The 40 Day Five

Two gauchos in an old Ford pickup pulled over. There was a mattress in the truck bed which made for a perfect afternoon nap. They were headed for the small town of Gobernador Costa.

When Haukur and I started talking about our trip back in September we had one goal in mind, buy horses. We wanted to cross the desert on horseback. It was all we could talk about. Pulling into Gobernador Costa there was police directing traffic. The town was in the second day of the Festival Provincial del Caballo (The Provincial Horse Festival). Our dreams had come true. Every gaucho and his horse in the province of Chubut had come to participate.

We would inquire about the horses, but the smell of asado and the rumbling in our bellies took priority. Walking through the crowd, following our noses, the attention of the people left the horses and was fixed on the three dirty travelers. Gobernador Costa is the furthest thing from a tourist attraction.

Surrounding the horse ring were un montón of little stands where the locals prepared food. We found an establishment with a little squat Argentine woman roasting lamb on the parilla. The meat melted in our mouths. We devoured a whole leg each. Stuffed to the brim, we asked our proprietor if we could leave our backpacks in her stand while we explored the festival. She did us one better and offered it to us for the night.

The festival was an Argentine Rodeo. We watched on as the gauchos, in their elaborate outfits, rode the bucking broncos with the occasional interuption from an ambulance.

The gaucho, Argentina´s cowboy, lives in a man´s world. They ride horses, eat meat, and drink beer until they can´t walk straight. I don´t know who is tougher, the American cowboy or the Argentine gaucho, but the gauchos certainly have more style. In town that evening the three of us stopped into a local pool bar. There was not a woman in sight. It was filled with the participants of the festivities, in full attire, from the young gaucho to the old, for the sons and fathers do everything equally.

Returning later to our home for the evening we found the whole family gathered around the parilla. The father, a short man with a waddle and a warm smile, insisted on serving us choripan and beer to the displeasure of Haukur´s already irregular bowel movements.