Street Corners 2 - Lestra / Juarez - Chascomus (Argentina) - 16 November 2009 - 15:21

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Street Corners 2
Lestra / Juarez
Chascomus (Argentina)
16 November 2009
15:21

I sat at the base of a tree in the wide leafy boulevard which led down to the laguna in Chascomus. A hundred kilometres or so south of Buenos Aires, and set on the edge of the pampas, this town developed with the rise of the beef industry and the gaucho culture which came with it.

Still an agricultural cente, the town now shows evidence of newer farming methods: tractor repair workshops, machine part dealerships, various allotments and small-holdings.

Looking down at me from the centre of the road, set up on the grassy verge between the two carriageways, stares the white bust of Sr Lestra, after whom the street was named.

Behind some trees on the far side of the road, there is the museo pampeano housing a collection of historic guacho memorabilia from the nineteenth century: metal canons, wooden carriages, farm equipment and fishing devices.

A bird of prey flies overhead before dropping out of sight behind the trees. The black wings with white tips suggests that this is a breed of vulture.

Looking upwards I can also see a street lamp reaching out over the road. Its peeling blue and green post also serves as the connection point for various telephone and electrity wires which converge here.

The corner is quiet - the only sound being the occasional buzz of mopeds as they pass on their way to or from the lake.

A wooden road sign points down along Juarez indicating that there is a hotel in that direction. The road, however, is almost deserted and trees arching out over the pavements conceal nearly all the houses.

There is little activity as the day is hot, and most of the shops in the town are shut. A few high white clouds speckle the dark blue sky. A light breeze momentarily passes up from the lake, disturbing the branches above my head and causing the shadows on the grass in front of me to tremble for an instant - then all is still once more.

There is a government building behind me: a two storey white brick house with reddish tiles on the roof, resembling the construction of a Mediterranean villa. It is a hydrobiology station, part of the ministry of agriculture. Iron railings run around the place, supported occasionally by brick pillars.

Further along the street I can see a vet´s surgery - but this is also closed for siesta. It is a traditional colonial low rise house with light green painted walls and dark green windows with wooden shutters. The only sign of life is a black and white sheepdog lying on its side away from the sun on the path outside.

An ice cream seller is on the opposite corner of the junction. Despite the warm weather, there are still only four or five customers, mostly children, sitting outside at metal tables.

A dirty and slightly rusted pick up truck trundles by towards the cente of town. Three men sit silently in the trailer at the back wearing sleeveless shirts and bright bandannas.

There is a momentary sound of excitement. The vet has returned to her surgery, and this has raised the dog from his idleness; for he is now running out into the road, barking and stopping the traffic. A moped manages to drive round him, but is then pursued at great pace for about 50m until the dog tires of the activity and returns once more to its supine position by the door of the surgery.

The stillness returns - and except for one or two cars coming up from the lake there is no sound.

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