Fiesta de Tradicion in Antonio de Areco - almost....

Finally the Dia de la Tradicion arrived in San Antonio de Areco. Twice postponed, once because on the original day the whole town and its surroundings, as well as access roads were all under water with a couple of bridges being washed out as well.
With hopes riding high for an improvement, the festival was re scheduled for the weekend of 22 November - a long weekend in Argentina - which usually involves a lot of fiesta-ing anyway. That was creating too much of a conflict, as well as the fair grounds not having dried enough for horse related competitions anyway.
The municipality of San Antonio re-scheduled the Grand Event for this weekend, by which time the heat wave had baked the mud being left behind from the floods had been baked into hard clay.
I took the 'micro', long distance bus, to San Antonio, a journey which brought home the extend of the flooding of a few  weeks ago. Debris hanging from fence wires at six feet height, whole creek banks washed away, trees and brush torn away by raging waters and deposited in unusual places, sink holes....large areas of previously green fields and river banks had turned into mountains of baked mud.

Ponte Viejo - surrounded by mud banks..

San Antonio's Ponte Viejo, old bridge, was still disconnected from adjoining roads, as the flood waters had carved out a significant mud canyon where the road used to connect to the bridge.
Forecast...30 degrees heat until Friday, with Saturday and Sunday 'tormentas' (rain storms) on the horizon. The festivities on the campo, the large fields just outside town, started non-the less.

The Park adjoining Areco River had dried out. Although the bridge leading to the 'campo', the Fiesta Grounds, was out, it was possible for pedestrians to clamber over dried out mud and an old concrete and iron weir to get to the other side. Horse used 'the highway bridge' sharing it with trucks, buses, motor cycles and cars.

Streets of Areco resounded with hoof beats, as gauchos brought their 'tropillas' to the fair grounds. All but the mare being led by the rider by a halter, were completely free, but followed the lead mare, madrina, with her bell without being distracted by anything. 

Hundreds of horses 'hanging out'

La Doma, kind of bronc riding' started out the competition. The idea is, that a gaucho climbs onto one of these bucking horses, after it has been tied - blind folded - to a pole. Once the blindfold comes off, the horse knows the show has began, and bucks, rears, bunny hops and twists and turns to unseat the rider, who usually hits the ground pretty quick. The most skillful riders hang on, and are within seconds 'rescued' from their mount at full gallop by a couple of mounted helpers.

On of the helpers delivering 'the leathers'

Well, here the horse went one way, and the rider another

Sometimes the horses get mixed up and start 'the wild' act, before they are even mounted or blind folded.

And another down....

Accidents happen, this one ending without the unseated rider being kicked by flying hoofs. The horses are usually smart enough to get rid of their mounts without any harm being done to them....

The whip is not used to hit, but it involved a lot of waving around in the air, to show that the rider is up there only using one hand for the reins

Once the blind fold - and the tie up - come off and the horse is free to start bucking and kicking, which sometimes makes for interesting escapes for the assistants.

Their turn will come

Ooops....and here comes the 'tormenta'....the skies darkened threateningly, and yellow clouds of dust swirled a couple of meters above the horizon and the trees. This fiesta may stop before it had time to really get into full swing.

It's a family outing. If wife and children are not mounted on one of the gauchos horses, they turn up in trucks and bikes...

Dust sweeping across the playing field....

Will the competition of tropillas take place? There must be a few dozen of these horse troupes, hailing from all around the surrounding pampa, waiting to all enter the playing field together and being kept under control by their gauchos - without halters to keep them close to him

Short tails, and volumes of sheep skin and cloth for saddles....

Chat time....

Gaucho with his wife, son, dog and tropilla enjoying one of the gaucho 'vices' - smoking

Most gauchos wear boinas, where gauchos develop their unique personal 'fashion statement' in their manner of wearing these caps.

Hanging out at 'the bar'

Rather flamboyant way of wearing a boina.

Yes, this is how the bar scene looks like on the open campo...

A blue eyed Criollo horse...

Madrina and her bell

A tropilla of paints, with the madrina being a bay, and the gaucho riding a palomino

But.....the rain starts, it suddenly turns freezing cold, the wind blows through the tents which the gauchos have put up for accommodation and socializing. Out come the ponchos. I joined these guys for a few minutes, when the heavens opened up.

Trees do not offer any protection when it really rains in the pampas

A tropilla of greys leaving the grounds

Tails tucked in and totally drenched, a tropilla of mixed colour crowds around their madrina, which is being held by her gaucho under a tree.

Present time afford a gaucho more effective rain protection than the trusty poncho used to do.

The gaucho? Who knows where, his tropilla patiently waits with their madrina (the
only one tied to a fence post). The horses are used to these biblical down pours with incredible winds, as they spend their entire lives outdoors in all kinds of weather.

Another drenched outfit leaving the grounds

Some gauchos and their horses used the tiled patio of a hacienda to enjoy a minute break from the rain

Heading back to town, now along streets that have again turned into canals of sticky mud

Keeping to the grassy bits...

At least the riders had the option of navigating the streets on horseback. When I back tracked my way back to town, all the 'gravel' and dirt roads, and packed dirt paths had turned into pure gumbo: deep, sticky and slippery. I crossed the river via the weir again (getting there was half the fun) but had to 'bum hop' along the railing, as walking in the mud was impossible: one step and several pounds of wet clay hung like a heavy sack from my shoes.
Needless to say, the rest of the Fiesta was flushed down the drain....No evening open fires in the campo, with asados (BBQ's) and music and 'bailecitos' - dancing. The asados, which have been sending out smoke columns and scent of slowly grilling meat over wood ashes, were extinguished within minutes. Where does the soaked meat finish up???
Somehow, horses and people disappeared into sheets of rain. The town (prepared and ready for the grand parade scheduled for Sunday) seemed deserted. But, where does a gaucho (and a few people 'in the know') go when things go south? The boliche, the local watering hole.

Boliche de Bessonart, when it is not raining....

Well, that's the idea of a boliche - watering hole...

Watering holes need ttoilets. This one has a sign saying: the toilets get plugged if one throws paper into them.

With typical Argentinian resourcefulness the problem is solved simply by not providing  toilet paper.

Drink of choice - apart from cerveza, red wine mixed with Coca Cola and a couple of ice cubes. Well, gauchos have eccentric taste.

No fiesta, no parade, no BBQ, no street dancing, no horse competition......the only place in town with a sign of life.

Sunday dawns to another rainy day. By now it would take another lengthy heat wave to dry the town out, albeit it is not flooded again.  That would spell disaster for the little town.
Returned by bus a day early and watched rain soaked fields, highway shoulders washed away somewhat more than before, and ditches filled to overflowing. Storm drains - where there are any - plugged up with garbage and storm debris.
Well,  there is always next year to finish off the festivities.....

 

Transit Strike in Buenos Aires

Another strike in Buenos Aires, a city of 13 million people, this time enhanced by the additional complication of a wide-spread power outage, which paralyses city life somewhat more. A high tension line is out somewhere...

High tension amongst the populace makes up for the lack of power. All buses, trains, subways stopped work at five a.m. and officially re-started at seven a.m. However, by that time 270 traffic lights had stopped functioning and 100 % more commuter cars plugged up down town crossings. Never mind the thousands of households affected by the power outage...

Long distance bus terminals and airports went into sleep mode.

Commuter and transit buses started running again shortly after nine a.m. more or less frequently - although getting on and progress along streets was a matter of luck. Line ups for ever.

Trains started running again shortly after seven, and brought thousands of commuter workers to connecting subway stations.

Of six major subway lines, one subway line did not work at all - train personnel had not made it to work (I wonder why, maybe they were dependent on public transport). Frustrated passengers beat at the locked subway gates (police and security out in force), screamed at each other, police, subway staff, press, and tried to break down locked barriers with kicks and fists. Once train operators became available, and gates opened up, a flood of people crowded onto the waiting platforms. One could not have inserted a needle between them - absolutely crammed.

 

 

Linea D of the subway experienced a power outage shortly after the strike stopped, hence D trains stopped as well wherever they happened to be. People were evacuated from mid-tunnel - a long and hot way out. A couple of passengers suffered heat strokes. No wonder, wagons were so crowded, that the ambient temperature of somewhere around 28 degrees, felt even hotter. Sardine cans do not describe the interior of the waggons, sardines definitely enjoy more room. People were actually squished against windows and doors, some elevated above ground, all showing signs of obvious distress.

How this guy imagines to read his newspaper is beyond me. More danger of suffocating in the crowd or being trampled than being robbed by a pick pocket. Not enough space even to sneak a picking hand into any pocket.

Plug ups at every intersection where traffic lights were out. Nothing moved, except a lot of irate tongues and balled fists.

Why the strike? Transit worker unions demand a year end bonus of 4000 pesos, tax free, to alleviate the impact of 40% inflation and frozen salaries, which are not rising at the same galloping speed.

A good day to stay at home, where magically power returned at nine a.m. At least fridge and elevator are functioning.

Heading of into El Campo in a couple of days....as long as the long distance buses stay working

FIESTA DE LA TRADICION EN ARECO ...coming up

San Antonio de Areco is mopping up after devastating floods. The Fiesta de la Tradicion, which had been planned for the weekend when torrential rains caused the Areco river to rise several meters and flooded the town and surrounding estancias and fields, has been re scheduled for the last weekend in November....and I am going to be there. Hope springs eternal!
Old Oscar Pereira, one of the last of the 'old' gauchos who now lives and works at the Estancia El Ombu, will be the honoured flag bearer leading the grand gaucho procession through town. He still creates verses (coplas) telling stories of gaucho life, which he sings accompanied by his guitar. I had the pleasure of meeting him a few times in Areco, where we shared the driving bench of his horse and carriage, which he let me drive by the way. We rode in the pampas on criollo horses, and talked about 'Don Secundo Sombra', one of his famous ancestors and hero of the book of the same name and authored by Guiraldes, an Argentinian literary hero.
A special highlight for me will be watching the tropillas, small colour coordinated herds of criollo horses, which are trained to follow a 'madrina' lead mare and the sound of her unique bell. None of the horses in the tropilla team wear halters, but they keep literally 'in touch' with the lead mare, which wears a halter and is led from horseback by the gaucho who is the pround owner of his matched tropilla.
Learning to do the Zamba, and practicing my Chacarera, te be reasonably prepared to join all day/all night dancing in the streets.
Enjoy a little pre-view about the atmosphere of San Antonio de Areco, when the gauchos come to town!
 

Horses in the CIty - Dia de la Tradicion in Mataderos

One of the blocked streets making up the venue for the Feria de Matadores is reserved for gauchos and their criollo horses. Every tree along the side walks serves as a temporary 'stable' to give the horses shade and rest between their turns in the competition. So, instead of tip toeing through tulips or dog poop, one picks one's way amongst horse droppings. The most well known street horse competition is El Galpon de la Tablada. A high open gate is placed across the street (which for this purpose has been covered with a layer of sand) from which hangs a short, thin strip of leather with a small ring attached to it's lower end. The ring is about the size of a regular finger ring, but attached in a way, that it can disengage when pierced through the opening with something like a tiny dagger, or a silver shich-kebab stick...

The horses and their riders take turns to ride at full gallop towards the gate and pierce the ring with their little dagger. The ones who catch the ring win - sooner or later...

 

 

You know you are in the right street, even if the real horses would be absent, as wall graffiti illustrates the weekly event.

The Resero again on his calm Criollo horse

This one is NOT  going to compete...

A bit of a collision at the start, where two horses are showing their eagerness to get into the act. A local curiosity mounted on the horse on the left - the sole female rider in the competition. Riding is very much a male thing here. The job of a gaucho, which is still very much alive today, is a male domain.

Looking like Jorge Cafrune, one of the more famous gaucho cantors, here comes one of the competitors in full flight, dagger held like a pencil in his right hand at the ready.

Missed it!!

They just know how to sit a horse....

Awaiting his turn at the ring...

Cheers - he got a hit!

Some absolutely to drool for horse flesh - never mind the rider...

These horses are flying flat out, it takes them a couple of blocks after the gate to come to a stop...

Taking a rest between stints...

Parking on the sidewalk permitted....

Another proud winner one a beautiful steed.

Some of these Criollo horses look like tanks, so strong and compact.

Chatting with the competitors....

El Resero statue in live form...

Actually these guys and their horses are enjoying themselves. The horse just stands around attentively without being ground tied. Never mind hordes of people, dogs, traffic, noise and music...

Ah, would I ever love to take that horse home...