San Juan, Argentina - New Year 2006 (by Ray)
Having spent Christmas in the tiny village of Huacalera in the north west of Argentina, we decided to head off to the even tinier village of Iruya for New Year. Not that we wanted a quiet New Year, but we had read that this village was situated within fantastic mountain landscapes, and even offered us the possibility of some interesting treks. Buses are a common feature in our travels, and so it was on a surprisingly sturdy Mercedes bus that we set off for Iruya. The journey was different in that we travelled over 3 hours by "ripio road" (very rough dirt track), climbing to 4,000 metres altitude by way of the Abra del Condor pass before descending steeply, around many hairpin bends, into the Quebrada del Iruya at 2,600 metres altitude.
The hamlet of Iruya is a real mountain hideaway. Here there are no level surfaces and any walk involves a steep climb - and the subsequent shortness of breath as we toiled with the thinner air. Not so much a difficulty at this level, but later, the treks to just over 4,000 metres had us gulping for air!
So, we wanted a trek! The nice lady at the tourist information recommended that we may want to go to a tiny hamlet called San Juan, about 16km on foot with a guide, and stay overnight with the guide´s family. She also made some intriguing statements like, "...i)a guide is absolutely necessary, otherwise you will get lost; ii)the guide is simply that....a guide. No other services offered; iii)there is no electricity, gas or other services at San Juan. Just a water pipe; iv)there will be a New Year party at Hugo´s House.
That was it. A Hogmanay trek and a New Year party. Sold!
We met our guide, Gregorio, or GPS (Gregorio Positioning System), the following morning in the centre of Iruya. There me and Gill stood with our rucksacks filled with all the required palava for a high-level "extreme" trek over the high passes, and yes, of course, there was Gregorio with his big red woolly poncho and old holey boots. No socks, no waterproofs. Strangely, prior to leaving, when the rain started to come down heavily, he ran to his digs in Iruya and returned with a bag of lettuce.
Down came the rain and out came Gill´s super-vinyl-green-poncho. A most impressive garment which proved so watertight that she has promised to wear it back in the Scottish hills. Ray fetched out his super-polythene-transparent-bag, the most impressive feature of which was to make very loud rustling noises in the wind. Gregorio whipped his big red woolly poncho over his shoulders and seemed the most comfortable of us all in the wet and windy conditions.
Climbing high over Iruya, the multi-coloured mountains were awe inspiring: reds, browns, greens, yellows, purples and blues; all the colours produced from the minerals present in the rocks, e.g. copper, zinc, iron, to name but a few. We stood looking at these mountains throughout the day and agreed that these were the most impressive mountain views we had seen in Argentina. Admittedly not the highest mountains in this part of the world, but certainly the most colourful.
The route to San Juan obviously followed a well-trodden path used by the locals. However, the zig-zagging and multiple-choice of paths would have made finding the correct route impossible without our own Argentinian brand of GPS. After almost 7 hours of plodding, we caught our first glimpse of the promised hamlet in the distance. During this time, we also watched with half-amusement (but also pity), as a local attempted to make his mule move along the path. The animal simply refused to cooperate. Certainly, as we watched the man poke and hit the mule with a stick, we knew whose side we were on. We caught sight of the man and his mule several hours later as they entered San Juan, the mule taking a few reluctant steps for every poke of the stick.
To the House of Gregorio: where we met with his wife and two daughters. The house consisted of several stone buildings; the main building functioning as combined living and sleeping area; a small kitchen (no Aga here, just a wood-burning fire); an aim-and-fire toilet (chuck a pan of water down the hole to flush); a store-building; and a corn-grinding room. All the buildings faced onto a mud-surfaced courtyard, where three dogs, a cat, a lamb and a chicken roamed freely. Gregorio´s main role is as a small-hold farmer, growing maize, potatoes and other vegetables, but also subsidises his income by guiding. Later that afternoon, he accompanied us across the river to have a look around the main hamlet, where later that night the party was to take place at Hugo´s house.
All ninety inhabitants of San Juan were reportedly to be at the party. So, a feast needed to be prepared and everyone was expected to contribute something. Our household was on Empanada duty (small pastries filled with meat, cheese or vegetables - and yes, they could give Greggs a run for their money!). We offered to give a hand in the pie preparation, and although first reluctant (maybe the family had heard of the ingredients of Scotch Pies), they at last handed us a blunt knife and told us to get on with the chopping of onions and spring onions; peeling of boiled eggs; and the mincing of the meat. The meat was fetched from a basket hanging from the ceiling (at first we thought the spare ribs hanging on the wall above one of the beds would be used) and Gill dutifully hacked at it with the oh-so-blunt knife, while Gregorio fed it into the wee red mincer.
Pastry was prepared, then all assisted with the rolling and filling of the pastry pockets to produce the final product - the Empanada. This pie-athon took almost four hours and most of it carried out under candle-light while listening to the most modern appliance in the house - an old radio - which was tuned into the Argentinian equivalent of the Jimmy Shand New Year Show. Everyone in the household was humming along to the Andean melodies while crimping Empanadas.
So by 2200hrs, we were Empanadad-Out and ready for a party. But first, of course, .......to the church!! Back down to the river, across the river (by stepping-stones), up the steep hill on the other side, along 400mm wide paths with 200 metre drops back down to the river, all under torchlight. 30 minutes later we arrived at the packed San Juan church (well, packed means about 50 people at most, mainly woman and children. Where are the men then you ask??). There was no priest, so a lay-person led the strictly Roman Catholic service. Not too dissimilar to what you will hear in other parts of the Catholic world, but with a difference. At the end of the service, our Gregorio grabs a drum (he is obviously multi-talented) and starts beating out a distinctly primitive rhythm. The children group into five sets of two and spend the next 40 minutes skipping a sequence of dances that on later questioning, Gregorio is unable to explain the origin of. Interestingly, each of the sequences involved the children skipping towards and away from the altar, but never turning their backs to the altar. Later, the children would each act as a bull, attacking each of the congregation in turn, only to be captured by the rest of the dancing children. All very intriguing.
At 2350 hrs, the ever-increasingly talented Gregorio cast aside his drum and rushed from the church. Where was he off to? A few minutes later, as everyone jumped out of their skins, we understood that Gregorio also had the responsibility of letting off the San Juan New Year Bomb, to announce to all that 2006 had arrived. But, by our watches it was about 8 minutes too early! No matter, at this signal everone congratulated one anothe with "Felice nuevo ano........". Me and Gill even received a few kisses from the locals!
Then it was finally off to Hugo´s house. Up, up and up the hill we went. Me and Gill had our official New Year congratulations on another particularly narrow and dark area of the path. Memorable! At Hugo´s house, many people were standing around outside, but not a lot was actually happening. Not until 0045 hrs did the venerable Hugo appear and give his New Year´s speech, which we think consisted of encouraging everone to eat, drink and be merry. Here we noticed that the male absentees from the church didn´t actually need Hugo´s encouragement to be merry! They had obviously been at the local vino for most of the day! So, we ate, we drank and later watched and listened to some fascinating dances and songs performed specially by and about the residents of San Juan. Men and women in a circle, drums beating out a simple beat, and everyone chanting phrases such as, ".....here in our little village of San Juan, we don´t always have water...here in San Juan some day will come the water.....when I am away from San Juan I feel sick so I have to return...." - all in an indigenous language, ie not in Spanish, so we had to get Gregorio to translate later.
San Juan was also without any beds for us. As we arrived back at our host´s house (without Gregorio), it became clear that Gregorio had neglected to tell his wife we were staying over. So we made do with a blanket on top of the stone floor. The rest of the family hopped into the beds fully clothed, mother and daughter sharing a rickety old single bed.
And so at 7am, in walks our Gregorio. He´s had a good New Year. He´s also back up and ready to go at 0930, as he guides us on the 2nd stage of our trek. Wouldn´t you know it? The weak and puny gringos actually coped pretty well at 4,000 metres altitude, compared to the strong and acclimatised local!
Happy New Year everyone!!
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