viernes, 11 de febrero de 2011

Sundance and Butch

It seems like a land that would draw Butch Cassidy and the Sundance kid. I grew up adoring that movie, never knowing it wasn't entirely true. My dad, the same man who introduced me to the classic Redford-Newman flick, gave me In Patagonia before we left for Christmas. It touches upon the legend of the Wild Bunch and their addiction to hold-ups. Lloyd and I are in El Calafate now, in the heart of Patagonia. The town is full of watery-eyed, gortex-clad, walking stick-toting tourists who come to talk amonst giants- the famed landscape of Patagonia. The wind is incessant, and so seems to uproot the majority of the surrounding flora, save for some blustered wildflowers. Artisan chocolate and slow smokoed lamb smatter menus. Microbrews and malbec are guzzled while the sun circles the sky lazily, never fully commiting to the concept of setting for a full nights rest. Parrilla is on every menu, and visible from every restaurant window with the intentions to draw drooling masses inside. A meager, smoky fire sits under inclining steak stretched thin and taut over a wooden cross. Glaciers and ice capped mountains always seem to sit just on the other side of the range, accessible by inventive transport methods- mountain bike, 4x4, horse, Zodiac, and raft. The fruit is surprisingly fantastic, and we are frequently offered fresh raspberry jam, small bowls of cherries while we wait and curiously, a plethora of nectarines, whose orchards surely cannot survive a season in Patagonia's inhospitable climate. Even the fauna is limited to a few small ostriches and some rugged looking llama.

1 comentario:

  1. Miss you more, today. Listening to the cd that mas mailed to you, via mi SD casa somehow makes me feel closer to you. Hugs to your face! Post some of those magnificent photos I know you are hiding from us all...

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