Brick by brick, we built a fire.

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Hola todos!

Well, I’ve made it through my first week and some change.

Last Sunday, after a few hours worth of work in the yard, we set out for a picnic at the lagoon. While the lagoon is located within the premises of the farm, I had never seen it. This, however, is not saying much given that the property is over 1600 hectares in distance (HUGE). I was eager to explore more of the land and was excited at the prospect of visiting a lagoon. I was told that the plan would be to first eat at the “old house” (at the time, I was unclear as to whether this description indicated its age, or whether Federico had formally lived there), collect some bricks for the construction of an oven (where we would find these bricks, I did not know), and then have tea by the water- maybe do some fishing. This sounded like a fairly ambiguous, but excellent plan to me.

We packed up almost everything contained within our tiny kitchen; salt, ketchup, potatoes, eggs, veggies, bread, juice, beer, cutting boards (also used as plates), glasses, frying pans, and the infamous (infamous simply because I had never seen one before) iron cauldron. We also hitched the large green trailer to the back of the truck, presumably to house the bricks we were to gather. And off we went.

As always, whenever we go somewhere in the truck Bruno and Negra gallop along beside us, often so close that I have to hold my breath in anticipation of hearing a loud thud and then squeals of pain. Juan and Federico seem to have no such concern, most likely being used to the close proximity of our canine friends, and drive forward without batting an eyelash. Bruno, in his old age of 9 years, usually lasts only until the first gate and then trots back home. Negra, on the other hand, is a fiercely fast paced runner. I once saw her chase after a rabbit at nose to tail speeds. The lagoon is 4 km away from the farm and she sprinted the entire way- and beat us there. A truly loyal companion she is.

When we arrived first to the old house, one thing was abundantly clear- Federico could have never lived there. The house was not so much a house at all, but two ramshackle walls, connected by a shared corner, and a giant pile of bricks scattered across the dirt below. No roof, no doors, no semblance of a former homestead whatsoever. I guess that answered my question about the bricks. We set to work. The “house” was surrounded by a thicket of trees and grass, and navigating one’s way in and out while balancing a heap of bricks was no easy task. Brick by brick, pile by pile, we hauled our bounty back to the truck and heaved them onto the trailer. One thing I have noticed, both through this chore and others, is that pill bugs are internationally borne insects. Almost every brick I peeled from the dirt had been home to at least a dozen grey little bugs. “Sorry guys”, I would whisper as I swept each one off the bricks with my finger- a task that would have surely made me squeamish about week ago.

As we worked, an uneasy feeling came over me. It was strange, almost eerie, to be standing on top of rubble that used to shelter other people all the while having overlooked their lives. The house would have been close to a hundred years old- Federico guessed that it could have been 40 years since its last inhabitants. Who were they? I wondered. I think maybe it was a combination of watching too many horror films involving old houses, the secluded and hidden location of the house, and bearing witness to its ultimately collapsed state, that I could only imagine dark deeds and evil beings having existed there. A ridiculous notion no doubt, but there was something unsettling about the place nonetheless.

After we finished loading the bricks, it was time to make dinner. As per usual, this meant we needed to go in search of some burnable wood and begin to set up camp. Organizing the ingredients and setting out lawn chairs was one thing, but starting a fire, in the middle of a field, on a windy day, was quite another. Despite our efforts, we managed only to create an abundance of foul smelling smoke, without the slightest hint of wood catching to flame. At this point, my stomach began to despair. I was so hungry and my only available food sources were raw eggs and uncooked potatoes. Yum. Finally, we got the bright idea to utilize the bricks we had just spent hours lugging around to make a fire pit- this worked much better than our feeble attempts to ignite a pile of sticks in the middle of the grass. To the delight of my digestive system, dinner was back in business. Fried eggs, homemade French fries, bread with onions and tomatoes, and sweet tasting ketchup to smother it all in a sea of red. Delicious. There is something about food that is cooked on an open fire (especially one that burned on the back of our relentless effort)- it is simply more satisfying.

After our meal, we cleared our makeshift table (an upside down milk crate) and played cards while watching the sun set. I’ll tell you, the sunsets here are truly magical. The flat terrain allows for the perfect view of the sun slipping beneath the earth, shooting out rays of orange and pink light as it disappears, almost as if providing to us a token of good faith- a promise of its imminent return the next day. Sleeping is no longer so restless when the sun’s commitment to rise and shine is painted across the darkening sky.

Unfortunately, we didn’t get a chance to visit the lagoon before the sun sank beneath us, but it is on our list of things to do this week. We were so tired after heaping piles of bricks onto the trailer, and struggling with a stubborn fire, that packing up to head home took quite the effort. So! This week the potential plan is to bring our camping gear and spend the night out in the field. This is convenient for me- the next farm requires that I camp on their property and I have yet to test out my tent- knowing my luck I’ll be missing a pole or two. I’ll keep you posted.

As always, there is much more I could add about my ongoing adventure, but for now I will leave it here.

Talk soon!

Brooke

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