Rodrigo, my host in Tandil put me in touch with Rodolfo Tula, a horseman and agriculture technician who has a small farm right outside of Juarez. I wasn’t sure where exactly the property was and when I neared the small town, my cell ran out of battery. “Perfect,” I thought to myself. Unsure of what to do next, I spotted a family drinking mate outside their home. I rode up to them and asked if I could charge my phone in their house. They graciously allowed me and offered some mate.
When the phone turned back on and I told them my host’s name, I didn’t even have to call Rodolfo! As it turns out, his farm was right next door. Once we realized how close I was to my destination we all had a good laugh and I bid my new friends farewell.
Rodolfo, like the rest of the Argentines I have met thus far, welcomed me with open arms and of course an Assado – BBQ.
“I’m going to sing a traditional Argentinian country song that talks about a horse the same colour as yours, a Picazo,” my new friend said to me cradling his wooden guitar next to the fire.
As he strummed the chords and belted out the sweet melody, I felt like I was in a movie. His face lit orange from the fire, the fat dripping from the meat making the fire scream and change colour, the moonlight illuminating the scene. It was too perfect. I was in the heart of Argentina, drinking red wine with a Gaucho singing a song that seemed as if it was written about the horse I had just rode in on… too good to be true!
That night I slept like a baby. In a real bed. A child’s bed. With stuffed animals staring at me as my feet hung off the end. I didn’t mind, I was exhausted!
The next morning there was no time to rest. I was first interviewed by the local radio station, then Rodrigo picked me up in his truck and drove me all the way to Ayacucho to pick up the support van. I can’t thank this extraordinary man enough for his help!! Not only did he drive me 160 kms, he stopped at an amazing Quarter Horse ranch along the way just to show me the horses.
“Since I know you love Quarter Horses you have to see this ranch, it’s the biggest in Argentina,” he said as we drove into Maryland.
We spent a beautiful afternoon there meeting the horses and the workers. As it turns out, the manager is a Brazilian lady who is from Presidente Prudente, one of the cities I rode through. We knew a lot of the same people, small world.
By the time I arrived back in Benito Juarez it was already dark, and when I got to Rodolfo’s home, there were 7 Gauchos waiting for me with a platter of cheese, chorizo and ham and a lot of wine on the table. I was excited to see their smiling faces but I must admit a little part of me yelled, “noooooooooooooooo,” deep inside. I was hoping to sleep early for the next day’s ride but that wasn’t an option. We drank and shared stories until 2 am when I finally crashed.
At 6am my alarm clock went off and I wanted to disappear to a far, far away galaxy. But all I could do was brush my teeth, get dressed, saddle my steeds, and continue south.
