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Condors, Polo and the end of the school year...
What do condors and polo have in common? They both stand out as highlights in the story of our last few weeks and they both gave us plenty of practice in what we have discovered to be the Argentine national pastime -- waiting. The month of November flew by without us realizing it. It seems clear from our various struggles that we have reached the predictable emotional valley on a journey such as the one we are on. There were some challenging school groups that left David exhausted from the effort of simply trying to get the students to stop chattering long enough to absorb some of what La Lucena has to offer. Fortunately, the joy of the last two groups brought back his zest for teaching. Lise battled with her desire to hide in the casa all day and give up trying to work on her Spanish with real people, finding Harry Potter y la Piedra Filosifal more to her liking. Tremayne gave in to that same desire and cut out on his last week at school, spending his time rereading his Harry Potter books in English. Colby seemed to be the most stalwart of us all, although he still occasionally sighs and comments how much he misses home. All of us are looking forward to stepping out of our doldrums as we head off to travel in Patagonia for the month of December. The new scenery and new challenges should invigorate us for when we return to La Pampa for the new year and the second half of our stay here.

PARQUE NACIONAL QUEBRADA DEL CONDORITO Our two day jaunt up into the Sierra Grandes in the middle of November turned out to be quite memorable. Although we traveled only a few hundred kilometers to the other side of Cordoba Province, there was something about the remoteness and the wild landscape that thrilled us. For months we had been telling students that the weather-beaten Sierras are far more ancient than the more imposing Andes, and here, finally, we actually felt it. As we gained altitude, the scrubby thorn forest gave way to stiff stalked grassland which barely hid the gnarled and battered topography. The bus dropped us off along the side of the winding mountain road and we walked several kilometers along a smaller dirt road to reach the entrance of this new national park of the condor canyon. The road and the visitor center seemed to be built to accommodate large numbers of travelers, but we were 4 of the only 8 people that were in the park that day. A misty fog enveloped us as we set up our tent in a shallow bowl in the rocky terrain and built two stone cairns to watch over our lonely campsite. The clouds lifted briefly as the sun set, and from a nearby ridge we could see the parallel ridge of the Sierra Chicas where we had come from earlier that day. But La Pampa seemed very far away and we felt we were in a totally refreshing new world here. The new moon rose into a clear sky as Lise and David started the night out under the stars, being driven into the tent with the boys when a sleety wind picked up before the moon set. We awoke to ice and grauple on the gear and shoes we had left outside. At two thousand meters, spring still holds some cold surprises. As the sun slowly warmed the early morning air, we hiked to the 800 meter deep gorge that the condors use as a training ground for teaching their youngsters the fine art of soaring and catching updrafts. Small begging birds kept us company as we settled in to await a sighting of this classic species of South America, the largest flighted bird in the world. Sooner than we expected, we noticed a huge dark shape across the chasm swoop down into the abyss and reappear right in front of our perch on the edge of the cliff. It glided over our heads, close enough for us to see it cock its white collared neck and peer down at us inquisitively. We looked up in awe as its 10 foot wide shadow passed over us. For most of the rest of the day we sat on the cliff edge, waiting for another close encounter. Although we saw more than a dozen more mature and immature condors as well as countless black and turkey vultures and an assortment of hawks and eagles, nothing quite matched the experience of directly meeting the eye of that first curious condor. When our food ran out, we headed back across the pampas, breathing deeply the air and the ambiance. We hiked more than 25 kilometers in those two days, much of it with a hodge-podge of ill-packed gear, but we returned to our home in the Sierra Chicas energetic and inspired by the splendor of ancient mountains and the primeval birds that soar in their valleys.

POMPEYO POLO OF LA PAMPA AND PROPANE Here in La Pampa, smartly dressed, swarthy young men riding sleek long-legged polo ponies are a common sight along the dirt roads through town. Sometimes a dozen or more horses will be tied together and run along behind a chico on another horse, either excercising them or simply moving them to a new pasture. The polo grounds and breeding farms are major employers in the area (along with the golf courses.) But we had yet to see a polo match until this month when Zule alerted us to a November tournament weekend, although Mike advised us to take along a book to stave off boredom. Undaunted by his warning, we set off down the road to the polo grounds on Sunday, supposedly the best day to go. Crowds of people were milling around, herds of horses were grazing on the edges of the fields, but nobody seemed to know when or in which field the next match was going to be played. Hours passed. Eventually we spotted a referee, and then some uniformed riders and horses, and we managed to catch one game before we called it a day. Nobody but us seemed perturbed by the delays and disorganization. With all our free time, we did some indepth analyzing of the Argentine character that is so willing to wait for things to happen and so unsurprised if things don't happen at all. In the US, people simply wouldn't tolerate it. We used to think it was just our ignorance or lack of language skills that kept us confused and guessing about what was going on. But over time, we have realized that nobody really knows and nobody expects to know. There was a gas crisis this month due to a transportation strike. There was no propane available anywhere and nobody knew when it would be available again. Peter's response was typically Argentine when he stated, "We can't let a little thing like this stop us." The La Lucena tanks were empty, but life went on. The gas water heater in the shower house was converted to wood heat and the cooks shifted the menu to use the wood fired oven. It was all a bit of a nuisance, but nothing to panic about. Practice and character have given the Argentines a flexibility that serves them well now and will be helpful in a future of unreliable resources.

SUMMER VACATION The boys' school year has ended. The last school group at La Lucena is gone, but not before Colby raked in 450 pesos selling his bracelets at the gift shop. Our little entrepreneur uses his time well, multi-tasking at school all week weaving his little bracelets and then guaranteeing sales by his devoted efforts during the La Lucena program. Tremayne was coaxed out of his bedroom cave by a dozen eager girls who were infatuated with his mysterious presence, and their attention convinced him to join in on the last days of La Lucena. We said good-bye to Mike, who is returning to Minnesota along with Zule, at a 10 o'clock pizza party and midnight bowling, arriving home at 3am. Argentine late night meals and entertainment are something we still have not adjusted to. Violent storms continue to rumble through the Sierras, one dropping over 80mm (3+ inches) in one hour and washing a wall of water right through La Lucena's buildings and flooding our kitchen through the patio door! On December 4th we head out for a month long trip through Patagonia. We have hopes to see penguins and whales, glaciers and mountains, but we know better than to make too many firm plans. We will see what comes our way and try to make the best of it.