vale i will give you a poor attempt at a description of san antonio de areco.
as we (madre y yo) drove from pinamar, which is southeast of BA, to SA de A, the main thing that we noted was how much more lush the greenery gets. the arid plains of pinamar slowly deepened into dark green fields, with leafy, willowy trees keeping the innumerable horses and cows in the delicious shade of the afternoon. once we approached SA de A, there was no sign of town, just a bus stop on the side of the road. as i, porter of two, collected the bags, a remise (ie a car that serves the same purpose as a taxi) consisting of a driver and his wife in their ancient family bandwagon, drove up and picked our bags right up. as they drove us into the streets of the town, it was hard to judge, as the town was absolutely void of inhabitants. the hotel, from outside looked equally abandoned, shutters closed, a doorbell to ring to enter, and no sign of life anywhere.
and then the door opened.
we walked into a beautiful room that used to be a patio, with dark grey walls and cow hyde rugs and wrought iron furniture and plush beds and the typical black and white tiles of the region. the back terrace is where asado can be enjoyed, and there is a library in which i am currently sitting and listening to the life of the town riding by. once we settled in, we headed out. funny what you don´t notice in a car ride. the town (of roughly 20,000 people) is base camp for the gauchos' culture of argentina, which are like the cowboys of the south. they wear berets and boots and colorful belts with silver buckles. the chaps don the traditional patterns in exciting blues and yellows and reds, and their role from my limited understanding is to round up the cattle on their horses. so this is one of the towns that has maintained this history, and i can assure you that there are still gauchos roaming the streets of San Antonio.
The buildings are short, and the grid plan of the city reminds me of the forlorn mining towns in Colorado, only much, much greener. the buildings are from the turn of the 20th century, and unlike in BA, they have been wonderfully preserved and painted in traditional colors of olive green, beige and subtle pinks. when we arrived, the streets were empty because of the intense heat (35 degrees at 6PM anyone?), but little by little shutters opened and cars from the 70's started to show. in the calming heat of the evening, we ventured towards the town Plaza Arellano (pronounced arejano).
and then we were under attack.
from out of nowhere, water balloons were aimed at us from all directions from the Lost Boys of the Eve, and looking around, we saw the remnants of the siege and many others' ill fate lying in the streets, bullets of bright rainbow colors, lying exploded on the pavements, with the water splattered violently over the buildings.
once escaped, we managed to get to the Plaza, a dream of calm and green, and proceeded to make our way to the Rio; there, we found the citizens of SA de A adorning the banks of a beautiful river glittering in the evening sunshine as kids daringly jumped in. there is the absolute incessant beat of latino music in the air EVERYWHERE here, if you listen carefully enough, and here was no exception, along with youth and aged alike basking in the shade, patiently sipping at their maté before dinner.
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Julia Elena Paolucci
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