Greens in Argentina - Part 6
Today we visited an Argentinian Gaucho Ranch about an hours drive north of Buenos Aires. Approximately half of the tour group managed to meet the 10.00am departure deadline, the majority of those were from the front of the bus. It was no surprise that most of the 'Adventure Islanders' failed to make the kick-off and spent the day shopping at Florida Avenue or at Palermo Soho.
The journey through Buenos Aires northern suburbs provides an insight into the contrasting architechture of this sprawling city which is home to 4 million people. After leaving the leafy boulevardes and avenues of downtown we travel through the commercial district which is a mixture of modern and traditional Spanish, Italian and French influences (they have all had a crack at this place) and although the construction is sometimes adjoining it all seems to work despite on occassions being separated by centuries in terms of when it was built.
The freeway north takes us past a slum area on the left hand side - jammed in hard against the freeway walls it is home to many construction workers and their families. Most of the building is a work in progress we are told. When the residents accumulate a few addtional pesos they procure bricks and build extensions or finish what they had earlier started. The military junta that ruled here during the mid 1970's demolished most of the area however it has regenerated in more democratic times.
The Rio del Plata (the River Plate) looms up on the right hand side of the bus. With its churning waves it could be easily mistaken for a sea or a gulf except for its chocolate brown colour which gives up its identity. It is 70 kilometres wide at this point and with 300 kilometres to run before it meets the Atlantic Ocean it is completely fresh in its composition and provides Buenos Aires with an abundant water supply. Alexjandro assures us that it is all treated and filtered before it hits the taps.
The urban sprawl becomes less dense as we travel north on the Pan American Highway, a six lane road that seemed destined to deposit us in Mexico before the bus driver took a sharp right and drove off the highway and through the gates of the Gaucho Ranch.
We lave the bus and are greeted with an obligatory drink - it becomes obvious that some of us are still struggling with the language translation in the beverage department despite nine days of practice. One player who will remain nameless (although I can categorically say that he doesn't play in the single digit numbered jerseys) did tell me that he thought that the grape juice was a bit sour. It turns out that it was red wine.
We were then treated to a brief horse ride which most of the group particiated in - the Gaucho's even found steeds strong enough to carry our none to diminutive tight forwards - at home it would have been a case for the RSPCA.
A huge BBQ had been prepared, the ranch was expecting 400 guests for lunch. Sausages, steak, chicken and salad were all consumed, washed down with red wine and beer.
We made a strategic retreat to the bus before the musical floor-show got too far into its program - the consensus was that we didn't need another cultural experience of the Tango kind.
Back in BA most took to browsing in the shops along Santa Fe Avenue, a team dinner was held at 9.30pm the rest of the night was free.
Rugby tomorrow against the La Plata Rugby Club
Correspondent d' Internationale