We stopped briefly in Lujan to see the most visited site in South America, La Basilica de Nuestra Senora de Lujan. It is a spectacular Neogothic rose colored cathedral, pointing violently to the heavens with sharp, scalloped steeples topped with golden sun medallions radiating the symbol of Argentina. Absolutely gorgeous... probably the only church I've seen down here that could hold a candle to the ancient cathedrals of Europe.
Upon our arrival to the estancia, we were greeted with complimentary empanadas and a profound inhalation of fresh air! The country air literally smells and feels different from the city air... I can breathe it in without shortening the years of my life! It wafted the strumming of guitarra hispanola to our ears and we were drawn to the front lawn of a traditional Argentine plantation home where a couple dressed in the traditional costume of a gaucho (cowboy) and his china (sweetheart) were dancing foklorico.
We passed the afternoon riding horses, exploring the house, and chasing the flocks of pavos reales (peacocks) that roam the grounds. At one point we got to whitness 7 of them spread out their irridesant plumage in effort to impress on peahen who wandered by entirely unimpressed.
Then we had an asado... course after course of meat and bread, the two staples of an Argentine diet. I was content to request the vegetarian meal, a bowl of spaghetti and parmesan cheese, being that I've been fortunate enough to partake in several asados already with my host family and didn't deam it necessary to invite the days of digestive difficulty that would inevitably follow the ridiculous consumption of so much meat. The first course was salad and baskets of bread... typical right? Followed by chorizo, sausages meant to be sandwhiched in between the biscuits of bread and smothered in chimichurri sauce, a concoction of onion, bell peppers, and olive oil, the closest thing to spicy that Argentina knows. The second course is blood sausage, fat black little sacks of an oozy gooey mush that intrigues one just enough to solicit the questions "What exactly is this?" and then immediate regret asking. Really, if you can excuse the texture and forget the fact that your eating cooked coagulated blood... it can be quite flavorful! The third course is chicken, cooked like all their meat is: purely and simply over an open fire, without marinade, spices, seasoning, or sauce of any kind. The fourth course (what are you full already??) is finally, huge, think cuts of the best quality of prime rib roast you've ever seen in your life with strips of fat 2 inches thick that insulate the tenderest juciest pink middle. And if you haven't yet reached a comatosis state, they finished off with homemade helado, more guitarra hispanola and bailando foklorico which we were taught and invited to partake in. Needless to say I was the first one on the dance floor!
Afterwards we saw gaucho demonstrations of their traditional costume and horsemanship skills. They hung a ring just large enough to fit my pinky finger from an archway, and charged at it on horseback in full gallop with a stick the size of a pencil, hooking it through with aim and timing impressivle precise. It was incredible to watch the grown men surmount this spectacular feat, but fora grand finale, an 11 year old kid more deftly handling his horse than any cowboy I've ever seen before, nails it on the first try amidst cheers and applause from the crowd. The he haughtily dismounts his steed, and struts over to me to hand me the ring and claim his prize, a besito on the cheek! Yeah... I felt pretty legit in that moment. No... unfortunately I did not get his number.
The evening ended with tartas fritas and the drinking of mate, Argentina's favorite pasttime. Its a super strong and highly caffeinated green tea like herb that they sip through silver bombillas out of a gourd and pass around among friends in a manner almost ritualistic. On any given day, at any given hour, you can see couples drinking it in the park, security guards at their posts, shop owners behind the counter, pretty much anyone and everyone with lips to put to a straw! It's my theory as to how they can survive such late nights out on the town... the caffeine practically runs through their veins!
It was unfortunate that the mate was the last thing we did before getting back on the bus for a 2 hour ride home, because most of us just wanted to succumb to the fat-and-happy food coma that was washing over us. I've never been able to take the traditional South American siesta before... maybe I just wasn't eating enough beforehand!
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