DAY 9
I was hoping to do some riding in Torres del Paine. My new friend Victor suggested los baqueanos (the cowboys) who lived and worked about a two hour drive away. He had given me a hefty care package of food for his buddies, so when I showed up at the farm with no one there I felt obligated to wait for their return. Fortunately there was an exquisite resort nearby, with an extremely kind manager who was sympathetic to my predicament; it is there I passed the time. About 4 hours later, los baqueanos returned. They had just spent a long day tagging untold numbers of sheep, and entertaining a stranger did not seem to be foremost in their desires. But they welcomed me into their home and asked me in Spanish, “Where are you from?” The fact that a woman traveling alone from New York City happened upon their doorstep, as a friend of a friend, elicited no further questions. The home contained a wood burning stove to keep them warm, cook the meals and keep a kettle of water hot for their maté. Their attire spoke of a long tradition: beret, boots, baggy pants, neck scarf and three belts. One belt, closest to the body, was worn for the usual reasons, the second, a long band of woven cloth was wrapped around the waist several times and held a knife, the outermost belt was for ornamentation, wide and handcrafted with leather and silver. Every inch of them exuded machismo. Yet they were completely enthralled by a sappy romantic soap opera on TV. We sat in the living room/kitchen eating a simple, but tasty-for me, thanksgiving dinner- meal of meat and pasta. Their horses, dogs, and cat were not far from the door, and neither were the hawks, condors, rheas, rabbits, sheep and guanacos.
I left shortly after dinner to set up my tent outback and left them sipping their tea. Riding would have to wait until the following day. The stars filled the sky. I slept well.