The Adventures of Bread

Jim and I walked by a bakery today and it brought back memories from our two weeks on the estancia. Since we were left alone for two weeks, we ate all the fresh meat we had in the first four days before it went bad (our dog loved the bone we gave her when we were done!). Bread did not make it into our collection of supplies, but we found yeast and flour in the cupboard. After about half a week I decided I wanted to try to make bread, so I mixed some powered milk with water, beat in two eggs, and then poured in flour (with a dash of salf) until the batter seemed appropiate. Then I added some yeast and beat, rolled, and kneeded the dough just like I thought a peasant should. The bread went into the oven, and since we had no way to measure the heat, I had to keep my eye on it (but I knew NOT to open the oven door because the bread would fall!) After all was done, we ate the bread and decided it was a huge success, especially since I had no way to measure anything.

I made bread again after we had moved. This next batch we cooked in a wood stove, so it took longer. The bread came out a little flat too because I didn't put in enough yeast.

The last batch was cooked in the outdoor, brick oven. We cooked pizza crusts first, and afterwards stuck in the bread. The fire had become very hot by that time, so hot that when we came to check on the bread 15 minutes later, the top was completely black. Jim put out the fire and we let the oven cool. Since the underside of the bread was still soft, we flipped the bread in the pans and stuck them back in. Over the course of the next couple days we ate the bread down to the black crust. Our dog ate the burnt part for us.

From Glaciers to Air Conditioners

The hike around the glaciers was probably the most amazing hike either Jim or I have even done. After some steep uphill parts, we arrived at a small lake the color of mysterious green with a mountain looming overhead (Fitz Roy). We sat on one side of the lake, but there was snow on the other side. Needless to say, the water was frigid since the water came from melted glacier ice. The next day we went to a huge glacier, Perito Moreno. Only 180 feet of this glacier is over the water, but that is impressive, especially when ice chunks break off the glacier and crash into the water below (and the chunks really do crash!) The glacier itself is about 18 miles long and just over the surface area of the city of Buenos Aires. On the way back to the town we had the shuttle drop us off near a lake a native had recommended to us. We walked for about two hours before a family picked us up and took us to the campground (finally! successful hitchhiking!) We found a shelter made out of thick branches near the top of a hill by the lake to spend the night. In the morning we started out once again. And once again we successfully hitchhiked to where we wanted to go! We have a 50% success rate now!

We arrived in El Calafate at 1:30. At the bus station we were told we could catch a bus a 2 that would take us to another city where we would catch a bus to Buenos Aires at 8. With half-an-hour we ran back to our hostel for our bags; Jim bought bread from a bakery for the ride on the way. While Jim made a reservation for a hostel in Buenos Aires (we got a discount if we reserved beforehand) I dragged my luggage to the nearest ATM because we did not have enough money in cash to pay for the tickets (the all powerful VISA is not as widely accepted in Patagonia). The first bank was closed, so I ran to another. That one had a line, so with no other choice I stood there trying not to keep looking at my watch. My ATM receipt reports the transaction time as 1:56; the bus pulled out of the terminal, with us on it, at 2:11.

Part of the reason we rushed for that particular bus was that we got a really good deal in the first class compartment. So instead of skinny seats to spend the next 38 hours on, we spent them in plush seats that allowed us to move from one side to the other as we slept. We had more leg room (something I do not fully appreciate) and even reclined our seats one time to do crunches. Last night we switched buses at the halfway point. Two hours into the journey on the new bus, the tire blew. We spent almost five hours at a random gas station in the middle of nowhere (remember! we were in Patagonia!) before another bus came to pick us up. It turns out the bus that came to pick us up was the same bus we had left only 7 hours before. Without more excitement we arrived in Buenos Aires this afternoon. The weather of Buenos Aires is sweltering. Instead of spending the evening in sweatshirts like we did in Patagonia, we dug out our shorts and listened to the air conditioners humming.

Hello Electricity

Seth and I are finally back from another world--the world without electricity. I don´t really know how best to start describing our time on what I think was 81 square miles, so I think I´ll just string some impulses together. It is after all after midnight and I can see in front of me without a candle--and there are no mice hear to run over my legs (easily the scariest part of the 2 weeks).

I think I´ll start and end with describing our typical day and let Seth pick up the torch with some of the juicy details. We kept a journal every day to make sure nothing important, or unimportant, was forgotten.

We rolled out of our sheepskin beds shortly before nine to make a giant pot of oatmeal. Often I would get up a little early and read while Seth barricaded himself in our room for a precious extra hour of sleep away from Sheeps the dog--who enjoyed licking any bare skin she could find. During our week at the first house on the estancia, the puesto, we had fresh cherries to stick in the oatmeal, which almost made up for the lack of peanut butter.

We´d usually work for a few hours repairing fences, making canals, picking cherries, or something else. Our tasks were varied, so we usually didn´t get too bored with the jobs. About 1 pm we´d break to make lunch, something we´d always plan at dinner the night before. After lunch we would read or write for at least an hour until 3:30, when we started work again. We always tried to do something a little bit easier in the afternoon, like making cherry dulce, so we didn´t wear ourselves out before dinner.

Making dinner was often the highlight of the day.We had no measuring cups or recipies, which led to some hilarious culinary accidents, including but not limited too 1 gallon too much of rice for stir fry (we gave it to the dog) and some very, very bad crepes (we ate them anyway, but in the dark so we couldn´t see how bad they looked). We often made several courses to stretch out the meal and dessert was often eaten around a fire or by candlelight as the sun set. It was quite bro-mantic

Now we are in the mountains about to do some hiking around the glaciers, so I need to go to bed so Seth doesn´t leave me in the dust going up the mountain tomorrow.

Life on the Estancia

Our past couple days at the estancia have been filled with not terribly exciting work, but occasionally we find something worth writing about to do. For example, this past week we helped to slaughter a sheep. That was not a regularly occurrence back in Schenectady. Skipping over the details, I will simply say the priests who slaughtered sheep in the Old Testament would have stunk after offering a lamb on the altar (we all took showers afterwards). The next day we ate some of the sheep and cut up the rest and stored it in the freezer.

One evening we had crepes for dinner (remember, the estancia owners are French). Jim and I both had the chance to cook our own crepes, complete with the turning the crepe by flipping it into the air! We had leftover batter, so the next morning we practiced our crepe flipping some more. Of course we didn’t mind eating the results of our efforts!

The weather finally stopped being unusual and started being usual. The unusual consisted of no wind and a dry heat. One day it was just over 100 degrees in the sun. Needless to say we sat in the shade until the heat subsided a bit. Now the wind is returned, likely to stay, since Patagonia is known for its wind. The windmills that generate the electricity have been spinning all day. The air is not cold, but the wind has a chilly bite to it that makes it slightly more uncomfortable than refreshing.

The owners of the ranch are about to leave for a two week vacation. Jim and I agreed to spend those two weeks at the other estancia they own, 15 miles from the one where we are currently living. The estancia we are going to does not have internet. Actually, it doesn’t even have electricity. It does have gas for the stove though. We thought we were in the middle of nowhere now, but apparently this other estancia is even more in the middle of nowhere. It was described to us like this, “You can see the cars from this estancia [they are little dots with lots of dust behind them]. At the other estancia, you can’t see the cars.” When the owners bought this remote estancia someone told them it was a prime location for a serial killer because it is in such a lonely location. Oh! And we need to watch out for the pumas too.

Con cuidado!

What Did You Do for Super Bowl Sunday?

We spent the night in the town of Gobernator Gregores, population 3500, after 6 hours by the side of the road attempting to hitchhike to the Estancia (the Argentine name for ranch).

The next morning, I walked around and found the “Templo Evangelico,” which was quite an exciting discovery since we hadn’t been to church in a while. We went back at 10 and no, there wasn’t a service, but a bible study would very soon get under way. From what I gathered, the 2 hour study was about the devil and his various schemes, accompanied by a reading and extensive commentary on what is probably every relevant New Testament verse. Two long-suffering souls in the front row read at least 30 passages, as the adults listened attentively. Needless to say, Seth and I identified a bit more with the children, who fidgeted or tugged on their parents' clothing.

The service ended with what some of our French companions here on the ranch have described as an exorcism: The teacher would pray over someone and then push them back into the waiting arms of two or three other parishioners. At first it was novel, but the strangeness of the situation soon became overpowering. Seth and I agreed that it would not be ill-mannered to leave immediately, so we did. 

**Blog post interrupted to go catch and slaughter a sheep, no joke**

After lunch we took a taxi for 30 kilometers and then walked with all our luggage on a dirt road for almost 4 hours. The wheels on Seth's suitcase were not a big help and they are no more. The third car that passed us picked us up and dropped us off at the ranch, where we will be for the next 3 weeks. 

Somewhere in Patagonia ...

We took another overnight bus south ... again. It doesn't seem to bother us anymore. Honestly, its almost like staying at a hostel, except you can't lie down to sleep. If I hadn't been woken up by water (from the air conditioning system??) dripping on my forehead, I would have comfortably slept through the night.

I started to get nervous when the sun came up and we were driving down a gravel road--a road that is supposed to be a national highway. The sage and other knee-high underbrush spread as far as the eye could see on either side and we would only pass houses every 20 or 30 minutes. I started to be very concerned that the "town" we were headed to would be a few houses and we'd be stranded and unable to find a bus for the final 300 kilometers to the sheep ranch.

It turns out I had reason to be concerned. Even though the bus route goes within 75 K of where we need to be, there is no transportation across that stretch. For better or worse, we resisted to the temptation to hitchhike from the prairie crossroad. Now we are hanging out in the town until our next night bus, which will take us to the coast and then farther south, to a city that definitely has a bus going past the ranch ...

Currently Seth is finishing Great Expectations while I write this post. We're sitting in a museum/coffee house and I'm trying mate, the Argentinian herbal coffee substitute and national obsession. It's a bit bitter, but on the whole quite tasty. The best part is the ritual that goes along with drink: fill your pot mostly full with herbs and pour in a little hot water and sugar. After you've finished, you pour in a little more water and sugar and keep drinking. The mate straws are stainless steel and have a little filter at the bottom to prevent ingestion of the herbs themselves--they also look like something straight out of Lord of the Rings, which certainly adds to their mystique.

So here we are in cowboy country ... hoping to get to our ranch ... and hoping somehow we can watch the Super Bowl. Wish us luck.

From Water in the Sky to Water on the Ground

Our bike ride ended Sunday after several hours of riding in the rain. When we stopped for hot chocolate at a swanky restaurant along the road the waiter came outside to the patio so we didn't have to go inside. My bet is he didn't want two wet, gross looking guys sitting down inside. But at least we were dry on the patio and the hot chocolate was good!

We spent one last night in Chile before catching a bus to Bariloche, Argentina. Now we are situated in a hostel located on the tenth floor of an apartment building. The reason? The windows give an unobstructed view of the lake and Andes Mountains. From our windows we can see people swimming below us and snow-capped mountains across the lake. The swimming is not for us, however, since the water is frigid. We already went swimming in frigid water in Chile for Jim's birthday. It was the first time he had gone swimming outside on his birthday. Or worn shorts, sandals, and a t-shirt. We are scoring life changing moments on this trip.

Jim sent me out today to shop for dinner while he went to buy the bus tickets. With the intention of making stir-fry, I bought pasta. But my true Italian instinct kicked in and instead of being satisfied with one pack, I bought two. Only after I had paid the bill did I realize there were only two of us to feed. Now I think I am finally beginning to understand how my mother feels when she cooks for us.