Monday, April 22, 2013

A little more of the sweet life- Buenos Aires and Cordoba

Probably the happiest I have been for a really long time- Argentina is beautiful and wonderful, the people merry and very kind. A lot of banter to be had about the Malvinas- from hearing about it from the side of the Argentines, it is not as black and white as the British believe. Over supper one night in Puesto Viejo, I met a half American, half British Polo player called Mike. When he was at University in the States, he came back to B.A to visit family. The Army came and knocked on the door of his smart B.A mansion for conscription one day and the maid lied to them, saying Mike was back in Florida. He in fact hid in a rose bush for 5 hrs- Germany 1938 springs to mind. In fact, I do not want another conversation about it- the fact we went to war against these great people, who were so poorly equipped they borrowed jumpers from the islanders, for the lives of 1500 people is so ridiculous it makes me laugh. However, every time I pass blue signs on the Autopista that say ´Malvinas Son Argentinas´, I get a tiny little buzz.

I had made a lot of friends at Puesto Viejo despite the occassional frustration and language barrier. Why is it the tacking up a pony in Argentina is much more difficult than at home? The strings that the Argentines use for the girth or ´sincha´ I think are pretty complicated and the amount of times I rode off into the distance with a saddle looser than Lindsay Lohan on a Saturday night are countless. Poor Jorge lost his temper with me- ´punta madre!´ I shot back ´stupid dickhead´- all I got was Ýes´ with Jorge beaming at me. Sometimes a language barrier is a good thing.

Another thing I have noticed in Argentina is that most men do not believe in the concept of friendship between man and woman. Unwittingly, I said I had an ámigo´ in the city to the guys at Puesto Viejo who collasped into laughter. Its true I have an amigo and like the vast majority of my guy friends in the UK, he is a friend without the weird quote things you do with your fingers. Argentina it seems has a long way to go in that  sense- I have a boy in the city- yes. Is he a friend? Yes. Have we had sex? No. Will we? No. I was shown a  picture one day of one of the groom´s amigas, a pornographic shot with her bum on display. ´Beautiful, isn´t she?´ he said proudly. Beautiful is not what sprung to mind.

My internship in Canuelas finished on thursday and I travelled the 11 hrs to Northern Argentina, back to altitude. It was sad to say goodbye to B.A, a city I have grown really fond of, even though I am returning in a month anyway. Sadder still saying goodbye to everyone at Puesto Viejo and after a surprise leaving asado (Argentina BBQ) I hit the road. All through the journey, I contenplated what life was waiting for me in Cordoba. I had been warned it was more ´rustic, a river instead of a swimming pool, and less of a club, more of a training ground for young horses. After South Africa two years ago, I found that this is really the line of Equestrain work I want to fall into.

On being picked up from Villa Del Totoral by Ale Nouvilla, a beautiful Argentine woman and the wife of Carlos, my new family for the duration of May, I started to relax. So far, my days here have consisted on pinics by the river, a long polo tournament with a world famous tennis player playing, parties with the classic Cordoba drink Fernet. Like Asados and Mate, why we do not have Fernet in the UK facinates me.

 I have just got back from stick and balling with Delfie, the younger daughter of the family who when two days she saw me in a bikini clapped her hand over her eyes and said ´man, you are so white!´. Weird, I thought, considering I have never been so brown...

Tuesday, April 2, 2013

More of Puesto Viejo

I have decided to break my unwritten rule (excuse the pun) of not blogging the same place twice. This is due to the phenomenal amount of rainfall that has happened over the last fifteen hours and the boredom that that brings regardless of whether you are in the UK or Argentina.

 There is no polo today and its been rumoured it will take till Friday to allow the ground to dry properly. This means I will not ride- half the staff are thinking of taking off to Buenos Aires, as there is nothing to do. If the polo industry worked this way in England, you would probably be able to get two matches in per year- as it is, to prevent the ground being churned up and ponies breaking legs, the ground must be more solid and the pitches less of a lake. I am playing with the idea of heading back to Buenos Aires but I have heard all the interchanges are shut and cars are floating...

I have been given back my original lavish hotel room, a room which is blissfully frog, spider and beetle free, which is more than can be said for the broom cupboard I have spent the last week in. I have showered really infrequently due to the marine wildlife that decides to swim too close to my toes, that ahs sent me squeeling and running in to the pampas. In fact I ended up enlisting help for getting rid of a teenage  frog (a middle sized, confused one) and unfortunately ending up killing it, pushing it out with a broom. Sincé then, the whole frog population of Argentina has staged a siege.

So far, my days have been fairly unstructured which has been both great because it means I can ride, or swim or chill when I like but also a little unsettling. It seems its very much the Argentine way of life to work when you need to. I always spend the day at the stables and end up sending 60 percent of it making conversation (limited but getting there) and drinking Mate. This is a bitter lemon drink...I have not taken to it and pretend to like it but really...I wish I could be cool and sociable and Argentine like all the grooms. I do not even go near tea and I am a Brit.

I had a funny time taking out the owner of the club daughters out for a ride, one being six as of today and the other ten. They are half Argentine, half British, bilingual, incredibly confident and pretty much born on horseback. One the youngest going too fast and disappearing into the pampas, the eldest turns around and says "Izzy, you know if anything happens, everyone will hold you responsable"....