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Published: February 19th 2009
My next destination, and the last one where I´d get to speak Spanish, was Uruguay: now, I didn´t know much about it, except that they like their football and they apparently have good meat... I didn´t test the former, but boy did I make sure I sampled the latter! Paraguay, Argentina and Uruguay were meat fest to me: after 9 months of not fantastic and often overcooked meat, let me tell you that steak often was on the menu! Anyway... I crossed the border in the north west of the country with a 5 minute boat ride accross a river and ended up in the town of Salto, from where I took a bus to Tacuarambo, which my guide described as real ´gaucho´(cowboy) country... Is it, really?! There is a gaucho fiesta here, but it´s in March and I couldn´t exactly stick around for a whole month, so I just visited the town (really nice) and sampled LOTS of meat (absolutely fantastic) before heading off. And that´s when it happened... I took a bus to a town called Durazno, from where I wanted to take another bus: but the first bus left me at a crossroad, not in town, and within
2 minutes the said crossroad was full of horses with real life cowboys (and girls) on them! I could feel my excitement level reaching unknown points, and asked the taxi driver what was going on: he told me that day was the beginning of the fiesta del gaucho in Durazno... Forget about the bus mate, take me there! I took time to drop my backpack at the bus terminal (and that´s when one of the straps broke... Mr Berghaus, if we ever meet, you´re dead meat! The zip broke on my little bag, and now the strap on the big one! What do you think you´re doing?!?) and buy a bus ticket for later that day, then headed off to where the party was going to be. The horses hadn´t arrived yet, but the fiesta was starting: all the different ranches had huge barbecues going on all around the field, and there were little stalls selling cowboy stuff like hats and horse riding thingies... All of a sudden, there was a big cowboy noise (something like ´woo hoo´only in a very male cowboy way!) and I swear you could feel the ground shaking under your feet as they all started
turning up and filling the field... I thought they´d never stop arriving, there were hundreds of horses there, it was just unbelievable! They all turned to face the stage and some guy made a very moving speech about how important gauchos are to the country, there was some music, and then the fiesta was declared opened. All the gauchos went to the part of the field where their ranch barbecue was, and unfortunately for me it was time to head back to take the bus... But I really enjoyed my improvised little cowboy stop!
I got to the town of Colonia, on the other side of the river to Buenos Aires, and set off to repair my backpack, kind of managed, broke the needle and gave up. That day, I got an email from my little Japonese friend to let me know that he was on his way to buenos Aires and would stop in Colonia too, so the next day after a quick visit of the town (lovely, but full of tourists), I met up with Moto to catch up on the past 2 weeks.
After that, I decided to become a bit of a beach bum,
so I went to Piriápolis (family beach resort sort of place, and for some reason I actually liked it!), then La Paloma from where I went to spend the day in the gorgeous sand dunes of Cabo Polonio, and finally in Punta del Diablo, which apparently used to be a very laid back fishing village and is not an overdevelopped tourist place which I didn´t really enjoy (that´s also due to the fact that I was in an 8 bed dorm, and 3 girls had no notion whatsoever of what sleeping in a dorm means: at 0.30, 1.30 and 4am, they turned up in the dorm while some of us where sleeping, turned the lights on, chatted away like there was no one sleeping, rolled joints, screamed... That they woke us up and annoyed the hell out of us every single time didn´t seem to bother them one little bit. I can tell you something: if I didn´t kill them there and then, it means I´ll never kill anyone in my life...)
I could go on to describe every beach I´ve been to, how blue the sky, how thin the sand, how tanned I am (which is VERY), but
instead I´ll share a few thoughts I´ve been musing about over the last few days... It all started in La Paloma, because one of the guys of my dorm (I was atually the only girl in a 5 bed dorm... Every morning it stank of boys. Boys definitely smell!) was Argentinian and told me that he´d been travelling for 12 days and missed his family. Needless to say, I stared at him in utter disbelief! 12 days, and he misses his family?! But then, this guy had never left his family, he lives with them, and they even have a family business, so I suppose it could be a bit of a shock to be on his own all of a sudden. And then I started wondering: what does this say about me (and us Europeans in general) that I could leave my family behind for so long (I´m not saying that I don´t miss them, just that I don´t cry about it every day!)? Is there something wrong in our society that we can be so detached, or on the contrary, have we reached a good level of independence when we´re adults that we can leave and do our
own thing? One of the first things that struck me when I started my trip and has stayed with me throughout is how families all live together here, and how close they are: it is obviously for economical reasons that they do it -even the slightly better off Argentinians told me they find it very hard to manage to get a place of their own- but what percentage of them would actually leave their parents´ house if they could afford it? And would they leave their grandparents to live on their own as we do? Every time I tell people that I have an 88 gran (it was her birthday last week! Happy birthday to by beloved gran who´ll never read this on account that she doesn´t have a computer and doesn´t speak English!) who lives on her own, they look at me like I´m the most insane person they´ve seen all year (which I didn´t mind so much at the beginning of January, but is starting to rattle me a little by now...) because to them, it´s simply not done. Life here more or less goes like this: you were born in a family, they (and by ´they´I mean
your parents and grandparents) raise you, then you start to work, stay with your family, have children who will be raised by yourself but with the help of your brothers/sisters/parents/grandparents and you will take care of your parents when they grow old and stop working. To us, it´s not quite like this is it?! We were born and raised, then as soon as we can we fly out of the nest never to be seen again (OK, slight exaggeration here!), when our parents grow old the state gives them a pension (well, technically us through taxes, obviously...), we pray they´ll manage on their own, and if they don´t, we stick them in a home, hoping for the best; I´m sure if any Latino saw our old people homes they´d keel over and die... I have to admit, I´ve been feeling guilty ever since La Paloma, and I´m still not sure which of the 2 ways of life is best, if there is indeed a better one. Have we not in our fight for independence completely failed our old people? When it got so hot in the summer of 2003, thousands of old people died in France because they had no
one to take care of them, make sure they were drinking enough... Shouldn´t we be terribly ashamed of ourselves? (the response of the French government: you´re now going to work on ´lundi de pentecote´, which used to be a bank holiday; we´ll use the money made that day to help old people. Mmmmmmm....) How can old people not feel like they´re left behind because they´re not needed anymore? My neighbour in England was exactly 50 years my senior, and I like to think that we were friends: he´d look after my dog (bless him... Actually, he probably was more her friend than mine!), and gradually I managed to let him allow me to do things for him (this is a very complicated turn of phrase but I can´t think of anything more simple!) like mowing his lawn or taking him shopping, but I was also always aware of the fact that he seemed to like and want to keep his independence; then again, he had health problems which could make his life a bit hard, and with a daughter in the North and a son in Canada, he didn´t really have anyone to help... I have to say I genuinely
loved hanging around with him, asking him what his life had been like and yes, I genuinely do miss him and our long chats in the garden as he´d try to get Fiji to run after the other neighbour´s cat... But now I realise, I´ve never taken my gran shopping, not even once, never even so much as offered, and the times I have done something for her have been pretty rare I have to admit. Now in my defense (but is that really in my defense?!) I left home when I was 17 and have been living abroad since 2002, but still, am I representative of my generation? I have plenty of friends who live quite far from their family, so I don´t exactly feel like the exception here: have we therefore all forgotten what the word ´family´is really supposed to mean? Are we becoming more and more ungrateful towards our elders? I´m not even going to try and give answers here, because to be honest I have very few, and I suppose it is a matter of personal history and all that, but I just thought I´d share my questions with you (wise...) guys, and if anyone has
THE answers, (or any anwer!) I´ll gladly have it! Maybe I´ve just been spending too much time on the beach with nothing to do!
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Ma destination suivante, et la derniere ou j´allais parler Espagnol, etait l´Uruguay: a vrai dire, je n´en connaissais pas grand chose, a part qu´ils sont fous de foot et font apparemment de la bonne viande... J´ai pas teste le foot, maisd je me suis donnee a fond dans la viande! Le Paraguay, l´Argentine et l´Uruguay ont ete des festivals de la viande pour moi: apres 9 mois de viande pas super bonne et souvent bien trop cuite (style 3 jours de cuisson en trop...), le steak a souvent ete au menu! Enfin... J´ai passe la frontiere au nord ouest du pays avec une traversee de riviere de 5 minutes en bateau (ca va sans dire, pas a la nage...) et je suis arrivee a Salto, d´ou j´ai pris un bus pour Tacuarembo, que mon guide LP decrivait comme une vraie ville ´gaucho´(cowboy). Ah bon?! Il y a une fiesta del gaucho la bas mais elle est en mars et je me voyais assez mal rester un mois, alors je me suis contentee
de visiter la ville (sympa, mais pas vu de cowboy...) et tester le resultat du travail de ces cowboys fantomes (donc me gaver de viande... Elle etait trooooop bonne!) avant de repartir. Et c´est la que c´est arrive... Je suis allee dans une ville appelee Durazno, d´ou je voulais prendre un autre bus: le premier bus m´a laissee a une intersection a l´entree de la ville, et 2 minutes plus trd j´etais entouree de cowboys (et girls!)! Je sentais mon niveau d´excitation monter avec chaque nouveau cheval que je voyais, alors j´ai demande a mon chauffeur de taxi ce qu´il se passait: il m´a repondu que ce jour- la debutait la fiesta del gaucho de Durazno... Changement de programme, on s´en fout du bus! Je suis passee au terminal laisser mon sac au depose bagages (et c´est le moment que la bretelle a choisi pour ceder... Mr Berghaus si ton chemin croise le mien un jour, je vais avoir 2 mots a te dire... La fermeture de mon petit sac a casse, et la bretelle de mon gros sac... C´est quoi cette blague?!) et acheter mon ticket de bus pour plus tard, puis me suis diriger vers le parc ou
la fete se passait. Quand je suis arrivee, les chevaux n´etaient pas encore la, mais la fete commencait: chaque ranch avait commence un immense barbecue autour du champ, et il y avait des stands qui vendaient des trucs de vrais cowboys! Malheureusement, mes besoins en eperon sont plutot limites en ce moment... Tout a coup, il y a eu un gros bruit de cowboy (style woo hoo, sauf que ca ca fait Jessica dans Roger Rabbit, mais la c´etait un woo hoo de cowboy un vrai!) et je sentais le sol bouger sous mes pieds alors que les chevaux arrivaient... J´ai bien cru qu´ils n´allaient jamais cesser d´arriver, il y en avait des centaines, c´etait incroyable! Ils se sont tous mis en face de la scene et quelqu´un a fait un discours sur l´importance des gauchos pour le pays, il y a eut de la musique, la fete a ete declaree ouverte. Tous les gauchos ont rejoints leurs ranchs respectifs autour du parc, et malheureusement pour moi il etait l´heure d´aller prendre le bus.
Je suis allee jusqu´a Colonia, en face de Buenos Aires de l´autre cote de la riviere, et ai repare mon sac tant bien que mal,
jusqu´a ce que mon aiguille casse, moment ou j´ai abandonne. Ce jour la, j´ai recu un mail de mon petit Japonais prefere me disant qu´il etait en chemin pour Buenos Aires et allait s´arreter a Colonia le lendemain, alors on s´est rejoints et apres une rapide visite de la ville (jolie, mais pleine de touristes), on s´est raconte nos aventures respectives depuis que l´on s´etait separes (et vous serez ravis d´apprendre que tous ses copains pensent que je suis folle et que c´est moi qui l´ai entraine dans des plans a 2 balles du style dormir dans des allees de bus ou des gares routieres! Comme si!)
Apres ca, j´ai decide que mon bronzage avait besoin de perfectionnement, alors je suis allee a Periápolis (style Cap d´Agde/Sete, truc balneaire de famille, et je sais pas pourquoi mais j´ai bien aime. Va comprendre...), puis La Paloma d´ou je suis allee passer une journee dans les magnifiques dunes de sable de Cabo Polonio, et enfin Punta del Diablo, qui apparemment etait un petit village de pecheurs sympa il y a encore peu, et est maintenant un endroit touristique sur-developpe que je n´ai vraiment pas aime (ca n´a pas ete aide par
le fait que j´etais dans un dortoir de 8 lits, et 3 filles n´avait aucune notion de ce que c´est que d´etre dans un dortoir: a 0.30, 1.30 et 4h, elles ont rapplique en allumant la lumiere, se sont posees dans la chambre en discutant le plus fort possible tout en se roulant des joints... Le fait qu´elles nous reveillent a chaque fois et qu´elles nous enervent les laissait apparemment indifferentes. Si je les ai pas tuees ce soir la, c´est vraiment que je tuerai jamais personne de ma vie...)
Je pourrais continuer en vous decrivant toutes les plages ou je suis allee, le bleu du ciel, comme le sable etait fin, comme je suis bronzee (TRES!), mais a la place je voudrais partager quelques pensees qui me trottent dans la tete depuis quelques jours... Ca a commence a La Paloma, parce qu´un des gars du dortoir (j´etais la seule fille dans un dortoir de 5 lits... Ca puait le garcon le matin. Les gars puent, vraiment!) etait Argentin et m´a dit que ca faisait 12 jours qu´il voyageait et que sa famille lui manquait. Inutile de dire, la surprise se lisait sur mon visage! 12 jours, et sa
famille lui manquait?! Mais relativisons, ce type n´avait jamais quitte sa famille, il habite avec eux, et ils travaillent meme ensemble pour la petite entreprise familiale, alors je suppose que ca peut etre un peu un choc de se retrouver soudain seul. Et j´ai commence a me poser des questions: qu´est-ce que ca dit de moi (et des Europeens en general) que je puisse laisser ma famille pour si longtemps (je ne dis pas qu´ils ne me manquent pas, juste que je n´en pleure pas tous les jours!)? Y a-t-il quelque chose de profondement derange dans notre societe pour que l´on soit si detaches, ou au contraire a-t-on atteint un niveau d´independance optimum qui fait que quand on devient adulte, on peut tracer notre propre chemin? Une des premieres choses qui m´a marquee quand j´ai commence a voyager est comme ils vivent tous en famille, et comme ils sont tous proches: c´est bien evidemment pour des raisons economiques qu´ils le font -meme les Argentins, pourtant un peu plus riches que les autres, m´ont dit ne pas pouvoir se permettre de vivre seuls pour la plupart- mais quel pourcentage d´entre eux quitterait le domicile familial s´ils le pouvaient? Et laisseraient-ils leurs
grands-parents vivre seuls comme on le fait? Quand je dis que j´ai une grand-mere de 88 ans (c´etait d´ailleurs son anni la semaine derniere! Bon anni a ma Meme qui lira jamais ca parce qu´elle n´a pas d´ordinateur!) qui vit toute seule, ils me regardent comme si j´etais folle parce que pour eux, ca ne se fait pas. La vie ici est ainsi en gros: on nait, on (ce on la inclut les parents et grands-parents) nous eleve, ensuite on commence a travailler, on a des enfants, nos freres/soeurs/parents/grands-parents aident a les elever, et on s´occupe de ses parents (financierement et autre) quand ils vieillissent et arretent de travailler. Pour nous c´est pas vraiment ca, non?! On nait, on nous eleve, puis des qu´on le peut on prend nos jambes a notre cou (a part quelques Tanguy!), nos parents ne nous revoient jamais (OK, j´exaggere un tout petit peu ici!) et quand ils vieillissent le gouvernement leur donne une retraite, on croise les doigts pour qu´ils puissent toujours vivre seuls, et s´ils ne le peuvent pas, on les met dans des maisons de retraite and espere que ca se passera bien; si les Latinos voyaient nos mourroirs a vieux, ils
hallucineraient... J´admets, je me sens plutot coupable depuis La Paloma, et je ne suis toujours pas sure lequel des 2 modes de vie est le meilleur (enfin si: quand on est jeune, le notre; quand on est vieux, le leur!). En voulant etre tant independant, sommes nous en train de completement laisser tomber nos personnes agees? On se souvient tous de la canicule de 2003 et du nombre de petits vieux qui sont morts, principalement parce qu´ils n´avaient personne pour prendre soin d´eux. Ne devrions-nous pas avoir honte de cela? Les personnes agees n´ont-elles pas l´impression qu´on les met au placard parce qu´on en a plus besoin? Mon voisin en Angleterre avait exactement 50 ans de plus que moi, et j´aime penser que nous etions amis: il gardait mon chien (il etait certainement plus copain avec elle qu´avec moi en fait!), et petit a petit j´ai reussi a le convaincre de me laisser faire des trucs pour lui, comme tondre sa pelouse ou l´emmener faire du shopping. J´etais toujours consciente du fait qu´il avait l´air d´apprecier et de vouloir conserver son idependance, mais qu´en meme temps, il avait des problemes de sante qui pouvaient lui rendre la vie difficile, et
avec une fille dans le nord du pays et un fils au Canada, il n´avait personne sur qui compter. J´aimais vraiment discuter avec lui, lui demander comment avait ete sa vie, et il me manque, tout comme nos longues discussions dans le jardin pendant qu´il essayait (avec grand succes) d´apprendre a Fiji a courir apres le chat du voisin... Mais je me rends maintenant compte, je n´ai jamais emmene ma propre grand-mere faire son shopping, et je ne lui ai jamais meme propose... Pour ma defense (mais est-ce vraiment en ma defense?), j´ai quitte la maison a 17 ans et vit a l´etranger depuis 2002, mais quand meme, est-ce que je represente ma genration? J´ai pas mal d´amis qui vivent loin de leur famille, alors je ne me sens pas vraiment comme une exception: avons-nous donc tous oublie ce que le mot ´famille´veut dire? Est-on en train de devenir de plus en plus ingrats envers nos aines? Je ne vais meme pas essayer de vous donner des reponses, tout d´abord parce que j´en ai tres peu, et ensuite je suppose que c´est aussi une question d´histoire personnelle et tout ca, mais j´avais juste envie de partager mes questions existentielles avec vous, et si vous avez des reponses a m´offrir, ne vous genez pas! Peut-etre ai-je simplement passe trop de temps a la plage avec pas grand chose a faire!
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Zeeke
Mr. Unicornio Azul
Travel
Yo. Sophie! Its been fun following your travels throught Latin America. In many cases I did feel like I was there too. You said Uruguay is the last country you will be visiting and speaking Spanish. What are you doing next? Are you going to back to your Amada Francia? It will be nice to keep in touch with you. Take care.