Living in Neverland: Second Time's the Charm

me and Polly cheesin'

“You have 15 minutes to drop your bags and change if you want to join in for polo.” “Ok, I only need 5!” And just like that, I was back in the world of Los Potreros. Driving to the estancia with Kevin was a surreal experience. I couldn’t tell if I had gone back in time and was arriving for my guide experience, or if I really had managed to return to my Argentine home. It’s all a bit of a blur, but I think that I asked at least one hundred questions about him and Lou, the horses, the dogs, the staff, and the new guides. As we approached the first gate – ughhh, I almost forgot about the ten gates leading to the estancia – I grew giddy in anticipation of seeing my friends and getting to ride these amazing horses.

me and Rubia; LOVE HER!!!

Hurricane B

As we bounced down the dirt track leading to the estancia, we crossed paths with some of the guides and guests bringing horses down to the polo field. Like a total fool, I leaned the upper half of my body out of the car window and flailed around, trying to channel my excitement into the biggest wave possible! I hadn’t gotten to see B and Polly – two of my favorite people who I worked with previously – in nearly a year, and the sight of them trotting down the road with B in the lead underneath her baby blue polo helmet, along with the beautifully groomed, immaculately tacked, prancing horses, broke down any semblance of self-control and dignity that I had left. Thus, the world’s biggest wave and goofiest smile from the idiot (me) hanging out of the car window.

too much happiness!

Less than 30 minutes later, I had joined them on the polo grounds and Polly and I dramatically ran across the field to hug each other; we had seen each other just two days ago in Cordoba, but the scene still deserved to be played in slow motion with a cheesy soundtrack to match. Slightly more cautiously, since she was on a horse, I ran over to B and gave her a massive hug. Ever the manager and polo enthusiast, B asked Polly to bring me a horse and instructed me to find a mallet so that I could get “warmed up” for the match. (There is no warm up in the world that can prepare me for polo; I have plateaued with my polo skills.haha) So, within barely an hour of arriving at the estancia, I found myself frolicking around the polo field attempting to track down the tiny white ball, be helpful to my team, and not accidentally hit my horse. I managed a few decent backwards shots, but overall was largely useless to my team, who remained encouraging throughout the match. Although unexpected and a bit overwhelming at first, this was absolutely the most amazing way to be welcomed back to the estancia.

just outside the church on the day of the Virgin Mary

The next day we all got to witness a unique event in the outskirts of Rio Ceballos: the Parade of the Virgin Mary. The local church near the estancia is only opened once a year, February 2^nd, in order to celebrate the Virgin Mary. In the morning, the massive doors of the church are propped open, welcoming anyone who would like to come inside to worship in the exquisite church. Massive vaulted ceilings, an unbelievably ornate alter, and several small golden details make this church an absolute gem tucked in the foothills of gaucho country. Following the ceremony, even more people showed up on horseback and by car to watch the parade of the Virgin Mary. (for more gaucho pictures, scroll to the bottom of this page)

When we arrived, we tied our horses off to the side on low-hanging limbs, and wandered around envying the gorgeous horses and handmade tack that adorned them. Everywhere you looked, traditionally dressed gauchos were milling about. It was clear that everyone was waiting for something, but we were not entirely sure what that was. I quickly found out. As I was kneeling in the grass taking pictures, my lens suddenly filled with nothing but horse hooves…I was kneeling right in the parade route! While I was lost in photo world, the gauchos had mounted their horses and assembled into a never-ending line, led by three gauchos on horseback, one of which was carrying an intricately carved silver cross, and the other two flags which came to life with the cool breeze. Immediately behind them, four men were shouldering a platform on which a regal statue of the Virgin Mary was lifted above the crowds. It was a perfect day: bright blue skies with a scattering of cotton candy clouds, and the Virgin Mary created a distinct silhouette against this backdrop.

For the next 45 minutes or so, I darted from one vantage point to another, trying to make the most of seeing the gauchos in all their finery. My envy of the horses and their tack quickly extended to the gauchos and their beautiful rawhide belts, alpaca buckles, and colorful panuellas (wild rags/scarves). The parade was open to any locals that wanted to participate, no age requirements or gender exclusions. We saw infants being held in the saddle by their parents. We saw 3 foot tall children proudly mounted on 5 foot tall horses. Old men had dusted off their saddles to take part. Women of all ages proudly demonstrated their roles in the gaucho culture. Horses, ponies, donkeys, and mules all held their heads high as they proudly paraded by. Throughout the event, gauchos kept assembling, as if being born from the hills themselves. The parade ended with everyone crowded around the front of the church as a hymn was sung, prayers said, and the bells tolled to commemorate the special day. We at the estancia ended the day by having a picnic at the local school followed by a peaceful ride home, with a few really great canters along the way :)

The rest of my time at the estancia was spent riding horses, overindulging in delicious foods, and pretending to be a guide so that I could sneak into the kitchen to hang out with the current guides and trade stories about the estancia and its guests. Although I was a guest this time and thoroughly enjoyed the royal treatment, I was most at ease when surrounded by other adventurous individuals drinking coffee around the scarred wooden table in the kitchen, as the chefs prepared meals and added to the conversation. Unlike last year, this go round I was actually able to have decent conversations with the gauchos, as well. Last year I was awkward and embarrassed and refrained from speaking except when necessary. However, this year, the familiarity with these men gave me the confidence to test out my rusty Spanish skills and actually have decent conversations. Much to my surprise, I actually understood most of what they were saying, and they shockingly could interpret my broken Spanish. Being able to communicate with the gauchos without exhausting my brain, further enhanced my stay at Los Potreros, and made it that much harder when it came time to leave.

beautiful Millie

Two years ago, I never would have thought that coming to Argentina would feel like coming home. However, when I left Estancia Los Potreros in Cordoba, Argentina, last year, I was infinitely more upset than I had anticipated and felt like a piece of me had remained behind in those serene hills. For the past week, I had the opportunity to rejoin with that lost piece, as I returned to my Argentine home: Estancia Los Potreros. Although this time was a completely different experience it remained an especially wonderful one, made even better by getting to hang out with my favorite people from last year, Polly Patridge, Hurricane B, and Sam. Seeing Kevin and Lou was pretty great, too – truly, thank you both so so much for allowing me to return to your little piece of heaven. It would have been absolutely perfect, if only I could have bought a Los Pots ball cap ;)