To be Argentine

Just taking a moment to appreciate the awesomeness of Nick Cave. If Heidi were still around, she’d tell me that he was Australian. Therefore Australia is as awesome as Nick Cave. Obvi-po. But let’s not head off on tangents before we even get started.
Speaking of countries that begin with A and things that make them awesome, I think truly the most Argentine thing I’ve done so far is head to La Rural. La Rural is like every county fair you’ve been to with really, really large tractors. Aside from their tractors, La Rural celebrates everything else from the Pampas and really anywhere outside of Buenos Aires. There are cows, chickens, pigs, artesanal foods, bulls, horses, turkeys, goats, and gauchos and more tractors, just to give you a sampling of some of the amazing things we came across.
La Rural is crawling with people. Everyone goes: parents, kids, preppies, grunge kids, hipsters, there is no one you will not run into. It’s like the entire country comes together in Buenos Aires to celebrate the less chic, homey-er aspects of Argentina, which is so strange when BsAs prides itself on its culture and fashionista reputation. It’s kind of nice to see a bunch of people who come together to celebrate each other, even though their lives can be so completely different.
La Rural is like a theme park for the country. Inside, not only will you find the crowds (and the lines -- dude, people line up for their specialty dulce de leche), but there shops that sell “gaucho” clothing (we’ll get into that in a minute). There was one American Apparel type set up, except instead of American Apparel it was definitely sporting the farm-wear aesthetic. The small concession stands sell alfajores (imagine an ice cream sandwich with dulce de leche instead of ice cream), milenesas (hotdogs), hamburguesa completas (self-explanatory), and café. As a side note, this is not Nescafé, which their Chilean neighbors would offer. No, this is really coffee, espresso machine coffee. On these rickety tables they will pull out a heavy duty espresso machine to offer the quality you deserve in a decent cup of espresso. With the selection of meats at these stands, you can only imagine why the animals at La Rural look none to happy.
But the real attraction of La Rural (I think) are the gauchos themselves. It’s like you’ve stepped into a different universe, a different time period. They wear these sort of newsboy-caps that appear to come in burgundy, navy and black. Then, they wear these hardcore, almost motorcycle, leather jackets, although they ride horses, not motorcycles. The jackets cover flow-y white shirts. Then, they wear something that must be like typical horseman pants, only I don’t know anything about that so they just like strange parachute pants to me. The gauchos sit in the stables, tending to their horses, drinking maté, and chatting with each other. Truthfully, it’s a little intimidating. Also, aside from the fully grown gauchos, there are the minigauchos, who look much, much younger, but may just be my age. When the gauchos aren’t drinking mate and simply looking badass, I think they just ride their horses around in circles and are commended for their technique and such. But like I said, I don’t really know about these things.
In the multitudes of other news I failed to report, I turned 22, saw Bright Eyes, went to Uruguay, got my haircut, am living with an Italian man named Fabio who likes to cook, went to a puerta cerrada restaurant, headed to my first milonga, had a mini PA reunion, went to the most amazing jazz club last night, started class and have spent the majority of my time with folks of the European persuasion. All in all, it’s been quite lovely. Hopefully, these will be more frequent now. ¡Ciao amantes!