GLUTTED ON MEAT

roboloco
graciela holds harmonica

TOLHUIN: SATURDAY, AUGUST 25
We sit on solid benches at a solid table in the shorefront window of the log cabin. An enormous wood stove warms us. As does red wine. The ex-future is a great barbecue cook. We snack on a sausage or two. Then we eat meat. We eat more meat. Then we seriously eat meat. First comes the thin end of the skirt. Then the middle thickness. Finally the thick end. Finally? A steer has two skirts. We recommence at the thin end of the second skirt…
Roboloco is with us.
Glutted, we drink a little more red wine and listen to Robo’s guitar, his harmonica and his patter. He is a natural entertainer. He knows all the party tricks and performs them with brilliant elan. The ex-future’s daughter is in heaven as he pulls his mouth askew with a long black hair plucked from Luisa’s head.
And I am in heaven for an old man with a broken foot. I am amongst friends who will remain friends for life. Robo presents me with a copy of his book recounting the pedallo marathon. The gang add signatures and comments to the front page. I lie in bed and listen to three sets of gentle snores and worry that the crutches will slip on the tiles when I make the next trip to the bathroom. Getting up in the night is an old man’s complaint…

LAGO FAGNANO

log cabin canasta club

TOLHUIN: SATURDAY, AUGUST 25
The town of Tolhuin is known as the heart of Tierra del Fuego. It occupies a rise at the head of Lake Fagnano and lies in the mountains midway between Rio Grande and Ushuaia. Virgin forest encloses the town and much of the population work at the timber mill. Others are employed in tourism. Roboloco owns four cabins and a campsite down on the lakefront. An ablutions block with hot and cold showers and clean lavatories serves the campsite. A commedor near by caters for those who don’t cook. For those who do cook, there are heaps of firewood and huge barbecues. The view down the lake is superb. Snow caps rise above dark forest while the light continually changes on the lake as does the colour of the water, dark blue, light blue, slate grey, pale smoky grey. Birds of prey spiral leisurely overhead. A pair of duck fly by and skid into land, feet splayed, on the dark, silky-surfaced lagoon that lies behind the strip of paddocks along the foreshore. Graciela and Luisa are playing cards in the cabin. I am outdoors in my wheelchair. Graciela has wrapped me in a grey blanket. The ex-future is tending a mountain of meat behind me while his daughter plays a complicated game with small dolls. A continual swell breaks and sucks at the pebble beach. The blanket makes me feel old. I am old. Tough shit!

ROBOLOCO

TOLHUIN: SATURDAY, AUGUST 25
I travel by pizza delivery bike. I have been accused of lunacy. Good!
Graciela, the ex-future and his daughter (6), Schoolteacher Luisa and I spend the weekend in a beachfront cabin on Lake Fagnano. Our host is a serial lunatic. As a teenager he rode a 50cc mobillette from Buenos Aires to Ushuaia: 3000 kilometres. Aged forty, he pedalled a pedalo the circumference of Lake Fagnano. Picture the lake. It fills a narrow trench in the mountains and is 117 kilometres long. It runs west to east. The prevailing wind blast from west to east. The weather changes in minutes, dead calm to a gale, bright sunshine to driving snow. Ten-foot waves smash onto pebble beaches. This is no place for a pedalo. Little wonder that Roberto Daniel Berbel is known locally as Roboloco.

MENACE IN THE FOREST

RIO GRANDE: FRIDAY, AUGUST 24
We are going away for the weekend. Graciela has rented a cabin in the forest. The forest is inhabited by wolves and bear and mountain lions and packs of wild savage dogs. I will sleep seated in my chair facing the cabin door with a shotgun in my lap.
Or we will confront vast quantities of meat on the grill and I will inhale vast quantities of second-hand cigarette smoke.
Which is most dangerous?
Pepe states that Tierra del Fuego stock trek vast distances in search of fodder: the meat is cholesterol free.
Pepe raises cattle and sheep on a 17000-hectare estancia.
Should I believe him?

TOWARDS FREEDOM

RIO GRANDE: FRIDAY, AUGUST 24
Pepe believes the bone is heeling. Xrays delay the heeling. For now he will leave the cast as it is. In ten days he will split the cast and make a further inspection. The cast will be replaceable. Take it off and I can bathe myself. Put it on and I can put some weight on the foot. I can travel. I must cut my possessions to a minimum. I must make a list. First I must be able to carry my crutches on the chair.

HEY, MY LOVELY, CARE FOR A RIDE?

RIO GRANDE: THURSDAY, AUGUST 22
I am mobile. Pepe had brought a wheelchair. It is a 2008 model drophead sports-coupé of a chair. I do spins. I weave between the tables in the hotel lounge. I make for the kitchen. The wooden doorsill is vertical barrier one centimetre in height. Buff! I back up and attack the sill at speed. Double Buff!
Pepe watches contemptuously.
The art is to lean back on the approach, then forward as you touch the sill – so Pepe instructs me.
I try. Further failure.
I reach for my crutches. More failure - I am trapped by the footrests.
This chair is a deluxe model. It offers many options. I must study the mechanics.

A NEED TO FORGET

RIO GRANDE: WEDNESDAY, AUGUST, 22
I am in position, back to the iron rage. A mini cab driver sits opposite at the kitchen table and sips mate.
He is in his fifties. He is from the north. He and his wife have been in Tierra del Fuego for three weeks. She works in a shop. He drives from 7 in the evening to 7 in the morning. Back home there is no work for fifty-year-olds. They had a good life before the crisis of 2001/2. They owned a small house in town and a weekend cottage. Their children expected to attend university. The crash came and the good life ended. In those two years only the rich survived, those with hoarded capital hidden abroad. I travelled through Argentina for six weeks last year. Now I have been here for more than a month. Never have I overheard people talk of those years.
I mention this to three women.
"We want to forget," answers one.
"Yes, we want to forget," agrees the second.
Silence apart from the suck of tin straws in mate…The third says, "There is so much that we wish to forget."

KICKED BY A DOCTOR

RIO GRANDE: WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 22
Pepe drops by. He has had a haircut. The result resembles Tierra del Fuego’s pastures: short and blown tufty by the wind.
Pepe asks if my ankle hurts.
How to differentiate between ache and pain?
Pepe believes in direct action. He wears work boots. He swings his artificial leg and hacks the underside of my foot. "Does that hurt?"
"No."
He raps me on the ankle. "Does that hurt?"
"No."
"Good," he says.
I say, "Sometimes it aches in the night."
"Of course it does," says Pepe. "It rests against hard plaster."
I feel foolish. "Right," I say.

GUILTY OF THOUGHT CRIME

RIO GRANDE: TUESDAY, AUGUST 21
I have been sitting in the kitchen, back to a warm old cast-iron range. Fellow residents drop scraps of information. X tells of his father, a writer arrested during the military dictatorship and condemned to ten years in jail. Police ransacked the family home once or twice a month, turned everything upside down, deliberately imprinted their prisoner’s children with fear. At the change of Government, the father was released under amnesty.
X is a close friend of Graciela. They have known each other for years. Graciela learns from me of his father’s arrest.

FACADE

three sages
javier, fernando & me

RIO GRANDE: TUESDAY, AUGUST 21
I have been skimming Thorn Tree, the message board for travellers sponsored by Lonely Planet. Many young travellers seek a beach to hang out on with other young travellers, some place cheaper than back home. I wonder what they learn of the countries through which they travel. What do they learn of the people?
Argentina is a favourite of young travellers. They trek the national parks, admire the forests, mountains and glaciers, enjoy the laughter and party spirit of the people.
What they experience is a façade.

DUMB GENERALISATIONS

RIO GRANDE: MONDAY, AUGUST 21
Each hour I lie on my bed and do leg lifts. Today I achieve three consecutive series of thirty lifts. While exercising, I cogitate on a piece I have been asked to consider on the difference between young travellers and us oldies. Here is one quick generalisation. Young travellers journey alone by day and gather in the evening to swap war stories. Oldies enjoy exploring in a group with a knowledgeable guide by day and separate in the evening into couples and foursomes

ILLICIT ENRICHMENT

Argentine snack

RIO GRANDE, SUNDAY, AUGUST 19
Have I made the right decision? Time will tell. Meanwhile I am invited to Sunday lunch by the ex-future novio. Javier drives. We eat in the carport. Warm weather tyres fills one corner by the doors, bits of machinery, planks, kindling, logs. The wood grill runs the full width of the back wall. The long table is loaded with meat: beef, blood sausage, ordinary sausage.
Fellow guests are the Sunday gang. The pregnant grandmother spends the first hour indoors preparing salads: one of Brussel sprouts in olive oil, the other of eggplants and onion, also in oil.
Conversation centres on the previous Governor. He bought votes by creating 7000 non-existent jobs for his supporters. Now he, his wife and brother-in-law are charged with illicit enrichment and the Province must beg funds from Central Government.

MUM, DO YOU HAVE A MINUTE?

mum and son

RIO GRANDE:

FRIDAY, AGUGUST 17
I drink my morning coffee and watch Graciela watch her younger son complete an application form at the kitchen table. For Graciela this is a rare moment of relaxation. She is content to watch and love. Then, maternal, she points to an empty box on the form that requires a date.
I might be watching Bernadette and our eldest boy back home.
At what age do sons stop bringing home their application forms for Mum’s advice?
And do Mums ever have sufficient energy to stay awake during the showing of a DVD?
Bernadette and I have been together for nearly thirty years. I don't recall Bernadette ever staying awake through an entire film.

Graciela slept through three showings of The Last King Of Scotland earlier in the week. Last night she nodded off to Apocalypto.

PHLEGMATIC BRIT

pepe sculpting

RIO GRANDE:

THURSDAY, AUGUST 16

I have chosen the limp. Pepe adds that I will sense the approach of rain in the joint. The plaster requires two full days to dry. Once dry, I can rest the heel on the ground, though not put weight on the foot. Balancing will be easier. Pepe says I can travel in less than four weeks, more than three weeks. By Monday I can go for drives, visit the country. He will get me a wheelchair.
I have occupied the spare bed in Graciela’s bedroom for ten days. A further three weeks is too great an imposition. Pepe and I speak English together. I tell him that I must find somewhere to stay.
He translates for Graciela.
Graciela says, "Why do you want to make my life more difficult? In my room, you are convenient for me."
I try to express my thanks.
Pepe squeezes my hand. "Simon, it is impolite to thank friends."

I find that I am weeping.
So much for the phlegmatic Brit…

DILEMMA

RIO GRANDE:
THURSDAY, AUGUST 16
Pepe arrives from his estancia to build a new cast, more of a boot with a wooden arch support and rubber heel. He drives me to the hospital in his truck and wheels me to the orthopaedic unit. Doctor Lopez is the Consultant. The two men examine the latest x-rays. A minute shift of the bone is evident. Lopez advocates screw and wire, a full cast for three months and a further month of rehab. Pepe argues that I am 74, that I don’t have four months. That keeping me immobile is a recipe for disaster.
The decision is mine.
I am not good at decisions.
My wife, Bernadette, is the other side of the world.
Graciela hasn’t come to the hospital. She knew there would be an argument. Both doctors are friends.
Pepe drops me back at the hotel. He will return in the afternoon.
Time for thought.
I suspect that Dr Lopez’ solution would be medically perfect.
Pepe is less interested in perfection. He lost his right leg from above the knee in a bike crash. He suffered a stroke and lost some of the feeling in his right hand and can no longer operate. He can run a large estancia, ride his Triumph 750 or a horse. He has rehabilitated himself and has a medical practice specialising in long term rehabilitation. He is closer to my age than Lopez, suffers from the same impatience with his own physical frailties and is an expert on living life to the full.
Take his route and I may limp a little. However I will complete this journey.
Chose the screw and wire and what do I risk? An old man’s shuffle instead of a limp and no book…
I talk with Graciela. She agrees.

PARTY TIME AT THE HOTEL ARGENTINO

javier - front right

vaguely inebriated

RIO GRANDE:

WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 15
Javier, the oil driller, is barbecuing a few dozen chickens in the yard - party time at the Hotel Argentino. We are celebrating the arrival of two Spanish pedal bikers from Valencia. The bikers have ridden from Buenos Aires via Bariloche, Monson and Calfate, then across into Chile and back via Porvenir to Rio Grande. Tomorrow they will head for Ushuaia. One is a salesman, early forties, handsome, voluble, lots of charm. The forty-day bike ride makes a great tale for his customers and will boost sales. The second biker is younger by ten years, an odd job man in the modern sense: basic electrician, basic plumber, painter and decorator, simple carpentry. He is the more thoughtful of the two and talks little. The Spaniards complain of ruthless Argentine truck drivers, of being forced off the road. I prefer a different image: the kindly driver who held me in his arms and called me brother.
My neighbour at table eats two full chickens. I drink more than one glass of red wine.
The Spaniards party to 5 a.m. They are on the road at seven. Such men were the Conquistadors…

CRASH CURE

RIO GRANDE: WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 15
These are facts. I suffered back pain throughout the three months prior to leaving the UK and in my first weeks in the Argentine. I received four treatments from an excellent osteopath and two treatments from a sports therapist. The pain continued.
I get hit by three trucks and the pain ends. Eight days have passed since the crash. I feel confident in writing of a cure. I suspect this cure is a one-off and am reluctant to include this piece in my weekly column for 50connect.
50connect is a leading web site for mature citizens. Imagine hundreds of back-pain sufferers hobbling into the main highway in search of a curative truck.
Meanwhile Pepe has inspected the new x-rays. I have a date at the hospital tomorrow morning. Pepe will change the cast.

X-RAYS

RIO GRANDE: TUESDAY, AUGUST 14
Graciela is not pleased that I went to the restaurant yesterday. She knows that I took a knock on the foot. She threatens to telephone Bernadette. Meanwhile she takes me to the hospital to have fresh x-rays taken. Going anywhere with Graciela is a kiss-fest. Half the town are friends. The other half long to be.
I sit in the x-ray table while Graciela explains that she cares for me to be rid of me. I am to be more careful. I agree and pay US$5.50 for the x-rays.
A lady doctor examines the picture and reports all well with the ankle. She is not an orthopaedic surgeon. Pepe will give his opinion on Thursday.

ARGENTINES EAT

RIO GRANDE: MONDAY, AUGUST 13
I may have remarked in a previous BLOG on the massive quantity of food Argentines eat, in particular, the vast amount of meat. I escaped at lunchtime. Not far, a mere hop to the corner restaurant. Fernando, Javier, Pepe and Carlos were my guests. Carlos and Javier ordered churasco: a plate-sized chunk of grilled meat surmounted by two fried eggs and piled with thick potato chips. Fernando preferred Milanese: the two slices of breaded meat required folding to fit the plate, two fried eggs and the potato mountain. Pepe and I had the midday special: spaghetti with meat sauce plus a hunk of stewed beef. Add an excellent bottle of red wine and the bill came to US$32.

YELLOW PRESS

RIO GRANDE: MONDAY, AUGUST 12
I long for books. I have been lying in bed and thinking of the vile headlines in the British yellow press during the Falklands/Malvinas war. Much of the British Press is owned by foreigners of very dubious morality. Odd that successive Governments should permit such people to manipulate public opinion.
Murdoch terrified Blair.
Perhaps, Brown, a historian rather than a lawyer, and a child of the manse, will be more courageous. Meanwhile I am cared for with immense kindness by Graciela and her gang.