A Busy and Dusty Road

Riding home from the city is fine during calm days and when there is not a lot of traffic. Being in such a dry desert zone, dust is a real problem, and the moment a car passes by on a dirt road, huge clouds of dust swirl up behind it. The end result of this is being covered in dust from head to toe… even to having dust stuck inside my ears. Not a very comfortable feeling.

Dusty roads
The road to the Quintas from Madryn.

So on days like this, the best thing to do is head for that tiny little trail that takes me away from this dusty road and gives me peace and quiet as I negotiate the remaining 3 kms to get back home.

The Frustration of Christmas in Customs

I am angry, annoyed, and frustrated. If I could be more things then I would be too. It is not as if I didn’t know… nor that I shouldn’t have been aware of what was going to happen. Still, each time it drives me crazy. Archaic laws from a controlling dictatorship that no longer exists. A law that forces every person in Argentina to pay 50% of the value of every single item they receive by mail or courier just to be able to walk out with it.

Now add to this crazy law, one super legalistic letter-of-the-law customs lady, and you get this very situation in which I found myself. Christmas in customs.

Christmas in customs
Opening my Christmas gifts in the customs office.

You see, in order to charge you the 50% of everything that comes into the country, the customs officer needs to see absolutely every single item that arrives. They then put whatever price they consider reasonable, based on Argentine prices if there is no price placed on the package customs slip and charge you accordingly.

So when I went in to pick up my box of Christmas gifts, there was no way that I was going to be able to walk out without opening every one of them. At first the lady wanted to open each one herself but I told her that since they were my presents, that I should be the one opening them. And that is just what I did. Christmas in customs.

Instead of sitting down the in comfortable privacy of my room – well, if you call a room shared with four other guys private that is – to open each present and think about each person that had sent it to me, I found myself in a cold and basic customs office with an impatient customs officer leaning over me to find out what was in each packet.

One by one I pulled out my presents, reading the cards and tearing open the wrapping. The joy tempered by a resentment of the control exercised by this law, and the legalistic nature in which it was enforced. Once everything had been checked, I signed the legal document that both charged me the tax fees and allowed me to leave with my gifts.

This time however I did not pay. The first $25 USD received each year is free. It takes very little to reach that amount however, so the next package won’t be free.

Each year, while I remain in Argentina and until this law is changed, my experience is the frustration of having Christmas in a customs office cubicle.

UPDATE 30 Nov: They were not in a huge box so I guess they did not attract that much attention. That is why on November the 30th I received two large envelopes with Christmas pressies in them. One had some yummy chocolate (all gone now), and the other had some book-style presents from my bro Joseph and his wife. Thanks heaps guys.

Presents that made it
The presents that made it.

So I guess the moral to this story is to try and send things a little less conspicuously than a huge box where this is possible.

Felling Trees by Hand and Its Dangers

Nope I am not talking about using an axe to fell the trees although we did use one afterwards to chop it up. What I am talking about is getting a bunch of guys on the end of a rope that we have tied to a tree and then by brute force pulling the sucker over onto the ground.

Felling Trees
Felling the first tree by hand.

It is not often that you can do this to a tree, but our trees have been infected with bugs and critters that have eaten a good part of the life out of them. Most continue to live, but for some their strength is fading and other have given up trying to live altogether and remain only as ghosts of the past, dry and completely dead.

When a strong wind blew for a couple of days it managed to push over some of the bigger sick trees. One was about to fall onto the house until another tree stopped its fall. It was the first of our concerns. After that one we pulled over another that was leaning further than the Tower of Pisa. It too gave way easily under the strength of 8 guys.

The Dangers
The last tree was already dead and we removed it as a precaution. There were only two of us pulling this one down, but when it started to fall I was almost plastered. Somehow I ended up directly underneath the falling tree. Sensing the imminent danger I moved with great speed to get out of the way. Unfortunately, my helper was still standing there watching the thing fall. As he was out of the way there was no great rush for him.

Getting the rope into position on the tree
Fabian getting the rope into position on the tree.

Bouncing back into the shadow of the falling tree, my time was becoming very limited to get out of the way. That thing was gaining speed and I was still there in its path. Once again I launched out to get away from the danger. This time my path was free but my feet slipped on the loose soil and I almost fell.

With my hand near the ground and my feet still slipping but pushing hard, my eyes focused on the ever faster approaching tree, eyes growing wider and wider with both fear and concern. It must have looked a bit like a scene involving the coyote from the old Road Runner cartoons.

The team ready to pull the first tree over
The team ready to pull the first tree over.

The urgency and severity of the situation kept me pushing to get out, and suddenly a foot grabbed solidly. Within moments I was away from the danger. One, two, almost three steps when, “WHAM!” The tree slams hard into the ground right where I had been standing only moments before.

Ruben had seen the whole thing and could not stop laughing. It was something about bouncing off Juan and my saucer-sized eyes that caught his attention. For me, I was just glad to be safe. Again.

Light the Fire Conference

It was a great day full of sun and a gentle breeze. Perfect for the long walk to town to get to the bus terminal. There were 24 of us altogether but before long we were pretty spread out along the road according to walking speeds and involvement in conversations. Some managed to get a ride almost all of the way there, but even in this part of Argentina where you can fit six or more people into a car, not all of us were going to fit in. Multiple trips finally sorted that out, picking us up along the way.

Walking to the bus station
Walking to the bus station.

At the bus terminal the bus to Trelew, our nearest city, leaves every half-hour. You cannot purchase tickets ahead of time and 22 people almost fill the bus. So with the first bus full, we were left with a little more than half an hour to rest after our walk. Some of the girls took advantage of the time with some sweets from the local bakery while others rested against the wall or on the nearby seats.

Girls resting against the wall
The girls resting against the wall in the bus terminal.

On reaching Trelew, it was a little under 1km to walk to the venue where we sorted out the details of our entry and all filed in. We were just in time for the second session of the day. The speakers came from all over South America and the United States but today all of our speakers turned out to be from Argentina.

Arriving at the venue
Arriving at the Conference venue.

Each speaker gave their presentation. Three of them in all. The first one spoke on very intellectual matters and lost me within the first fifteen minutes of his two hours. The second one was a replacement for another speaker who had become ill. He was more passionate in his presentation but it still seemed to lack substance.

The YWAMers in the conference
The YWAMers in the conference.

Both had talked about things and told us what needed to be done without actually doing any of it. The conference was called “Light the Fire” and yet I felt like somebody sitting in a group around a dead fire. Here we were talking about how you should light it, why it went out, what to do when it is lit, and the things to help it keep going… YET NOBODY WAS ACTUALLY GOING ABOUT LIGHTING IT.

Our view from the side seats
Our view from the side seats.

Call me a critic, but doesn’t it seem ironic to you too? These sorts of things frustrate me, and frustrated I was. However the third speaker did more than just speak intellectual things in the air. I was proud to know that he was our national YWAM leader, although this has nothing to do with my thoughts on his speech.

Alejandro taking to the platform
Alejandro taking to the platform (receiving prayer before speaking).

Speaking to the core of the people there, Alejandro Rodriguez cut to the chase and brought many people to account for their selfish attitudes and actions within the church. He pulled no punches. There was an authority in the way that he spoke that neither of the other speakers had. It brought people to their senses, made them think twice, and had many repenting of their wrong actions and attitudes. So influential was his preaching that virtually everybody went forward as a declaration that they would change those areas where they had been wrong.

Almost everybody went forward
Almost everybody went forward.

Finally somebody was doing something about the fire. It was like ordering the wood to get it ready to light. Not a fire in itself but an important step. It was not everything that needs to be done, but it is a start. May God use this to bring more action into this conference.

Alejandro Rodriguez preaching
Alejandro surrounded by a repentant group of people.

Lighting the fire requires action. Not talk.

Indecision and Thornbushes

It was quite an unstable situation to have a huge bag of washing on my back and my backpack hung around my neck as I tried to ride down a narrow track hedged in on both sides by gnarly thorn bushes. I had been down this track many times and by experience knew that just one wrong move would land a huge thorn in the middle of my tyre and leave it as flat as three day old road-kill.

Thornbush
The thorn bush (now broken) and my path through the middle.

So above all I was trying to be careful. It was this foolish notion of being careful that led me into this problem in the first place. Somewhere along the track it branches into two as it passes a particularly nasty thorn bush. On one side the track has a small sudden drop-off, while on the other side it is a smooth track down to the next level. The drop-off is always fun on the bike when all is good. Today not all was good.

In addition to carrying the heavy load of washing on my back, the seat pole had been bent seriously out of shape and was threatening to collapse underneath me. The drop-off could be just the thing to bring it to that point. Of course none of this information was actually thought about until the drop-off came into sight. At that point a decision had to be made, and fast. The drop-off was direct and easy but the seat pole situation was threatening serious discomfort if it broke. The other pathway was preferable but involved a quick duck to the side. I forgot about the washing on my back.

Bent bike seat pole
The bent seat pole (that bent even more the same day).

The weight of the washing caused everything to slow down. Right down. So much so that my quick dash off to the side ended up instead as a slight deviation to straight. Too fast to stop, too slow to turn, and now completely without option. The thorn bush loomed menacingly ahead. Then suddenly, “crash, scrape, bang, bump!” I had just ridden directly through the middle.

The worst case scenario had just happened. Doh! Now what?

Big thorns and little tyres
One of the thorns that threatened my tyre.

After climbing off and checking over the bike, I was both astonished and relieved to discover that there had been no punctures. Somehow, although stuck in various parts of the treads, the nasty thorns had missed their mark and left my tyres inflated and intact. Climbing onto the bike again I continued my journey, but this time with more care and less speed. I had learned my lesson…

Indecision or a late decision is worse than a bad decision.

Fiambre Man

Fiambre is the Spanish name for everything to do with sandwiches such as salamis and cheeses. One of the more favoured snacks here in Argentina is salami and cheese on bread and it is one that I too have grown to really enjoy.

The Fiambre man and his shop
The fiambre man and his shop.

I was on my way home when I realised that I had not yet purchased these essential ingredients from the supermarket. Just at that moment I noticed a Fiambreria – or salami and meats shop. This is different from a butcher shop which has raw meat, the Fiambreria carries meats that are ready to eat just as they are: ham, salami, corned meats, etc. They often carry cheeses too.

The owner was not very busy at that moment. His was a new shop that had only recently opened, and clients were not yet aware that he existed. I found him outside in a chair enjoying the warmth of the sun, watching the cars and people pass by. As soon as I approached he got up and welcomed me warmly.

A talkative type of fellow, once we got inside the shop he began to tell me all about the different meats and suggest a number of different ones. Not having any experience in the different types of meat, he also offered free tastings of each type. Before long I had ordered the salami that I needed. The same applied to the cheese.

Somewhere in the conversation he asked me about where I was from. Upon hearing Australia he proceeded to tell me all about one of his friends that now lives in Australia. It constantly amazes me just how many people I have met who have a friend or family living in Australia. This friend had described Australia to him in such a way as to help him feel as though he had actually been there, and he pumped me for more information still.

Not being in any hurry and happy to chat with such a friendly guy, I hung around and told him a little more about Australia and life here in Argentina, comparing the two at times, and showing the similarities and differences. He was delighted, and as I left he came out and waved me off, returning to his chair in the sun.

This photo was taken a little later when I passed by on foot. He was very enthusiastic and happy to have the photo taken, recognising me immediately. It seems that I now have a friend. The only thing is that I never actually caught his name… nor he mine.

So for now I refer to him as, “The Fiambre man.”

Lazy Day at the Beach

Today was a lazy day at the beach. Nothing much to do except watch the little sailing boats in their regatta and find dead soccerballs in the sand.

Regatta

It’s a hard life here some days.

Old soccerball in the sand

Soccer Tournament

In the YWAM base we have a need for new musical instruments in the worship ministry team. The gear that they have is mostly broken and repaired and broken again and repaired again. It has gotten to the point that they cannot depend upon the microphones. Worse, the only electric-acoustic guitar that they had was destroyed in a fall.

Fixing the goals
Welding up the broken goals.

So to help fund the purchase of some basic gear they decided to organise a soccer tournament between the churches of Port Madryn. Although not all participated… the church that I was sent to had only three people turn up and all of them were women… we ended up with six teams playing including two teams from us.

Adding the missing bits
Some parts had been completely missing.

We had our staff team (Tito as captain, Rene, Gaby, Fabian, Daniel, and me) and a Discipleship school team (Jorge as captain, Gabriel, Juan Pablo, Ernesto, Dawelky, Stephanie, and Heather). The two girls were happy to go it with the boys as they loved playing soccer and there was no girls team.

Hard play

We were ready after lots of repairs on our old goals, changing our soccer field from up-down to cross-wise and making it larger, putting up big nets to catch stray balls before they left the property, and leveling out the ground somewhat. A quick game between ourselves the day before to make sure all was good, some last minute work on the day, and then we just needed to wait for the teams to turn up.

Jorge going hard

By the end of the first series of rounds, our staff team was set to move into the play-offs. The Discipleship school team also moved into the playoffs as the losing team with the highest points score. We beat them and moved into the final.

Discipleship school team playing hard

The final took place immediately after our semi-final play-off, leaving us all tired as we competed against a team that had been able to rest up. This is not an excuse for the fact that we lost this game. They were better players and deserved to win. It is just that I believe we would have made them work harder for their prize if we had been given a short rest between the games.

A dirt field

As it turned out, the winning team took home a lovely big trophy to remember the day by. We too ended up with a trophy that said we were “Sub-Campeones”, which brought a smile to all of our faces.

Raising dust

That night we all slept solidly. We were stuffed.

Plastic Everywhere

Having lived in Argentina now for almost four years, one of the things that still strikes me is the amount of plastic rubbish that covers the landscape. Seeing people throw their rubbish onto the ground when it is no longer wanted is still hard for me witness. The plastic bags are not normally in this category however, and most are used in the home as rubbish bags to contain other trash.

Plastic bag bushes

The myriads of plastic bags across the landscape therefore seems to be inexplicable. The only thing that I can consider a reasonable explanation is that the dogs that roam the streets, and there are many dogs roaming the streets, tear up the bags looking for food and the wind blows them off. With a landscape covered in thornbushes, these bags end up impaled on a thorn or two and remain there until they finally start to fall apart.

Fields full of plastic bags

Although plastic bags were a great idea at first, their effect on the environment has long outweighed any cost or convenience and it is time to ban them from our lives. There are already some cities in Argentina that have banned their use, and many others around the world have done so for some time. There are many better alternatives that we need to use now. Let’s do it.

Russians and Boat Wrecks

Now that I have my bike, there are places to go that I have not yet been. This means jumping on the bike and picking a new place just to see what it is like. Today I headed out to find the old boat wrecks that lay somewhere along the beach north of Madryn.

The boats from a distance

The ride started off on the sand, but before long I was riding along a sandstone rock that covered the entire beach area. Some parts were covered in a green algie and were very slippery, other parts were bare and dry but filled with deep ruts that made riding really difficult and slow.

Riding over the rocky section

Continuing onward, the wrecks could be seen in the distance, and like all things that can be seen in the distance, they did not look too far away. They were however, and it took more than an hour of riding over some really rough rocks before I started to get near them.

Lots of bumps along the way

On the left hand side a cliff rose up beside me, with a strong wind whipping the sand and dirt into my eyes when I was not careful. Unfortunately my ride was against the wind, which made things just that much harder and slower. It did not deter me from the goal however, and after much effort I finally reached the boats in their final resting place along the beachfront.

Nearing the boats

The newest of all boats present was one that looked like a Russian whaling boat. At least that is what it looked like to me. A rope hung from a lowerable stairway which gave access to climb aboard, something that I would like to do with some friends later on.

The Russian boat

The size of this ship was amazing when I compared it to my bicycle, found in the middle of the photo below. Each ship was pretty big but this one seemed even bigger. Perhaps that was just because it was the one that I got closest to.

My bicycle is in the middle of the hull

After lots of riding against the wind it was a joy to turn around and head back along the roads. The wind provided so much assistance that there were times when I was overtaking the cars. With such a great push, it was easy to get back just before the sun set and darkness obscured the long unlit road back home.

Far from home

Old boat wreck along the way

Sunset on the way home