Monday, December 28, 2009

One person´s weed is another person´s lechuga minera!

The Hudson Institute´s school year ended a little over a week ago and I said an almost-tearful goodbye to my students. Funny how attached you get after nine months of twice-a-week hour-and-a-half lessons. As much as I hope to have taught them, they have taught me an inexplicable amount. About patience, planning, learning, teaching, classroom management, fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants games, motivation, and Spanish :)

But now, with so much free time on my hands, I turn my attention to summer activities. Summer in December. I´m still getting used to the idea.

But how can I not with these bluest of blue skies and all-encompassing sun? So I´ve turned my eyes toward my three c´s: cultivating, cooking, and consumption.

My minigarden is picking up momentum. My hot chili plant, Ludro, has turned out 5 huge mouth-scalding specimens. My tomato plant is showing a lot of progress as new leaves appear on the three stems everyday. My basil is sturdy and showing remarkable growth. My spinach is kind of a mess of leaves going every direction, so I´m letting natural selection take its course and knock off a few of the plants, so that the few that will remain with be the best adapted for this forever changeable Patagonian weather.




It is impossible for me to explain the joy I get from gardening. The peace that a plant gives off as it slips into bloom leaves me speechless and I can spend several hours tending carefully to each of my few plants. It´s the same sensation I get walking through the mountains here. Life breathing on every side of me in the form of colorful retamas, bulbous llao llaos, ever-present coihues, lush lupinos, those funny little gummy fungi that grow on fallen tree trunks next to the gurgling see-straight-to-the-bottom river and countless other species of countless other plants and animals. It´s a peace that I have learned to listen to and thoroughly enjoy here in Bariloche.

While peace came to me from the great outdoors, my joy comes from the kitchen. There are few things that give me the happiness that cooking does.

I show up to Sarah´s house after my daily bike ride to Villa de los Coihues with a plastic bag of veggies I found in my fridge. After a quick inventory of her kitchen, I announce the options based on my findings. Soup? Rice with lentils and a salad? Noodles with sautéed veggies? And after coming to a consensus, I get straight to work chopping or boiling. Many people would be peeved at such a complete invasion of cooking space, but Sarah claims not to mind and many of our culinary endeavors are joint projects. It´s not everyday you find someone who is also willing to spend so much time into the preparation of food. And not just any food, but slow food. I have no problem spending many hours waiting for the food to come out perfect. Small price to pay for palate satisfaction in my opinion. Whether it´s waiting for bread to rise, soup to boil, meticulously washing off each spinach or lechuga minera leaf, or cookies in the oven to reach the golden brown, the mouth-watering results always make it well worth it. Perhaps I have an obsession with food as best explained by a recent conversation with a friend:
“I love to watch you eat, Alisa”
“Why´s that?”
“Because you look so happy. You are really enjoying it.”

And I do. I love eating. And when a perfect meal comes from hours of enjoyable hard work, it´s bliss to taste all of its flavors working together to create a symphony of taste.

Speaking of slow food, on seemingly every other day I am invited to another asado.

For someone who has never been to Argentina, it is hard to grasp the concept of an asado. Think meat. Lots of meat. Think 6 hours of meat.

The asado is one of the defining activities of Argentinean culture and I hope my description does it some justice. One family or person invites a group of friends and family over to their house usually around 8 or 9pm. No one shows up until close to 10pm. Depending on the asado, guests bring a cut of meat and a bottle of red wine or the host may choose to provide all the meat and then ask for everyone to hacer una vaquita (make a monetary offering). Soon after the guests start arriving, the fire is started either in a parrilla (grill) or a fire pit. Guests will begin on the drinks until the coals are reduced to bright red shimmery embers, which usually takes a few more hours. The meat is salted and added to the grill, the embers are carefully arranged under the grill in a circular fashion ensuring that the meat is cooked painfully slowly. A few more hours and bottles go by, conversation is unleashed. The asador (one the in charge of the parrilla) rotates the embers and tests the meat. Chorizos (sausages) and morcillas (blood sausages) are almost always the first to emerge onto the cutting board. These cutting boards are passed around with bread and everything is eaten with fingers. Then the other cuts start coming off the grill: matambre, vacio, nalga, colita de cuadril… and are passed around. At some point someone announces an applause for the asador and applause erupts from everyone present. This 6 hour feast dwindles down like the fire in the wee hours of the morning and people start to disperse.

Asado is about community. It´s about relaxing, socializing, and sharing. It´s about waiting, savoring, and laughing. It has tradition and a warmth that radiates. It makes smiles linger. Most of my clothing has that smoky meat smell which fills my head with memories and brings me back to the star-filled sky and the crackling of the branches succumbing to the hungry flames.

I´m sad to be leaving Bariloche. One year can really change a person. I am forever in dept to the people and culture that I have encountered here. I truly live in one of the most beautiful inhabitable places on Earth. I am very tempted to stay another year, but life is about exploring and learning and growing. And there are many more adventures.

Saturday, December 12, 2009

changes


this week nate left for cochamo. it was a tough week.

marcus, cerin, ash, ros, nate and i made record time last friday reaching puerto varas in a mere 5 hours. smooth talking at the border and good driving skills (not mine, of couse) made all the difference. el caminante is a new hostel in town and it has my vote for one of the best-onda hostels around. nate and i dined at 'donde el gordito,' a cozy seafood restaurant for our last night together.

the next morning we moved nate into his hilltop hotel and said goodbye.

so nate and i have certain obsessive hobbies. his is climbing and mine is traveling. we realized that we have been making some compromises, neither one of us truly fulfilling our own goals. so we have made a tough decision. nate will travel to the cochamo valley for 3 months of climbing, hiking, and opening new routes in the beautiful and relatively unexplored terrain. i will finish up my school year in bariloche and then starting january begin traveling again. my goal is to adventure through deep-south patagonia and then north through the amazon rainforest of brazil ending up in colombia. passing through uruguay, paraguay, guyana, suriname, and venezuela on the way. i want to learn portuguese and immerse myself in culture!

but we will take all this adventure with a spoonful of salt. we will be apart for a long unspecified amount of time. and that's tough.

so we said our dreaded tearful goodbye. i got into the car and reluctantly returned to bariloche. i would be understating it to say i was an absolute mess.

back in bariloche, my friends were so unbelieveably helpful and supportive. i still miss nate tremendously, but i'm sure that what we're doing is the right thing for us both. i wish him the best of luck in his endeavors and i hope he continues to spread his positivity, limitless energy, love, encouragement, generosity, and humor to inspire others to follow their dream. you're one in infinity, nate. i love you.


meanwhile, the weather in bariloche could not have been better. bluest of blue blue skies were bordered by snow capped mountains. the sun was fierce, but the wind off the lake made all the difference. i spent time on the beach. even braved the lake's icy temperatures. held my classes outside in the grass. enjoyed ice cream to the fullest! summer is upon bariloche again!

Thursday, December 3, 2009

El Cajon Del Azul

There is a refugio nestled in the rolling hills just a 3 hour hike from El Bolson, Argentina. This moderately-sized lodge and tourist hub is run by Atilio, a Buenos Aires-born trilingual no-nonsense kind of guy. It was upon this modest refugio that 5 weary hikers descended one Saturday evening.

It started with a 1pm departure from Bariloche in the olla, a painted motorhome owned by a couple of friends. Kris, Maxi, Caro, Jeru and Ali (that’s me) took off and slowly made our way south on Route 40. I slept the entire way.



Stowing the motor home at el polaco’s, we shouldered our packs and set off. With my tent, sleeping bag, sleeping pad, a few clothes, and food I had by far the largest backpack. But stubbornly declined help carrying my stuff. If I wanted to bring that stuff, it was my responsibility to cart it over the river and through the woods. Or no?

Down up down up over a river or two, stop click photo, down down up up. Past the burnt house, Kris, Maxi and Jeru stopped for a banana while Caro and I carried on. The water was a spectacular color of turquoise as we looked down into the knee-shaking crevasses. I don’t think the photos do it justice.












As we reached the outer gate, a handful of hares darted across a pasture. The horse brayed us a welcome and we approached the house. Almost immediately I noticed the garden and green house! Garden and green house! Horray!

Atilio came outside to greet us and offered us the customary welcome mate. We received it warmly. I took a look around at the spacious common area. Wood mostly. With sheep skin seat covers. When I asked about a compost, he showed me two buckets, one for compost and one for chicken food, and explained the difference. Chickens sheep horses compost garden green house?! Sigh. I had found paradise.

Our friends had shown up and I went outside to pitch my tent. A small stream ran parallel to the camping area. A large shed showed evidence of woodwork and animal skins. I took a chance and asked if I could take a twirl around the garden. He gave me a personal tour. Rhubarb (from which he broke off a piece for me to gnaw on), several types of lettuce, tomato, squash, and countless other veggies. I knew this was a man whose brain I just had to pick.

I waited for the right moment though. After all there was a large sign in the main room with the words “ANTES DE PREGUNTAR, PIENSE!” (BEFORE YOU ASK, THINK!) so I knew I had to chose my words carefully.

I got my chance over dinner, we invited him to sit with us and dived into a conversation. What a life he’s had! And with the last 29 years working at the refugio! He speaks with quiet authority on many topics. I found him rather inspirational.

That night instead of sleeping in my tent, we slept around the campfire under a blanket of jaw-dropping stars. I think I stared into the fire for a few hours, not uttering a single word, just soaking in the energy of the hissing wood and the peace of life around me.

We got lost on a day-hike the next day. I could have explored caves forever, but even the summer days come to a close and we had many kilometers to cover. After some of the most delicious bread ever, we said our farewells to Atilio and settled the bill. Off we went, quicklier than the previous day. I felt strong and healthy.

Towards the end of the hike, I started distancing myself from the group. I knew that the worst of the hike was yet to come, so I forged ahead dominating the subida and arriving back at el polaco’s with time to rest before the others got there.

I bought the first beer. We sat on the grass eating soggy snacks and airing out our feet. Two more beers later, we were back on the road.

Besides having the get out and push the motor home up a hill and picking up a hitchhiker, the journey was uneventful and I fell asleep until we were rushing past los cohiues. As I said goodbyes to my friends and walked home, I smiled at everything I had seen, learned, and experienced. Life is magical.