Getting caught in the rain with cowboys

Big adventure today with a day trip to an Argentinian estancia, or ranch at San Antonio de Areco, a town 112km north of the city. Our guide Laura was simply delightful from the start, telling jokes and slipping seamlessly from Spanish to English in her fantastic commentary (albeit a little close to the microphone). As we headed out of the city, the apartment buildings turned into the flat plains of the Pampas, true gaucho country. The estancia was called Cin Cin, because of the native trees in the hood. On arrival we were met with a man dressed in traditional gaucho garb; puffy pants, long leather boots, a red scarf around his neck and a thick belt covered in coins. He offered us homemade meat empanadas and salami which we all tucked into, including me, despite my so-called vegetarianism. The day was steamy so after a few refreshments, we had some tiempo libre (free time) to ride a horse or join a group on a carriage at the nearby gaucho yards and stables.

The storm clouds were slowly surrounding us as we headed back for lunch, the typical Argentinian asado barbecue. Places were laid for us at a long table in the dining room, and an Argentinian played beautiful piano for us as we tucked into the salads and uncorked bottles of local vino tinto. My bid to be discreet with my vegetarianism seemed to be working for a while. I said si to two of the plates of roast meat that came around by the minute; sausage, black pudding, steaks,finally succulent roast chicken. But after a bloody cut landed on my plate, slightly curdling my stomach, I had to admit my preferences to the New Yorker sitting across from me. He laughed and said he was 90% vego also. But he was heartily enjoying the carne.

After lunch was a show of folkloric dances. The sky outside was black, and the humidity soared. When we made our way to the stables for the gaucho displays and games it started to spit. The gauchos lit cigarettes and coolly aboarded their steeds as the winds increased their fury. We stood shivering under a corrugated iron roof as the cowboys thundered by on horseback, in a bid to collect a tiny ring with a small pen-like object. We laughed and applauded and then the storm reached its peak and we ran for the cover of the stables. The rain was coming down heavily and broken branches which had come loose circled around the shelter. The horses stoically stood with their backs to the wind. The gauchos laughed and talked quickly to each other, trying to find something to burn to light a fire and keep people warm. All were saturated. It was quite a sight; about ten tourists, most non-Spanish speaking, drenched, over and under-dressed, sheltering in a small stable with Argentinian gauchos.

Finally the rain lightened enough to make a run for the house where there was some hot mate waiting for us and some pan dulce.