I know, I know.....what happened to Day Two? Read on...I see now that finding “alone time” to journal my thoughts is going to be a bit more difficult than I first imagined. I’m currently sitting in a small neighborhood restaurant called “Don Charras”, a steakhouse one block from my uncle Maurico’s house. I ate here yesterday after I arrived in Parana, and the fact that I’m back here the next day is testament to both the quality and value of the food. But, once again, I’m getting ahead of myself, starting at the end instead of the beginning. Let’s go back to yesterday where we left off...
My plane landed at about 12:30PM local time. Once the plane taxied to the terminal, I got off the plane. As a side note, we had to wait until the propellors stopped spinning before we could disembark. This was because we had to get our own luggage, and the luggage compartment was located uncomfortably close to the propellers. Either way, I walked towards the terminal, luggage in tow, thinking through all of the methods I would employ to get myself to the town of Parana (25km away, which is too far to walk). As the Fates would have it, my mom and her brother were in the terminal waiting for me! You see, when I was still at the AeroPark airport in Buenos Aires, I had stopped by a phone cabin and called my dad back in Miami. I let him know of my plans, so there would be at least one person who knew where on earth I was and where I was headed. As it turns out, after I got off the phone with him, he called ahead to Parana and informed the family there that I would be flying in to Santa Fe at such-and-such time, and to have someone there waiting for me. I must confess that I felt a little bit deflated at their sight. Not because of them, per se, but because of the adventure I wouldn’t have now that I had someone to take me to Parana safe and sound. But thankfully, I got over that feeling pretty quickly. I was very happy to see my mom and uncle. Right then and there, it felt like home.
Driving to Parana felt a little bit like playing Grand Theft Auto on my XBOX. I’ll skip the details and just say that we would’ve had three stars after finally getting to Parana. Sergio (my mom’s brother) dropped my mom and I off at my uncle Mauricio’s house, where I’d be crashing the for at least the next two days. I lugged my bags upstairs and, before I could even take a breath, was whisked out the door to have lunch at Don Charros steakhouse (where I am right now, but not where I am right now in the narrative. Capiche?).
We had a delightful time at Don Charros. Great food, good company, and conversation full of insight, candor, and forthrightness. After a couple of hours, we left the restaurant to go back home. I needed a shower, a change of clothes, and some rest. Of course, I only got two out of those three (guess which two). Once again, I got yanked out of the house (now that I was all cleaned up), and taken across the street to my grandparent’s apartment. I was so happy to see them; they are one of the main reasons I took this trip. We stayed a while chatting, but I could feel myself slipping into unconsciousness with each passing minute; after a half hour with them, I could no longer form complete sentences in spanish. I excused myself, apologized for my early departure, and went home to rest.
At this point, it was about 7:30PM. I unpacked my things and put them away as best as I could, then sank into bed. I stared at the ceiling for a couple of minutes, trying to clear my thoughts before I sank into sleep; if I don’t, I tend to have uncomfortable dreams, so I always take a moment to clear my head. I realized that I had forgotten to brush my teeth, so I lumbered to the bathroom and went through the routine. I got back into bed, saw that it was almost 8PM, then closed my eyes and floated away.
I awoke the next day at 11:30AM. The house was quiet. I sat up, scratched my head, and walked to the shower. Thank goodness I was wearing clothes, as I scared the mouse-quiet housekeeper to death. In retrospect, it was pretty funny, but at the time I felt awful for sneaking up on the poor woman. After she realized I wasn’t a stranger there to assault her, she calmed down and commented on how much I looked like my dad. Hmm.
A word about the shower. Hot water works very differently in Parana than it does in other parts of the world that I’ve visited. For starters, the amount of hot water is limited; that is, each house has a set amount of hot water they get every day and when it runs out, that’s it. You’re out of hot water. This causes everyone to ration out their own hot water, to have to make decisions such as “Does everyone in the house shower today, or do I do laundry?”. I’m not joking. As it relates to the shower, one has to bathe themselves Navy-style:
- Turn on the water and wait for it to get hot.
- Get yourself wet and turn off the water.
- Lather up and shampoo your hair.
- Turn on the water, wait for to get hot, then rinse your body completely.
- Pray that the hot water doesn’t run out before you finish rinsing off.
The hot shower that I took today was one of the more stressful showers I’ve experienced. Imagine this Sword of Damacles hanging over you the whole time, except that instead of death, you’ll have cold water inflicted on you in the Argentine winter (well, I guess that’s the same as death). I was able to lather up and shampoo just fine, but as I was rinsing off, I could feel the water go from hot, to warm, to lukewarm, and finally to cool. Jumping jesus on a pogo stick! A shower is supposed to be relaxing! (God, I sound like such a spoiled Westerner...)
By the time I had gotten out of the bath, my mom had come home from her walk, and told me to get ready for lunch at the grandparent’s house. A couple of minutes later, we’re out the door and crossing the street to the front door of their apartment building. It’s a beautiful building, very modern with all of the things one expects in a 2 year old high-rise (except hot water). We had the key to the front door, so we let ourselves in and jumped into the elevator for the slowest trip to the fifth floor of a building ever recorded. I swear, this elevator must have been powers by hamsters: starving, elderly, handicapped, retarded hamsters. I could have scaled the outside walls like Spiderman quicker than this elevator took to get us to the fifth floor.
When we walked into the apartment, it was joy all around. The table was set simply, but to me it was a joy to behold. I’ve learned to take the time to enjoy the little things, like the precious creativity that my grandmother summoned to set the lunch table in such a homey fashion. Grandma made a chicken with small potatoes, empanadas, and a salad. Grandpa brought out the red wine, which he swears is the key to his longevity; we drank several glasses to his health. I took a ton of pictures, and had more wonderful conversation. After a little while, the grandparents got tired and declared it was time for their nap. Taking the hint, my mom and I helped clean up and gathered our coats. A kiss and hug later, we were out the door.
We decided to take a walk to meet with some cousins. After we met, we took a walk to the center of town to buy an adapter for my Mac, so I could charge my MacBook’s battery. Then, we strolled through a park where we saw a group of about 20 people dressed in traditional Argentine Gaucho garb to a little ceremony in commemoration of the death of San Martin, a national hero from the independence days. The ceremony was really fun to watch, as they gaucho people recited poetry praising San Martin, then did a little dance number to traditional “chamame” music. That made my day.
Walking back to the house, I told my mom that I wanted to go for a drive through the countryside outside of town. She said, “that sounds like fun, if you want to see miles and miles of nothing”. I told her I had my reasons, and that she could stay home if she didn’t want to come. Nonplussed, she said she’d love to accompany me. We jumped into a Mitsubishi hatchback that was parked in Mauricio’s garage, and hit the streets. A few minutes later, we’d crossed the city limits. Instead of a narrative, I’ll relay what I saw in the form of bulleted observations:
- The countryside is poor in every way that doesn’t count. Sure, they may not have paved roads, centralized sewage and sanitation, reliable electricity, or any of the other civic developments that we take for granted back in the States. But they do have some things that we’ll never have: a true sense of neighborhood and unity, sincere thanks for the little they do have, and a strong current of family loyalty that is just plain lacking in our more “civilized” society.
- Everyone is Catholic. Everyone. No Jews, Bhuddists, Muslims, Scientologists, Baptists, or Pastafarians. But, it’s amazing how no one shows off the fact that they are religious like they do in the States. Everyone’s faith is their own.
- The concept of “organic food” doesn’t exist here; everything is organic. No BGH, no toxic fertilizers, none of that.
- I was really left to admire just how unspoiled everything was. Talking to the guy at the fruit stand we stopped at, he told us that there are still large amounts of land with no owner, just waiting to be claimed. He said that people here were so poor that they wouldn’t be able to do anything with the land even if they claimed it, so no one bothers. Couple this with the fact that there is no infrastructure in the countryside, and you have “unclaimable land”. Just think about that for a second.
- Since I’ve known him, my father has not stopped singing the praises of the Argentine countryside. His music listening habits lay exclusively with “argentine country music”, who’s topics are as diverse as How Beautiful The Countryside Is, All Of The Animals Of The Countryside, How Great It Is To Fish In The Rivers Of The Countryside, etc. Having heard these songs all of my life, then finally getting to see it all for myself, I can say that I understand the old man a little better.
People don’t leave this town, and even when they do, they always come back. I think that’s called “Home”.
