Poop Parts

Levi hiding behind the mixed grill.

We were getting ready to bid farewell to Uruguay and start our adventure in Argentina.

Our last meal in Uruguay should be a nice one at a nice restaurant. We were in Colonia del Sacramento. The Portuguese founded Colonia in 1680 to smuggle goods into Buenos Aires, Argentina. Winding cobbled streets and beautiful views of the waterway. A pretty place to say goodbye to Uruguay.

Since we continue to struggle with Spanish, we tend to look at the plates coming out of the kitchen to determine what we want to eat and then it is some pointing so the waitress knows what to order us.

The 'special' at the restaurant was this impressive mixed grill meat platter full of wood roasted meats and sausages. We saw several coming out of the kitchen.  Pretty expensive, $50 Cndn, so Greg, Levi and I were going to share.

There were some sweet potatoes, a couple of roasted peppers and some bread. There was 1 chicken drumstick for Levi and then it was a bit of a mystery. There were some ribs, some flank type cuts, some chorizo sausages...... And then the real mystery began.  Blood sausage, a whole kidney, and then long ribbons along the side of the platter (sorta like garnish but much too big) which I have only seen in a Biology 30 class.  Most definitely intestine.

Now Anthony Bourdain's culinary show profiled these parts as a bit of a delicacy in Colombia (I never expected them in Uruguay) -- he referred to them as "poop parts" and if I remember correctly, I thought he said they weren't too bad.

I remained open-minded the whole while it took to cut a bite-sized piece off (it took about 20 saws with a steak knife). I quickly concluded it was the most foul and offensive thing I have ever eaten. You have to chew it lots or you can't swallow it and the flavour just keeps getting stronger and stronger. Chasing with beer doesn't help. How could it be that so many of these platters were leaving the kitchen?

Aghast, I said, "that is the worst thing I have ever tasted, even if I was offered $5000, I would not be able to eat that."  The kids were surprised. "Really Mom? That is a lot of money!"  I confirmed that it was just that bad and that I could not.    Pause....  and then Quinn piped up, "would you pay us $5000 if we ate it?"

I was so confident that they wouldn't get through it I agreed but added, "it will be extra money we would give you for your education". (Levi quickly wondered if I would discount his amount but allow him to use it for things other than school.)

Tough stuff.

Quinn tried it, open minded and confident. The process to get through one swallow had her shaking her head, gagging and abandoning the deal. Surprisingly, Levi also tried it; also unable to get past one bite. Colby approached the issue methodically, "how much would I get if I ate half of the intestine?", "what is the cost of a post-secondary semester?", "how much money did I make working last summer?"

WATCH THE VIDEO > >

She took half of the intestine on her plate knowing that she had $2000 education dollars at stake. I was completely confident that she physically would not be able to get through it knowing full well how horrid it tasted.

Must be that post secondary is on her mind and just around the corner.....  That girl was determined. Let me remind you that you can barely cut it with a knife and that you cannot swallow it without chewing. She got through half her portion and was about to abandon but realized that she couldn't possibly quit with nothing gained, she couldn't fathom it getting any worse, couldn't imagine walking away at this point ....... so she plowed through it all.

Earning an education.

So that was a couple of days ago now and I still look for opportunities to tease her. "Colby, do want some dental floss-- there might still be some intestine in your teeth." "Colby did you want to see if they have intestine flavour ice cream here?" .....   Every time she shudders but agrees in the end that it is a heck-of-a-story.

Off-grid Goodness

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The last few days of travel have been special to say the least. We even began to wonder if the remainder of the trip could get any better.      

Both of our latest destinations had one  thing in common; they were both "unplugged". One on a windy peninsula surrounded by sand dunes, and the other a rural retreat surrounded by the Sierras de Rocha.

We arrived in Cabo Polonio, a random collection of beach dwellings, perched on the back of a massive, well worn truck that had seen its fair share of dunes. It rumbled its way through boggy sand and wide beach until landing in the midst of what could be described as an expression of pioneer practicality. Houses of all shapes, sizes and colours riddled the small piece of land. Each hosting an array of hand painted signs, solar and/or wind powered devices and squat black water reservoirs perched up high. Dr. Seuss would be inspired.
     
Our hostel was as charming and interesting as Alfredo, our host. Both have many facets and have seen a great deal in their time together. Lucky for us Alfredo loves cooking - especially on a tiny wood fired oven that my great grandmother would have thought inadequate.

Aside from exploring the beach, trying our hand at sandboarding and simply enjoying the mellow vibe our highlight was a meal prepared by our host. Although we could have eaten down at the beach at an itsy bitsy restaurant, we couldn't resist asking to sample his talent when a firewood supply truck arrived with a small pork leg stashed behind the seat; a special order for Alfredo.              
The meal was authentic, both in terms of its flavours and ambiance. On the porch were the MacIntyres and a nice German couple; tucked inside the warm kitchen/dining room/bar were Alfredo and a number of close friends - all enjoying the food and helping where they could.

The slow roasted meat and root vegetables accompanied by beer, wine and an ever attentive host were all so satisfying. Although there was scotch on offer I had to decline. My only regret.

As we left Cabo Polonio we were joined by Alfredo on the sand bus. He was on his way to visit a friend in hospital. Worried that the public health system may be lacking some comforts, he wanted to be sure that his friend was not lacking for anything. Cabo's community takes care of its own.

Two buses later we were sitting in  Rocha's lovely town square awaiting our connection to "Caballos de Luz ". It was Santiago who approached the cluster of Canadians huddled around their packs. "Santy", as we later called him,  was a bright eyed, smiley man sporting a reddish frock of dreadlocks. Beneath his gentle exterior was a brauny, tanned rancher with working hands to match.

The red pickup, filled with eucalyptus timbers for the youth center, rattled up to a pastoral farm like nothing we'd ever imagined. Two imacculate thatched cottages, horses casually wandering the yard, would be our home for the next few days.

We were greeted in the yard by our hostess Lucie.  With open arms, impeccable English and hugs for all, we were immediately at ease. Tall and slim with perfect posture and a mane of sandy dreadlocks, we knew that we were meeting the inspiration for the guest ranch; this was someone special.

Levi was immediately at home, his green eyes a little brighter. Dogs fetching sticks and gentle horses to feed kept him busy for hours. We may have a Gaucho on our hands.

Much the same as Cabo Polonia, this farm had an impressively tiny footprint. Solar power, water pumped from a local pond, walls made with adobe mixed with hay, compacted sandbag walls and composting toilets are just a few examples of the how living comfortably off the grid can be accomplished.

Not only was this a small ranch, but a larger community. The land was bought about ten years ago by a handful of people. They were hoping to secure it for more than a pulp and paper farm; something quite common when the economy tanked years back. Big money was buying up land for pennies. Santy told me that, much like other parts of the world, the rural population in Uruguay is in decline; that they want to do what they can to change that for their community.

So, why not build a community? Create a place that is compelling and gratifying, a place to call your own. On horseback we toured the area to see the communal homes, the youth center in its last stages of construction and the round, living roofed community hall where yoga and choral groups gather.  It is clear that both Lucie and Santy are heavily invested in this ideal; both financially and emotionally. In broken English Santy suggested that the hard work now would really pay off for the next generations to come. Wow.

Again, there was lots for us to do on the ranch apart from just soaking the place in. We hiked to the top of a nearby "mountain" where we left an inukshuck for posterity. We were given horse riding lessons by the resident horse whisperer - Lucie. Levi helped 'shoe' Quinn's horse, something that needs to be done every 4 weeks. The rocky terrain is hard on their hooves.

We had a great trail riding experience climbing up and down steep enbankments and riding the horses across and back the river. The horses were so well trained that Levi compared using the reins to a joystick- forward, left, right, reverse. Again, like in Cabo, the host was a consummate cook. Instead of a wood truck delivering her ingredients she grew her own.

Admittedly we were a little worried about an all veggie, all the time diet but we had no reason to fear. Each meal was complete and unique. From homemade bread and granola for breakfast to the most velvety polenta accompanied by potato pakora for supper. Lana, in particular, was over the moon at every meal.
                                              
We left feeling healthy and happy, wondering what a few months of this living could provide and feeling that our footprint back home is of mammoth proportions.