The Yerba Mate plant belongs to the holly family and grows in Northern Argentina and parts of Paraguay, Uraguay, Bolivia and Brazil. The infusion, called Mate, is made by steeping the dried leaves in hot, but not boiling water. From this is made a type of tea, with an herby, grassy and to some people, bitter flavour.
Mate is a social event. It is shared between friends and family, and as I've learned, with complete strangers as well. The tea is made in a hollow grourd with a metal straw called a bombilla, or pronounced BOM-BI-SHA in Argentina. Unlike regular tea, the leaves are not strained or removed from the rest of the drink. For this reason, the bombilla acts like a filter and doesn't allow the leaves to get sucked up with the rest of the tea. Some like it with sugar to cut the bitterness a bit, others take it plain. You can purchase yerba mate flavoured naturally with things like orange rind or dried peppermint for a different flavour.
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| A little sunset mate. What a gourd-day it was... |
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| Here-ye, here-ye, the amateurs try their hand at a mate circle. I think we fooled them. |
Rules of Sharing Mate:
1. NEVER. EVER. Touch the bombilla (the straw). It is illegal and you will likely be fined by the police. Or just viewed with great suspicion and alarm by those whose company you have now ruined.
2. Don't pass the mate to the person next to you. Pass it back to the person who prepared it and is serving it. Finish all the water in the ground before you pass it back.
3. Don't take a year to finish your turn. The ansy looking guy beside you might snap at any moment if you're yammering on and not finishing your turn. Learned that one.
4. Only say GRACIAS when you're finished. This is a hard one for Canadians who are tempted to say "gracias" upon recieving the gourd, again when passing it back, and likely a "sorry" or "excuse me" somewhere in between just for good measure. Only when you are done and do not desire another turn may you say "gracias."
5. Slurp it up. Again, a social etiquette no-no in Canada is totally fine in this case. In fact, the more you slurp, one could presume, the more you like it.
6. "Unos Mates?" It's a sign of respect to offer someone some mate when you first meet them. When asked how you like it, dulce o amargo (sweetened with sugar or bitter) it is nice to respond with "como vos tomas" ... how you take it.
The tea is so common, people walk around with the gourd in one hand and the thermos of hot water tucked beneath their armpit. The people of this region may well evolve in a crooked position to better allow the holding of these items. The drink is so common here that most bus stations and public places have a hot water thermos filling station.
So the next time you drop by South America and find yourself awkwardly participating in a circle sharing of mate, you can wow the crowd with your expertise.
El Bolson is a hippy refuge and is home to a superbly Wolfville-style farmer's market with great food, funky jewelry, clothing and a lot of dreadlocked heads. It's nestled in a valley surrounded by mountains. The little bunkie has a wood fire and breakfast consists of apples that dropped to the dry earth the night before. This may be one of the most peaceful places I've been. The simplicity of life is found in a pleasant repetition and enjoyment of daily tasks, meaningful encounters with neighbours and a mescla of people from all walks of life
I rolled into town with some fun fellows from Holland, Simone and Andres. They reorganized the peppy little car they were renting to make me a nest in the back seat. I played I-pod DJ and we cruised from our Bariloche to El Bolson, about an hour and a half. Or two hours if you enjoy getting lost and cleaning every window on the car with great precision at the gas station.
We did a hike one day to the top of Cerro Something. The first part of the trails leads to a forest of statues and shapes carved into natural tree stumps. Very cool and a little eerie. The second part of the trail led to the refugio where you can lay low, buy some brew and eat pizza. We opted for petting all the animals we could find. There we learned that there was a final leg to the hike, another 2.5 hours to the very tip of the mountain to get a 360 panoramic vista. So being completely unprepared, without food or lights for if it got dark, and starting very late in the afternoon, we obviously decided to do it.
"Vale la Pena" - Worth the pain... - as they say here. And there was pain. 2.5 hours to the tip of a mountain, that sounds like it involves a lot of climbing. My concerns were realized. We spent the last 500 meters, literally on hands and feet unable to stand without sliding down on the loose gravel slope. The scenery was incredible, rocky barren mountains with hues of smoky blue and lavender. It was like being on mars. In all directions was nothing but mountain tops and hazy clouds. We discovered that our hollers echoed for at least 12 seconds. Unreal.
A little vertigo or the wrong step would send you for a nice flight, perhaps at "terminal velocity" (yarrgh-yar) off the side of the mountain. The tiny little perch was hardly spacious. A little marker at the top was decorated with items people left, the earrings and shoe laces, pins and nick nacks. No underwear surprisingly. I left an anklet I picked up in the coast of Peru. From sea level to the highest peaks... what an incredible world we live in.
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| This may be a look of genuine concern. |
The rest of my time in El Bolson was spent taking walks and reading in my cozy bed with the fire on downstairs and trying to approach the skiddish pigs that roamed the muddy part of the property. Never quite got close enough to pet one. Major letdown. On the last day, a grandfather, his son and nephew arrived to stay the night in the bunkie. They were accompanying their elder to his chiropractic appointment from out of town and staying the night with him.
I love this about South American culture - the closeness of families. It is notably distinct from North American culture. While neither is better or worse, families here spend a lot of time together and really take care of one another. They usually don't stray far from home, which means Sunday afternoons, and just about every lunch break/siesta during the week, are shared together eating and letting the kids roam. It is beautiful.
The three guys invited everyone staying at the campground for a Parrilla - a typical Argentinian BBQ. A meat-lovers dream. 10 pounds of meat went on the fire, likely half a cow and other vairous parts. Spicy chorizo and big steaks seasoned only with salt. Simple is the way. All the meat was eaten with buns, handmade by a local whose little sister baked them fresh that afternoon. No condiments, nothing else. I made a big tray of roasted vegetables. We sat around, a group of 10 or 15 of us, the 4 Canadians living out back in the beer-making shed, the locals and the passerbys. Young and old, spanish and english, surrounded by bottles of homebrew and red wine, greasy fingered and translated smiles in the warmth and smell of an autumn woodfire. Thanks El Bolson.
