people say about Brazil. A color-blind country where everyone is so beautifully blended that skin has no power. In IHP; we learned to question that notion and dig a little deeper. What we found was that in Brazil, a higher percentage of homeless and squatters are of darker skin tones. Clearly, some form of racism was creating these divisions. Brazil´s color-blind can distinguish shades. Apparently.
Knowing that, I began to prod a little bit. I asked about immigration and Pedro conceited that many people do have a problem with Bolivians and Peruvians who come to the country, work hard for nothing, and take Argentinian jobs. But this, for him, is a prejudice based on money and nationality and not on race. Whatever. A prejudice is a predufice. And besides...race is scientifically unproven. So this counts, and it is a problem. Next, I started asking about Argentina´s history with Nazism after and during WWII (when many Nazis fled to South America). I was told that this trend was based primarilly in the South and is expressed as religious stereotypes against Jews. So there`s another prejudice. Then Lucia began talking about the huge prejudice of old money in B.A. against new money in the rest of the country. Prejudice 3. And if I could extrapolate, I would assume this extends to class prejudice in this consumer society, much like the class prejudice that exists in the US. That`s 4. Later, I began to think about my recent run-in with a drunk religious fanatic at Defuncta Correa, a shrine to a local saint. This man continuously claimed that he and his fellow Catholics have no problems with anyone, except for Mormons and non Catholic Christians. 5.
The point is, even a seemingly color-blind nation has its stereotypes and prejudices. In comparison, Argentina does pretty well. If there is tension, it is minimal and hidden. But it still exists. And rather than continue to deny potential conflicts, it may be a better idea for the people of Argentina to talk about these topics and acknowledge their existence before they escalate to a degree that can no longer be ignored.
So the whole family was sitting outside under the apricot tree, drinking cerveza, smoking cigarettes, and talking casually. Next thing I know, Pedro asked me about racism in the US. I told him that it is still present--mentally and structurally--but it is fading with each generation. He pitied the situation, and said that in Argentina there is no racism. None at all. Everything is perfect.
That`s what people say about Brazil. A color-blind country where everyone is so beautifully blended that skin has no power. In IHP; we learned to question that notion and dig a little deeper. What we found was that in Brazil, a higher percentage of homeless and squatters are of darker skin tones. Clearly, some form of racism was creating these divisions. Brazil´s color-blind can distinguish shades. Apparently.
Knowing that, I began to prod a little bit. I asked about immigration and Pedro conceited that many people do have a problem with Bolivians and Peruvians who come to the country, work hard for nothing, and take Argentinian jobs. But this, for him, is a prejudice based on money and nationality and not on race. Whatever. A prejudice is a predufice. And besides...race is scientifically unproven. So this counts, and it is a problem. Next, I started asking about Argentina´s history with Nazism after and during WWII (when many Nazis fled to South America). I was told that this trend was based primarilly in the South and is expressed as religious stereotypes against Jews. So there`s another prejudice. Then Lucia began talking about the huge prejudice of old money in B.A. against new money in the rest of the country. Prejudice 3. And if I could extrapolate, I would assume this extends to class prejudice in this consumer society, much like the class prejudice that exists in the US. That`s 4. Later, I began to think about my recent run-in with a drunk religious fanatic at Defuncta Correa, a shrine to a local saint. This man continuously claimed that he and his fellow Catholics have no problems with anyone, except for Mormons and non Catholic Christians. 5.
The point is, even a seemingly color-blind nation has its stereotypes and prejudices. In comparison, Argentina does pretty well. If there is tension, it is minimal and hidden. But it still exists. And rather than continue to deny potential conflicts, it may be a better idea for the people of Argentina to talk about these topics and acknowledge their existence before they escalate to a degree that can no longer be ignored.
Los Enfermos (Tuesday November 23rd--Day 14)
These last 28 hours were like a dream...and now the wonderful, blissful, please-sir-may-I-have-another kind of dream. This was the painful, slow, can`t-tell-if-I`m-awake-or-asleep kind of dream.
The culprit--food poisening meets heat exhaustion. The whole farm was hit by it. It took out each and every one of us, one by one, until we were all bed-ridden. For the strong, they were back to work after a few hours. For those of us who were too afraid to eat or drink on an upset stomach, we were unable to move for hours due to dehydration.
But the good news is: (a) it was boung to happen eventually. (b) we were all in this together. and (c) I learned new nursing techniques...like putting cold potato slices on your head to suck out the fever.
All better now!
The culprit--food poisening meets heat exhaustion. The whole farm was hit by it. It took out each and every one of us, one by one, until we were all bed-ridden. For the strong, they were back to work after a few hours. For those of us who were too afraid to eat or drink on an upset stomach, we were unable to move for hours due to dehydration.
But the good news is: (a) it was boung to happen eventually. (b) we were all in this together. and (c) I learned new nursing techniques...like putting cold potato slices on your head to suck out the fever.
All better now!
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Buen Provecho: Part 2 (Wednesday November 24--Day 12)
When life gives you apricots, make....everything.
I most certainly underestimated the total farm´s total production of apricots. From these few trees, we get about seven kilos a day. This may not seem like a lot, but it is...and it´s a full time job. Every morning, the floor is peppered with fallen apricots. By noon, after we have swept them up, cleaned them, pitted them, and cooked them, more has fallen.
So what, then, does one small farm do with so many apricots? We make jam (the must sugar-filled jam I`ve ever had), dried apricots, aapricot bread, apricot ice cream, apricot and straw concoction for the animals.
Such a simple food with such a wide range of uses. They benifit us now and they`ll benefit us months from now. It`s pretty neat. Although, I think it is safe to say that once I leave here I will never want another apricot again.
I most certainly underestimated the total farm´s total production of apricots. From these few trees, we get about seven kilos a day. This may not seem like a lot, but it is...and it´s a full time job. Every morning, the floor is peppered with fallen apricots. By noon, after we have swept them up, cleaned them, pitted them, and cooked them, more has fallen.
So what, then, does one small farm do with so many apricots? We make jam (the must sugar-filled jam I`ve ever had), dried apricots, aapricot bread, apricot ice cream, apricot and straw concoction for the animals.
Such a simple food with such a wide range of uses. They benifit us now and they`ll benefit us months from now. It`s pretty neat. Although, I think it is safe to say that once I leave here I will never want another apricot again.
La Granja como un proceso (Saturday November 20th--Day 9)
As I said before, Pedro and Lucia began their work on the farm a little over two years ago. Before, their 15 hectors of land consisted of a small house, a field of rocks, wild trees, unruly bushes, and loads of grass. Under any circumstance, the current state of the farm is something to marvel at. However, what makes the granja´s progress even more remarkable is a combination of its piecemeal construction and longterm vision. Imagine...Pedro and Lucia (with suggestions from various volunteers) have detailed what they want this farm to become. As workers and WWOOFers, we stay for a month or two, complete or improve a few projects, and leave. We don´t see a final masterpiece, but we know what has already been accomplished and we trush in edro and Lucia´s leadership.
The best example I can provide is the current construction project. Four months ago, WWOOFers began to construct a small, hexagon-shaped building made from earth, rocks, and wood. This project--produced and designed almost entirely by Antonio the French--has had the help from dozens of volunteers over the months. Everyone contributes a small detail and piece by piece, with Antonio´s guidance, this building has come together. And although I personally may never see the final touches, I know it will be a glorious addition to a growing and changing property.
Vision, trust, leadership, hard work. All there. And little by little the granja transforms.
The best example I can provide is the current construction project. Four months ago, WWOOFers began to construct a small, hexagon-shaped building made from earth, rocks, and wood. This project--produced and designed almost entirely by Antonio the French--has had the help from dozens of volunteers over the months. Everyone contributes a small detail and piece by piece, with Antonio´s guidance, this building has come together. And although I personally may never see the final touches, I know it will be a glorious addition to a growing and changing property.
Vision, trust, leadership, hard work. All there. And little by little the granja transforms.
Monday, November 22, 2010
Buen Provecho: Part 1 (Friday November 19th--Day 8)
Welcome to the world of glorious food. As Pedro--the farm´s owner-- so insightfully stated: ^We have barely finished this meal and already we´re planning tomorrow´s.^
Let me explain how meals work around here. And by `here`I mean Argentina in general. For breakfast, you wake up and eat whatever small substance you find lying around. Usually, this means bread and mate, or the occasional oatmeal and pastry. For dinner, you also eat whatever you can find lying around. More bread and mate, or leftovers. Now lunch. Lunch. There´s a meal. There´s an experience. Everyone--friends and family--stop whatever they were doing to come together to share a huge meal that someone has spent all morning cooking from fresh, local ingredients.
Already on the farm, I´ve had the most deliciously fresh chicken soup, homemade meatballs, a rice and meat dish, fresh ice cream, tons of meat, liver and potatoes, some more meat, sausage, and more meat. It´s all cooked to perfection. The ingredients are seasonal. The cook spent hours preparing it. And you´re sharing it with a fantastic group of people over great conversation. Like I said, perfection.
Let me explain how meals work around here. And by `here`I mean Argentina in general. For breakfast, you wake up and eat whatever small substance you find lying around. Usually, this means bread and mate, or the occasional oatmeal and pastry. For dinner, you also eat whatever you can find lying around. More bread and mate, or leftovers. Now lunch. Lunch. There´s a meal. There´s an experience. Everyone--friends and family--stop whatever they were doing to come together to share a huge meal that someone has spent all morning cooking from fresh, local ingredients.
Already on the farm, I´ve had the most deliciously fresh chicken soup, homemade meatballs, a rice and meat dish, fresh ice cream, tons of meat, liver and potatoes, some more meat, sausage, and more meat. It´s all cooked to perfection. The ingredients are seasonal. The cook spent hours preparing it. And you´re sharing it with a fantastic group of people over great conversation. Like I said, perfection.
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