Get back in the Saddle

Some people will tell you that when you fall off a horse, you need to get back on. Most use it as a metaphoric rally for encouragment, a way to say "no matter what, never give up". Well I am pretty sure most of the people who say this have never ACTUALLY fallen off a horse, because if they have, they would know that it's not that easy to get back on, especially if the horse is bleeding, missing a horseshoe and kind of pissed off. A Thanksgiving day horseback riding adventure through a small town just outside Cordoba, was an amazing experience. We began by drinking the traditional Argentinian drink, Mate, which according to history was created by the Gaucho (an Argentinian Cowboy) who, having very little money, picked the leaves and shared this new drink, and long conversations, with the travellers he'd meet on the "road". Then after some cheeky conversations with our guide, Marcello, he said "I know which horse I am going to give you", with a laugh (although I'd like to think the crash was just coincidence.) All my years of owning our childhood horse, April Fools my Pepsi Pony, and taking riding lessons came flooding back to me; it was a breeze (and besides these horses are trained to just follow one another anyway, lets be honest here.) We went through the barren hills, waving to homes as we passed, through the rocky terrain and even forged through the river twice. On a fairly routine climb up a rock path, my horse went to follow Marcello's, but instead put its foot directly into a rock crevice, got stuck, went to put its other leg up, and began to lose its balance. At this point as the horse begins to roll to the left, I did what Mick (who was behind me) called "a ninja roll" off the front - abonding ship before my little pony took a pretty nasty spill down the rocks. After watching in what I could only describe later as a big tree, falling hard, and of course realizing that I was unscratched, I cried out "oh no, the poor horse. In the end, she has a lot of bleeding on her legs, and over her eye, but I got back on the horse (because I knew they wouldn't have created that saying for nothing), and finished my amazing journey. When we got back, instead of turkey we had a gluttonous Argentinian BBQ, where I ate so much steak and bread from the grill, that I felt at one with my fellow stuffed American people.



After Port Iguazu, and a 20 hour bus ride, where I had more bad luck of a shockingly soaked bag, which stunk for almost a week after arrival, we got into Cordoba. Our first day we thought it was a ghost town, but turns out it was just a national holiday.On our second day we took a 1/2 hour bus ride to Alta Gracia, the hometown of the well-known freedom fighter Che Gueverra. By the time we got off the bus, it was around lunchtime, and we couldn't believe the ghost town we found, again! Through my broken spanish I figured out that Siestas (afternoon rests) are not a myth; this entire town shuts down from 1-4.Apparently it is quite common all over South America, so now there is actually an excuse for my overhwhelming find food NOW sense of urgency, so we get something to eat before everyone retreats to their homes. Another thing that is funny about South America is that it is filled with what I call "classics" - really old cars, some I remember from back in the 80's and some that I have never seen, but it does make for a great game of punchbuggy. While in Alta Gracia we also visited a beautiful old Jesuit building that had been turned into a museum about Alta Gracia, which was possibly the most boring museum ever, even more so since we couldn't understand any of what they were saying.


On our third day in Cordoba we checked out a couple of museums, and took a walking tour to see all the other sites. The city population is made up of mostly college students which makes for a great vibe - lots of hopping bars, restaurants and shops on every corner. In between the modern architecutre are the most beautiful spanish churches, some made of stucco and some of stone, but enough to finally make me feel like I am really in "South America." That night we followed the young guy who works at our hostel, Phillippe, to his college to watch a final presentation him and his classmates were performing on traditional Argentinian practices. They fed us free empanadas (delicious dough filled with different kinds of meat) and danced the Folklore. They loved our attempts at speaking spanish and laughed at our dancing skills, when we tried to partake.
After a day on the horses, the next day we decided to go on a trek to the Parque Nacional Quebrada Del Condorito, where we hoped to catch a glimpse of some Condors (as you might has deduced from the name.) We picked up a new dutch friend, Jasper, and boarded a local bus. Before we got on we asked the bus driver if this would take us to the park, and he said yes. As we climbed steadily into the Argentinan hills, going further and further into the middle of nowhere, the bus abruptly pulled over, the driver waved at us, told us to get off, and we couldn't help but think that this must be the wrong place. We literally were at the end of a dirt rode going into the middle of nowhere, thinking that all the locals were having a good laugh as they peeled away. In the end we hiked for 2 1/2 hours into the national park and got to see amazing landscape and lots of Condors, and a bus actually picked us up on its way back into the city.

After another 20 hours bus trip we are currently in Port Madryn, Argentina, in the area known as Patagonia. It's barren, cold, expensive and filled with lots of wildlife!! Will keep you updated on our trip south to the "End of the World."