Patagonian Musings, Part Dos

Well, I'm back with you sooner than expected--just left the land of perpetually fuzzing radios and goat t-bones to head to the greener pastures of Chile. But before we get to Chile, let's do a little catching up shall we?
At last the communication, we had just spent the first week at the Buta Ranch assisting in a little fence work and celebrating the Jerra with the gauchos. Then we headed to the ranch in Colipilli to do some deck/gazebo building. So here's how that went:

We arrived at the Collipilli estancia to to some good news and some bad news. Part of the good news was that we had our own room, albeit it was 10x8 stone dungeon (for Kansas Citians it reminded me of the Fort Osage living quarters & for non KC readers-I've seen solitary confinement cells more inviting), but hey, it was OURS and we were excited. The kitchen was lacking many essentials--you think "what, no fresh parmesean" and I mean like 2 drinking cups for 6 people and cookware that still had the remnants of the last 5 dinners in it. Hell, my old dog Wilson ate out of better things. But, we had grown accustomed to a scarcity of supplies and dismal standards, so this new setup was no biggie. We dealt with it, which brings up the first topic of conversation:

Improvisation.
To make ammends with the absence of essentials we were reduced to Inspector Gadget-like tehchniques. Trying to satisfy cravings for caffeination, we constructed a coffee filter out of wire and a first aid bandage. It worked well for those you who are curious and craving.
An antenna needed to be placed on a tree pole about 10 ft above a shabby roof (about 25 ft total). No real ladder around to do it?--Let's ask the two gringos to do it, they've obviously have some screws loose from leaving their formerly promising lives (that comment could be debated) to come here. And so, trying to fight the stereotype of the useless gringo, Petro and I improvised a ladder by implementing a human totem pole on the roof to set that antenna. Fortunately, we lived to regret that job. (pics on Petros cam of the stunt)
At a plateau in your improving relationships around the ranch due to the language barrier? Solution--Maintain a supply of beverages used for toasting--everyone loves the guys who always have drinks to make you happy, even if they look slightly ridiculous and toast in a horrendus dialect of spanglish. Whisky does translate well.


Relativity.
Upon our arrival at the ranch there was no dish soap to be found. At the time, washing dishes with soap was still a necessary variable in my definition of clean. That soon regressed to only the use of hot water, followed by just the use of room temperture water, and by the end of the experience, if someone spit on a plate and rubbed off any specks of food I might not have even thought twice about it. OK, maybe twice, but I still would have eaten out of it. I learned that man can be conditioned (at least temporarily) to just about anything. Standards of cleanliness are relative to the situation, especially if you live amongst people who eat next to goat carcasses hanging from the ceiling. "Can you pass the cup when you three are done with it?"

Work.
Wow, are things built a little differently down here. Power tools? I hope you mean "power" in the sense that I was happy I got a few sessions in on the arm bicycle at the YMCA prior to this trip so I could go a full 2 minutes before passing out using the handsaws and drills that they use here. Straight wood is an urban legend (or rural?) and the "support" beams for the deck and gazebo are basically crooked trees. The hardest part about the deck project was that the whole time you are spending sawing one 2x6 for 10 minutes or hand driving in 6 inch nails, was the fact that you are aware of how quickly things could be going with the tools that are used to in the States. Nothing is thought of in terms of building codes, more like "will this structure possibly last 5 years and will it stand a 50% chance of non-collapse should it be filled to capacity." If the answers to those questions are yes, then proceed. Overall, a few ingenious "back to basics" techniques in building were learned and the experience will be remembered fondly (slightly). And so, when I get back to the States, if you have ball of yarn, a pile of rocks, some dead trees, and three packs of gum, I can probably build you a deck. Throw in a case of Busch Heavy and you got yourself a gazebo too.

Gauchos.
I explained them briefly in the Part One post and provided a link for further study (i sure hope you did your homework). At Colipilli, we also lived with a couple gauchos but only one is worth mentioning to you. Hugo, aka The Big Cheese. He was with us back at the other ranch and he was the one who threw the Jerra party that we so enjoyed. Revered by all the other gauchos and community members because of his work ethic and know-how, Hugo was somewhat intimidating to be around. He was like the Don Corleone of the area, although slightly more law abiding. Example: One of the nights we were sitting around the "kitchen" eating a meal of roasted goat (what else!) when two uniformed police officers entered our meager dwelling. I immediately began racking my brain for possible breaches of law that I may have committed (un)knowingly that would have these cops in the middle of nowhere. But of course, these two cops (one was the top cop of the area) had come at the invitation of Hugo. He dutifully offered them wine, which they replied "just a little" (which, I believe is the by-the-book response for on-duty Argentine cops because the glasses were filled to the top.
Having heard that Hugo had no time for lazy individuals and little time for the hardworking but useless, we made some conscientious efforts not to fall into either of those catergories. He was our building foreman for the deck project and by the end of the week, for reasons we are still unsure, he invited us to visit the vast area of land that he owns 3 hours away from Colipilli. Very skeptically we agreed to go, hoping to see some different countryside, but suspicous that we may be put to work there as we still could not grasp that we could have fallen into his favor. And so on Saturday we set off, to one of the most uninhabited places I've ever been to. On the drive to his ranch, we spotted some wild ostriches and llamas, which I had no idea even existed in this part of the world. After our arrival at his ranch, which had been recently decimated by a fire and a flood within the past two years (talk about some poor luck), we set off on a ostriche and llama hunt that proved unsuccessful. So did the one the next morning, but that may be due to a ill-timed sneeze by yours truly during an especially important time to be quiet. Petro gave me a most disapproving glance and Hugo just shook his head like he always did after one of the 25 gringo mistakes we made during the week prior. And so, there was no thrill of a kill of something exotic, but the ranch experience was something else. Inspiring scenery and tranquility along with an errie remoteness that was constantly on my brain. At one point, during a lengthly alcohol induced mid-day siesta by Hugo, having comtemplated what sort of major problem we would be in if Hugo would, say expire (he is a hardliving 50/60something) while we were out there, we got a little nervous. And so, we did some hourly breathing verifications during his siesta to ensure our safe passage out of that place. Which happened obviously.

Cam.
Midweek, a new ranch volunteer arrived, straight from his flight from the States. He hadn't even seen the sights of B.A. before he transported himself to the ranch. His name was Cam and he was 18 years old and fresh out of high school. We pitied the kid. Hedged bets on his survival at the ranch and even offered him some of our preciously guarded whisky reserve to lessen the news we were about to give him about what he had just walked into. The goat meat, the accomodations, the remoteness, the crying. Deer in headlights is the best way to put his initial reaction. Uneasy about the prospect of causing a potential runaway, we backed off slightly and talked of the good times and experiences as well. All in all, he turned out to be a pretty cool kid and seemed to be hacking it well, although he did not seem to take the news of our spontaneous departure well.
Departure.
Woke up Monday morning not feeling particularly well in the GI department (too many possible causes to even consider). Also, things in the new experience department were running low, combined with the fact that the ranch owner had fallen way short on his promise to get us some major horse activity led to the decision to pull the plug on the ranch. And so we broke the news to Hugo (who took it hard--again we wonder what he ever saw in us) and packed our bags, stood on the side of the road and hoped that one of the rare occurence cars would pass AND pick us up (Cam had tried to hitch the day before unsucessfully and had to walk 15 miles back to the Ranch). After a one and half hour wait on the road outside the ranch a truck finally passed and and Petro came through with his best "please drive us or we'll die on the side of the highway" plea, and we were off like a prom dress. As it stands, we are currently killing time in the town of Zapala, AR before our 2am bus to Junin de Los Angeles for a day stay before heading accross the border into Chile. First Chilean stop is the city of Valdivia.

Overall, the ranch experience was pretty remarkable and it is kind of amazing to think was what was seen and done in the two weeks. Hopefully, the pics will assist in painting a better picture of our time these past weeks.

As of right now I am going to start uploading some pic and videos of the ranch experience. They will appear on the blog but most of the pics can be seen on the pics link.

I'd also like to send out a tremendous shout-out to the queen of cool, Grammy Keyes, who turns 84 tomorrow. As your favorite grandchild, I would like to be the first to say Happy Birthday!

Back in regular contact,
BQ