9 Feb 2012 - Estancia El Ombu - Dia del Campo

At least once - and maybe more often and for a longer time - one must visit an Argentinian Estancia. A ranch. Many of them offer guest accommodation with 'tout le confort' of a 5 star hotel, as well as 'dia del campo' for guests, who enjoy a day in peaceful bucolic surroundings. The estancias are, almost without exception, relics from olden times, when fabulously rich land owners built colonial style mansions, in vast expanses of the fertile Pampas, to raise cattle, grow grains and vegetables, soy and maize, and everything in between. The horse was and is an essential part in working, branding and herding cattle and managing the Estancia, apart from being the GREAT LOVE of every gaucho.
This love makes itself visible, even when visiting local museums: hammered silverware is crafted into halters, neck-laces for horses, stirrups, riding whip handles, to adorn the beloved Criollo horse, and finely worked silver belt buckles, knife sheaths and handles, hat bands and mate cups and bombillas (the silver straw to drink) to adorn the gaucho whilst he proudly works his matched team of horses, the tropilla, his wealth and his working tools.
Not much in terms of silver ware for mujeres, women, as they did not feature too much in gaucho social life, while he wandered the Pampas too much in search for work, or being conscripted into the cavallery of the government of the time.
Gauchos still work as farm hands, their skills enable them to perform just about any duty on an estancia.
So I headed out - by bus - less than two hour ride away from Buenos Aires, took accommodation in San Antonio de Areco (more about that later) and hoofed it towards Estancia El Ombu (Ombu is a type of typical huge Pampas tree) to smell the country air in 'el campo'.


300 hectares of grass lands, herds of Angus and other cattle, 60 horses of various breeds, many of them Criollos, about 20 dogs of various breeds, chickens, sheep, the odd burrowing owl, ospreys, song birds, a picture perfect 'estancia' building with a number of working 'sheds' - all in romantic tile roofed colonial style. A large veranda around the main building, cool colourful floor tiles, comfortable settees, shady Ombu trees, and oak trees, one of which must have been severeal hundred years old.
A small vegetable garden to supply the Estancia kitchen with fresh herbs and vegetables, a water-lily covered pond beside a row of poplars, two swimming pools, tastefully furnished guest rooms...pretty luxurious even for the most discriminating travellers.


Tree lined drive way leading from the dirt road (only slightly muddy from past thunderstorms) to several acres of lawn and gardens surrounding the brick and stucco main building.

The quiet pond, with its own lotus flower covered island and a tiny wooden bridge to reach it, invited to intimate reflection and meditation.

A small flock of sheep slumbered in the midday heat sheltered by a shady tree.

And horses - horses everwhere. Most of them grazed in the open Pampas beyond the buildings, many were coralled in shady paddocks awaiting their mounts for the day, or their carriage passengers.

Always alert, observing his surroundings with an intelligent eye - the Criollo horse.

The Argentinian working saddle, a combination of various layers of saddle tree, coverings and a soft comfortable sheep skin, beats any Western, Jumping or Dressage saddle for comfort. Despite being almost like an upholstered easy chair, ability to control the horse through weight and leg aids is not sacrificed.
Needless to say, that I mounted one of these Criollos for a leisurely ride through El Ombu: passing through farm gates, crossing small concrete bridges, edging around flooded areas in the pasture, hugging a fence with burrowing owls perching sleepy eyed on posts, skirting around flocks of what looks like ospreys, mingling with steers, cows and calfs, rounding herds of horses with foals...nothing upsets one's mount. He is used to everything around the Estancia, as he never ever spends a night inside a stable and is familiar and tolerant of any 'unusual' situation. A much more laid back horse - no spooking, no fighting amongst herd mates, no health issues, and prepared for any situation work or environment serves up.

Loved it - if I ever get another horse, a Criollo it will be...and it will be allowed to be 'a happy horse' amongst horses instead of a pampered people pet.

Plenty of sulkies around to explore the estancia on wheels instead of on hoofs.

The guest vehicle...still without a 'motor' which was being hitched up later...

Remembering coach driving lessons decades ago....your truly is driving the guests around with 'Nicoleta' pulling the coach in a tireless easy trot, happy in her work and totally unflappable.

Back at the Estancia building, part of the dog population is greeting some riders who are returning from a hack.

..whilst one lazy member of the Estancia dog pack is taking an early siesta under the Ombu tree.

And, we meet a living legend - literally. Mosco Pereira, an old gaucho veteran, who still works in his chosen profession at El Ombu. He is seventy years now, walks with a distinct bend in his spine, thin, gaunt, but with a lively smile and a glint in his rheumy eyes...

He is an 'old hand', so old, that he features in Argentina's classic gaucho poem and novel, Don Secunda Sombra, by Ricardo Guiraldes.

Apart from all his other estancia duties, he also accompanies guests on Estancia rides.

And here are the youngsters, slipping right into Estancia life, learning to be 'domadores', horse trainers just like old Mosco, from the moment they can stand up - or sit, as one needs to do on a horse.

Mosco might be slowly succumbing to a bent back, but he still wears his classic gaucho gear, including money belt and knife, and a weather beaten gaucho hat. He probably has been thrown by many untamed horses, but stuck to the backs for many more. He probably started his tough gaucho life, when still a little kid, and continues working, but has given up the 'doma' part - breaking in of young horses. Demasiado viejo, he said, too old.

His hands are fine, but with gnarled fingers, who have held horse reins every day of his life, and strummed guitar strings just as often. Every gaucho is a poet and singer at heart, and telling the story of their life and experiences in song is part of their long and venerable tradition.

So Mosco sang for us, some of his haunting tunes, telling of hard work, loves gained and lost, tropillas collected and lost through card games, and the circle of a fleeting life....no longer time left to find love again, he sang....

Photos and articles of Mosco, celebrating his considerable achievements and honoured status of a true gaucho and man of character...

There is a lifetime of experience and a huge heart of kindness in the expression of his eyes....

Which seems to inspire many painters to capture him on canvas...a modest, shy man, still working and probably continuing with his work until he is called to higher duty...

Lunch awaits...tables set under the leafy canopy of the great Ombu.

The Parilla man, preparing meats, poultry and sausages for the asado, the typical Estancia BBQ.

Estancia Sausage dog who has escaped being served up well done....

Everything is slowly grilling away in the 'asado'....no gas BBQ here, it has to be real wood, real grills, and hot bricks...

Pablo, gaucho, ranch hand, horse trainer, tourist guide and - table assistant. Here he serves up the first course - chorizo and blood sausage. To be followed by chicken and beef - all grilled on the huge parilla.

After lunch, Pablo demonstrates his training of his Criollo horse, which is five years old, and in training with him since 2 1/2 years. Note, there is no halter.

He rode under perfect control, with his horse relaxed and quiet.

Then he and his horse went through a number of maneuvres, which are hard to believe, that a horse would ever trust anyone enough, or be accommodating enough to execute.

Here, he has made the horse lay down on the lawn, then he slowly turned it on his back by manipulating his legs, gently - with the horse just laying back and enjoying it. No halter, no stress, just gentleness and infinitive skill.

Why not straddle him upside down? Pablo hung his Boina, the Gaucho cap, on the horses hind foot for the moment. Just with gentle stroking, the horse lets his gaucho manipulate his legs into any position without the least resistance.

We have Mounties kissing their horses (and making the funny news); here is a gaucho exchanging a 'beso' with his buddy.

The horse was so tame and accommodating, people could lay down beside him and take a snooze on his neck.

And off he goes looking one with his horse, which still obeys every aid - without a halter.

Whilst a couple of Percherons look on...

Here is Pablo's horse, with his favourite friend, decorating the lawn in front of one of the Estancia's swimming pools.

A day here flies by. Another stroll around the Estancia's veranda...

The terrace invites to another refreshment al fresco...

and then the sun begins to set on the far end of the water lily pond. Time to leave...

Soccer and Subte 'Newsflash"

Saturday, 4 Feb - a very special day for Boca Juniors. One of their most beloved stars, Martin Palermo, was playing his last game. I was on a bus to BOCA, and for blocks around the stadium tens of thousands of blue and gold clad 'hinchas' (fans) made the pilgrimage to La Bombonera (Chocolate Box), which is the name of Boca Soccer stadium. Team t-shirts, flags, hats - all proclaimed the devotion Boca Junior Portenos have for their teams and each one of their players.


Player Number 12 - my only hero!!
Have a look at the size of this flag, it reaches from field level seats to the bleachers! As a visitor, one would want to sit somewhere else, as underneath these super supportive flags are hundreds and thousands of hinchas, with hair trigger reactions, not all good, to events happening on the field.


One has to admit, Number 12 is rather an attractive looking specimen. Here he is in blue and white...
At the end of the game, what else - Fireworks! Good young Palermo had played his last game for Boca Juniors and was feted by 50,000 of his followers, who were shedding passionate tears and waving flags, and going generally nuts.
Riot police at the ready at every street corner in the barrio did not have to kick into action, though.


In the meantime.....after the increase in subway fares, and union demonstrations 'supporting' passengers by letting them ride gratis, now another looming commute disruption.
Subway employees usually get paid between the 1 and 3 day of the month. This month: no money in the bank - and it is the 6th Feb already. Subway Staff is understandably not happy - if the City accountants do not deposit wages by tonight - no subways are running tomorrow.
And - by the way - they are only crowded like this during rush hour....
Ah, and another surprise - the city centre is off limits for private cars between 10 a.m. and 4 p.m.
Good for pedestrians, buses and taxis - the regular drivers - JUST ADAPT.

3 Feb 2012 - Palermo Stroll day again...

Palermo got off easy after the 'tormenta' and flood a couple of days ago. In neigbouring barrios such as Belgrano and Palermo Viejo floods reached waist level within 15 minutes. Stores were innundated, water pressure denting aluminum doors and flood entering shops, with the result that many merchants today hold a water-sale...many of their goods on lower shelves, or rolls of material all were flooded beyond salvation....


In a Palermo side alley....just a couple of puddles are left on the shady side of the street

Some residents take 'the air' on their doorstep smoking a cigarette, while doggie friend lays near by having a snooze with his head restin on his toy...

Another alley, and another faux Picasso...

Creative ceramics in a little boutique...

C'est Chic in a designer store....

Folkloric weaving and wood carvings in an Argentinian artesan store

The young 'beautiful' people...

keeping a young Federal alert....

End of Summer Sales make designer shopping a trial - so many choices, such tempting prices, such unusual and wearable designs. Everyone runs around with giant paper bags, taking home the newly acquired treasures.

I overheard a German tourist lady, primly and 'tastefully' dressed in shades of brown
and tan, remarking: Das sind ja alles nur Fetzen wenn man sie umkehrt. (Those are only rags if turned inside out)...meckern, meckern, meckern - nag, nag, nag...

Maybe, and they may only last a season, but they do have a certain joie de vivre chic, which is sometimes missing in the top quality 'Markenartikel' of ultra conservative German 'fashion'. And I rarely see people wearing their clothes inside-out on purpose.

Meatman, in a typical 'supermercado', which are in every block of the neighbourhood. Famous Argentinian grass fed cattle, pollo (chicken), cerdo (pork) etc etc. And Argentinians eat EVERYTHING that a steer carries around on his hoofs, from the best tenderloin, to his private parts, tongue, tail, innards, blood - bon appetit.

One chooses one's selection of fruit and vegetables, then heads for the 'Vegetableman', who weighs and prices it, before one heads for the check out (which are supermarket weak points here. Never go grocery shopping when in a hurry, even fast check outs sometimes take 20 minutes to navigate)

Anybody who thinks that Argentina lacks good cheese, good cold cuts, deli items, pate....aux contraire! Mouthwatering stuff!

Dortmunder Aktien Bier - straight from the Brewery in Germany - at $3 Canadian per bottle.

And the local brew, Classic Quilmes, at about $1.50 a liter bottle - plus 75 cents deposit.

The spiritual centre of the store: the wine and liquor centre. A wine-lover could spend years tasting his way through a plethora of vinyards, grape varieties, harvest years...with prices ranging from very affordable to somewhat higher for the rarer and older wines.

A Trapiche Temporanillo goes for about $4 Can per bottle - and it is absolutely pleasant to sip with a tasty pasta...

These 'supermercados' look all but super from the outside. Never mind how small they look, or actually are, all of them offer free 'envios a casa' - home delivery - via little trucks...

Garbage containers along some of the streets. There is no official 'recycling', but conscientous citizens separate bottles and paper into separate bags, and private 'entrepreneurs' go through garbage to extract 'recyclables' to sell them to recyclers. One way to make a living - puppy is waiting, tied to a garbage container wheel, until his owner is done with the 'pre-sort'..

And if one cannot find one's favourite grape or year of wine in grocery stores, there are plenty of tasting rooms, some with bibliotheque to feed both, body and mind.

Some Boca fans exprressed their opinion on this wall...maybe anything not gold and blue (Boca Football team colours) needs to be defeated?

And the News...the Union of security officers at International Airport want a salary increase. Entry to airport blocked by striking demonstrators. Luckily only during mornings, when planes arrive, not in the afternoon, when international flights leave. Still - a mess.

Prince William is having a stint in the Falklands, in his regular uniform as an officer of the UK Forces. Local Press calls it: he arrives in the 'uniform de conquistador'? Re-ignated Argentina's interest in that little forlorn mine infested place may be fuelled by - what else - oil deposits whithin short distance of Falkland's shore??

Latest Argentinian joke about Brazilians:

Question: Why are there no Brazilians walking with canes?

Answer: They never get old enough.

With 59 young people dead around Rio de Janeiro, where thugs went wild during a police strike, maybe that is no joke.

1 Feb 2012 - Flooded Shopping....

A pleasant little outing into Buenos Aires downtown: picking up a bunch of tango shoes for a friend and one pair for myself.
Lovely. At the store all ready packed up by 6 p.m. or so after an enjoyable sunny and hot afternoon at a tango lesson and strolling along Avenida Corrientes, the Broadway equivalent of Buenos Aires.


Here is the scoop for my friend - lovely selection to swing ones 'booty'.

And here are the Millennium Dragon set - fire engine red, to go with the Year of the Dragon! Who would not feel like Cinderella in one of those?

Feeling a little smug walking towards the shoe shop, as I am the happy owner of the coveted boleto electronico, electronic transit pass, before the rush was on. The Government still has not let the cat out of the bag regarding fare increases for cash fares, so all of Buenos Aires is lining up to get an electronic pass, which allegedly will not be subject to fare increases.

For passes - Line up!
Near the Obelisco (mirrored in the glass) the official SUBE office is closed, instead subway riders line up around the corners for a block or so, to get their turn at the 'temporary' office under a little gazebo.

Almost a Canadian scene, laid back line up.....for hours, without complaint.

Until the Magic Moment arrives, and after filling in a form, showing identification, etc one walks of with the Grand Prize!!!

At Corrientes and Uruguay - a new public art piece. A stone bench with two sculptures of famous Portenos sitting at either end. The photo op for local families and tourists alike.

Those smiling grand pas at either end are artificial, tolerant creatures, allowing children to tweak their noses, pull at their neck-ties, and generally crawl all over them.

Finally - I get to the shoe store for an agreed upon pick up time for the latest little treasures. One ooh's and aahs, pays ones money, packs up and is ready to leave a short time later.

Except by that time 'el tormento' had started, one of those inimitable cataclysmic thunderstorms, which hit Buenos Aires maybe once or twice a year.

I looked out the display window, and could hardly see the other side of the street. Drainage holes looked like little fountains spouting underground water. The street slowly submerging in an ever rising lake and the heavens not holding anything back.

Although the shoe shop was closing, I sat around inside for a while, hoping for at least a lessening of the Niagara Falls outside.

Ah, I could see the other side of the street, ducked out, just to be overtaken by another burst before I even covered a block. Nothing else to do but slither, throroughly drenched, into the next 'boliche', sort of pub, restaurant, bar....whatever....with an aroma of old cooking oil and a look of decay.

But, it was dry....sort of. Ordered a small Quilmes, and got the mini size, after the mozo (waiter) mistakenly arrived with a liter bottle first.

Outside - the flood!!

Inside: the flood...it started to pour through various holes in the ceiling, some little waterfalls emerged from the light fixtures (I made sure I sat on a piece of dry ground, did not want to be electrocuted sipping a beer), the waiters shrugged their shoulders and got out a few giant squeegies to push growing water puddles towards the kitchen area....

Bit of a lost cause, as the concrete floor turned into a mirroring lake...

Another hour later, and another pause in the deluge, I skipped across water logged street into a shopping centre opposite, Abasto, which had access to the Subway.

Dry and warm (temperatures had dropped from 36 to 22 centigrade within an hour) down there. And a subway arrived within minutes to take me to the Obelisco, where one changes over to another line to continue to Plaza Italia, which is my 'home turf'.

Not a good sign, the platform of the connecting line looked like this. People sitting on the floor - waiting - people NEVER sit on floors in subway stations.

A subway employee walked through the platform with the 'welcome' news, that Subway service had stopped - too much water flooding the tunnels to make travel on electrical trains safe. Well, one escapes another potential electrocution and emerges into the grand outdoors, where it still pours. The access stairs to the Subway Stations have turned into attractive little cascades...

Of course, everyone of those hunded thousands of taxis in the city is occupied. I dogdeg around various streets and avenues, doorways, shops to try to catch one at a less popular spot than the 'Obelisco' - but...

By 10:pm I changed my taxi strategy to a bus strategy. My little Bus Guide, whose printing washes away at the first raindrop, showed that a suitable bus departed a couple of blocks away.
I did the doorway skip to the stop, where a number of people in various stages of drenchedness waited in 'close quarters' under a minimalistic bus stop cover.

Delays again, finally a bus arrives, full of course. One squeezed in (luckily my Sube pass had a couple of pesos worth left on it, and I could pay with it - I had no coins which are the only cash currency accepted...), my precious multiply wrapped shoe bags caught in the automatic door....here goes my purchase...

Surrounded by moist people, suitcases (no taxis even for tourists), guitars, whooffy damp armpits, bulging shopping bags, people texting, dripping umbrellas, and a bunch of chattering teenage girls taking up half the bus one makes one's way home.

11:15 p.m. and I arrived at Plaza Italia...one enjoys a diminished level of shower, jumps more puddles, and hogs house walls to get the benefit of overhanging balconies. Eyes open for rain sogged doggie poop, I make it into my apartment by 11:30.

Never tasted a glass of red as well as then, and all the shoes were still mysteriously dry.

It rained 50mm in 45 minutes; and between 7 p.m. and 9 p.m. - 82 mm of rainfall hit the City.

Some sidewalk cafes saw their chairs and tables floating down current, Kiosks had the 'lower levels' of display washed away, edible merchandise floated off open air foodstalls into the general soup, and garbage bags ready for pick up added a bit of seasoning to the whole soggy mess.

My little shopping pick-up, normally a 30 minute affair, took almost 6 hours - and I had left my umbrella at home for the day, which started out promising nothing but blue skies.

Indeed: Dos horas de diluvia colapsaron la Ciudad!