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Spitting Fire

The other week the art students were being taught how to juggle and walk on stilts. Starting with balls they moved on to the bowling pins and then, to everybody’s surprise, to balls of fire and fire sticks. This was a challenge for each of them to overcome different fears or concerns that they had about working with fire.

Finally it came to the main act, of breathing fire. Practicing first with water, they all perfected their technique and then one by one, the boldest first, they had a go at breathing fire from their mouths. It was an amazing spectacle and many of the staff stopped to watch the process. The end result was highly spectacular, as the photos show. I was even able to have a go at it all.

Water first
Everyone practising with water first.


Making fire. Billy showing the others how it is done.

Facu
Facundo trying his hand at it all.

Billy again
Billy shows how it is done again.

Girls have a go
One of the girls trying it out.

The crowd
The crowd watching each attempt.

Billy showing me
Billy showing me how it is done.

My attempt
Here is my attempt at breathing fire.

Gaston
Gaston preparing to juggle with fire.

Juggling with fire
Gaston juggling his firesticks.

Stilts
The students practising walking with stilts.

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The Old Bus

When I first arrived in Buenos Aires and visited YWAM in the city, it happened to be a Friday. Every Friday evening the people in the city centre bases travelled out to the Ituzaingo base for a “Buenos Aires” meeting, and I was invited. This meeting involved a lot of fun activities, sharing the things that had happened during the week, and eating together afterwards. It was a lot of fun.

Arriving at 5pm, I waited another hour before we were all ready to leave. Our transport… an old bus. This old bus has been a part of YWAM in Buenos Aires for quite some time now, and after reconditioning the motor it goes very smoothly. Unfortunately the bodywork of this beast is in great need of repair.


The old bus as it looks today.

Large sections of paint flaking off, rust holes showing up in the floor, broken indicators and windows, and other bits and pieces tell you that this bus has seen a lot of work. For Argentina it is old, but not down and out. When I first saw it however, it was quite a shock to the system.

Sitting on the bus, there were more of us than the seats could manage, and we then jammed a whole bunch of bags and equipment in amongst us all. My seat, like all of the seats in this bus, was super tight on the knees. It was kind of like a top level basketball player trying to sit in the economy class section of an airplane. It didn’t quite work.


Parked under a tree to try and protect the remaining paint.

So with knees up around the shoulders, I fit myself in and the journey began. Others, shorter than I was, managed to make themselves comfortable in this old bus. But not so for me. The discomfort and lack of room only served to etch this journey indelibly into my mind forever. That and the heat.

In Buenos Aires in the summer it is very hot. Sitting cramped amongst dozens of other people equally cramped, while stuck inside a tin roof with the sun beating harshly upon it, using tiny window openings for ventilation while inching forward in traffic turns a bus into a sauna.

Perspiration rolled down my face and back as I sat on my pre-heated vinyl seat. Enjoying the moments that a break in the traffic gave us opportunity to generate a breeze through the windows. It was never enough however, but it felt great.

Arriving was a great experience, and after stumbling off the old bus and teaching my legs how to walk again, it was great to stretch and feel the blood in my feet once more. That old bus had done a wonderful job and gotten us here. How wonderful it is to have something like that to help us in our transporting of people all over the city and further.

Looking at the old thing today, I can see that there is still a lot of life left in the beast, and was glad to hear that there is now a project underway to repair it. Removing and replacing rusted metal sections, repainting it, and fixing up the seating inside are all on the agenda. Already the original seats that I experienced have been removed and a handful of better seats have taken their place in the back section.


The newer seats that have replaced the old ones.

There is a lot of work to get it into good condition, but this is the goal. I look forward to seeing the finished job, once they get there, and just so I would not forget what it was like beforehand, I snapped off a few shots of the precious Mercedes Benz bus that created such a clear memory of my first moments in YWAM Argentina.


The broken indicator.


Driving position.


The Argentine flag proudly displayed at the front.

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Fierce Storm

Only two days ago there was a fierce storm come over our city. In the city centre trees had fallen over and roofs ripped off. There was a mess everywhere. Where we are, the core of the storm bypassed us, but the strength of the wind was massive at times. There were moments when I thought our little house would lose its roof. It didn’t, and we all survived, but power went out until the next day.


The approaching storm.


Trees bending under the fierce winds.

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Scorpion

I found a scorpion under our door stop yesterday. It is the first one that I have found since moving here and I was surprised at this little creature. When I disturbed it, it ran around inside my house with its tail elevated and looking very menacing. For all I know it is probably harmless, but based on my movie mentality, they are all deadly little creatures, so I killed it. Poor thing. Chose the wrong place to hide.

Before this event I always thought that scorpions were hard shelled little creatures that were pretty tough and hardy. My late-scorpion had a very soft shell on it, that seemed more leathery than like a shell. It also did not look like the sort of creature that would live very long in a dry environment. It certainly did not live very long in my house environment.

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Missionary Conference in Virasolo (The Conference)

Arrival
Having arrived at the church, we were shown to our rooms. Mine was the pastor’s office, converted to a bedroom with two beds. The girls lived in a house attached to the side of the church. My room was located in the middle of everything. Next to our dining room, immediately behind the stage wall to of the church, and above the kitchen and meeting place for church members.

The facilities were basic, providing the necesities, but their hospitality was excessive. We were always fed with newly cooked food, even if there was enough left over to make another meal out of it, and were given enough drink to quench even the driest of thirsts. There were always people around to make sure that we were comfortable and to check if we needed anything else. And people were always available to show us around the local area, which they did. But they were never overbearing or crushing. I felt very comfortable here.

Having organised myself for the night, I wandered into the main church building, following a narrow hallway with several doorways on the right leading into the auditorium. I choose the third and enter into a large area filled with over a hundred people. The opening service had begun.


The church that held the Missionary Conference.

The First Night
During the course of the night, each of us were introduced to the people attending, making our way to the front to say a few words and then returning to our seats. Nancy spoke that night, about Missions and the importance of it. My turn would come the next day when I was to speak at a workshop at 10am.

Exhausted after the meeting, I turned in for an early night almost immediately afterwards. No sooner had I fallen into bed than there was a knock on the door. Upon dressing I discovered that it was somebody concerned that I would not be able to get out to the toilet without a key for the outside door. They offered me the key and left. I quickly fell back into bed again. Half an hour later there was another knock on my door. Again, after rising and dressing, I open the door to another person checking that I was able to get out to the toilet that night should I need to. I assured them that all was well and that I had a key so they could rest easy. Then fell back into bed.

The normal hour for sleeping is normally close to midnight, so these calls from people around 11pm were very common and they would have expected that I would be still awake. I wasn’t, and at a few minutes to midnight, a persistent knock at my door finally dragged me out of my deepening sleep. Upon rising, I discovered the the group who had been making a bunch of noise downstairs, almost directly underneath my room, were now leaving. I thanked them for informing me, turned and grabbed my newly given key, and followed them out, bidding them farewell and locking the door after me. Sleep came very easily.

Delivery Day
It was only a little after 6am that I awoke to my alarm. Underneath my room I could hear noises and movements of a number of people. Things were scheduled to start at 8am, so I wanted to be sure that I would be ready in time. A quick shower and I was ready to go and it was still only 6.40am. So after some morning routines I join the people downstairs for some mate and a chat. At around 7.15am I overhear some worried ladies talking about how the two girls have not yet risen. The girls rose only shortly afterwards.

Around this time, one of the men rises and announces that he is going to search out some “facturas” for breakfast. These are sweet croissants and other concoctions from the bakery that make for a very standard breakfast here. Then looking over my way, he offers me a ride around town to show me a little of the place. I don’t wait for a second invite and quickly climb on his scooter for the ride. We head down the streets looking for an open bakery.


Heading out to the bakery on the bike.
Continue reading “Missionary Conference in Virasolo (The Conference)”

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Holiday Time

Well, it is very close to holiday season now. I am getting ready to head off into the wild blue yonder. There is nobody to travel with me this time, so I am aiming to head for groups of friends in different places.

First stop is Buenos Aires, where I will catch up with some of my friends there for Christmas and the days around it. After this, I plan on heading south, with a possible stop in Mar de Plata. I was there once before but it was during winter and I have heard that it is a very different place during the summer. Continuing onward, my destination is Puerto Madryn, home to another YWAM mission station.

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Missionary Conference in Virasolo (Getting There)

“Rob,” the message came to me with urgency, “the taxi is outside waiting for you.” I had been talking with my friend Lehman about plans and ideas and had lost track of the time. Mostly packed, I quickly stuffed my computer and associated bits into my bag where they would fit and then raced out the door, concerned that the rush may have meant I had forgotten something. It was too late now anyway. Our bus was leaving in 25 minutes.

When I reached the taxi, Norma and Nancy were already there waiting to go. Throwing my bags into the boot, I climbed into the front and we were off. The taxi wove us through various pathways and roads on our way there. Leaving our area, we bounced and bumped along the badly eroded dirt roadways at speeds approaching 20 kms per hour. It was only once we reached the main roads, surfaced in asphalt, that we could travel at the regulated 60 kms per hour.

My view in the front seat was obstructed by a plastic sign jammed into the upper corner of the windscreen on my side. It contained the phone number of the taxi company and proved to be the perfect size to reduce the vision from my right eye to virtually nothing. So I found myself leaning left and right as we weaved our way through the meandering traffic just to see anything. It was just after 1.40pm in the afternoon. Our driver was pretty crafty in the paths he chose, and managed to cut through a service station, and squeeze through tiny gaps in the traffic to deliver us at the bus terminal with only minutes to spare.

The bus was waiting for us down the other end of the platform and after checking our bags into the storage space underneath the three of us clambered aboard and found our seats. I was seated on my own, next to a woman that managed to sleep for most of the journey. This was not the comfortable buses with wide seats and a food service. Those buses only travel between major destinations. Our destination was small and local, and our bus was narrow with two seats either side and an aisle that was filling up fast.

As a local bus, if there were people wanting to get onboard then it stopped. If people wanted to get off then it stopped. There were designated stops for the bus, but they were more of a guideline than a hardened rule. I guess these were the places that people knew to wait for the bus at least. As more people got onto the bus, there were no seats left for them to sit, so they just stood around in the aisle, bags at their feet.

People of all sorts were on our bus. From the local gaucho cowboy with his big belt, felt hat, and traditional clothing, to two modern girls decked out in the fashionable tight jeans and loose top typical to this part of the country. A father and son with their shopping for the week stood in the aisle saying nothing, while a middle-aged mother of three or four (it was hard to tell for sure) spent most of her journey telling the kids what they can’t do and should have done.

Five long hours later and we roll into the township of Virasoro, our destination and home to the Fourth Missionary Conference (of Virasoro). As soon as we had gotten off the bus and retrieved our bags we were met by the pastor and ferried in his car to the church hosting the conference.

We had arrived.

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Discipleship school graduated

Well the students of the Discipleship school finally graduated last friday and have all gone, leaving this place feeling a little empty. It has been great to have so many people from many different nations around, and there will be a few coming back next year too. But now that it is quiet, it is time to get some work done.


Students of the Discipleship School 2005.

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Christmas in Argentina

Arriving in Buenos Aires
Having made it down to Buenos Aires in a luxury coach with full length beds, I wandered through the city with my two bags, making my way slowly to the subway entry. On the way to my destination, the YWAM base in Ituzaingo, I stopped at the home of some old friends from the LIFE Argentina ministry.

At this house I heard how two of the workers had left over the time since I last saw them, and how well things were going for the ministry these days. It was good to see some old friends again, and I marvelled at how our friendships had lasted during a break of well over a year.

Luxury Bus
My luxury bus

Moving onward, via train and bus and walking, I finally arrive at the Ituzaingo base and get acquainted with both the new and old faces that are still here. Most of the staff have gone for the holidays but there are still around 60 people including students left here. The students have just finished the training part of their course and are about to leave for their outreach phase in a few days.

This Christmas was my very first Christmas ever in Argentina. The year before I was alone in a hotel room on the beaches of Viña del Mar in Chile, and the year before that in a hostel in Barcelona, Spain. There is nothing like spending Christmas with friends.

Buenos Traffic
Welcome to Buenos Aires

Christmas Dinner
On Christmas Eve a group of tables were placed out on the grass between the buildings. The temperature was a moderate 25 degrees (Celsius) and cooled off as the night progressed. Scheduled to start at 9.00pm, we were now accustomed to waiting significantly longer before seeing things truly get underway. True to form, our dinner started sometime around 10.00pm. I say sometime around then because we all started wandering out and filling up the tables at this time. Even as late as 11.00pm people were coming out to sit down at the tables. But it was around 10pm that we started.

Everybody was very dressed up for this night. Girls in evening dresses and sparkling jewellery, guys in dress pants and fancy shirts, and all oozing the sweet scents of perfume. In my casual jeans, t-shirt and a casual button-up thrown over the top as a coat, I felt noticeably out of place, although the unshaven stubble probably helped me to remain consistent in my style.

With most people seated, food was initially served to us, and then left on the dedicated food table, where we were able to help ourselves to more as we desired. There was an abundance of food present, more than any of us could possibly eat, and a large range of choice from which to select. My preferences were the pizza slices, juicy chicken breasts, and special ham and cheese sandwiches with a flavour all of their own. Of course there were salads and other niceties, but I hardly noticed those.

desert
Some still hovering around the desert table.

After dinner was desert, with specialities from all over the world. My favourite was the special cake from Latvia that Maija made, based on her grandmother’s recipe, although the chocolate and sugar coated peanuts and the large range of cakes and sweet breads were also very enticing. With so much to choose from and all so delicious, it was no wonder that everybody converged onto the desert table until we had eaten our fill.

Celebrating Christmas
It was getting very close to midnight by now, so we all wandered over to the sound system where we gathered as a group and chatted while we waited. Only moments before midnight the countdown began. It felt just like the New Years Eves that I have experienced in Australia all of my life. At the stroke of midnight everyone cheered and then kissed and hugged each other, wishing each person in turn a “Feliz Navidad” or “Merry Christmas.” The kissing of course was kissing on the cheek, typical of greetings in this culture.

It took some time to move around our group of around 60 people, kissing and hugging each one, and wishing them a great Christmas. Some of the girls danced and jumped in the joy of the moment. Couples clung to each other and stared into each others eyes, rejoicing in the joy of the moment. An emotion of joy and contentment touched us all.

4th of July Celebrations
As our well-wishing came to an end, the boys pulled out the multitude of fireworks that they had purchased for just this moment. This was a night to celebrate, and judging by the sounds of explosions all over the neighbourhood, everybody was celebrating hard.

Even before our fireworks could be lit, there were bangs and splashes of light reaching above the trees and buildings surrounding us. Dozens of bubbles of glowing paper rose into the night sky as the candle inside them continued to heat these crude hot air balloons and the wind carried them to unknown places. As I was pondering the safety of all of these glowing torches floating through the sky, one caught alight, and its ascent turned rapidly into a plunge as this flaming ball of fire crashed down on some unsuspecting house below.

Fireworks
One of the fireworks that behaved.

Soon our fireworks were lit, and shooting flames of fire and splashes of light into the night sky, their bangs, pops, and whizzes joining in with the already loud cacophony of noises echoing throughout the area. Everyone gathered together to watch this wonderful display of amazing lights, oohing and ahhing at each creative display.

Suddenly and without warning a box of already firing fireworks toppled over onto its side. Instead of shooting its payload of a dozen flaming rockets upward, it was now pointing directly at the crowd and hot balls of fire, one after the other, were launched at high velocity into their midst.

This group of elegantly dressed people took a moment to realise what was happening, but as they did there was a wave of panic set amongst them and they all soon started running to escape these fireballs. The expiring box of rockets under the force of each launch, managed to move just enough so that each proceeding rocket continued to aim directly at the crowd. No matter where they ran, a rocket was heading their way.

Finally the box expired and the crowd, now dispersed, were a lot more wary.

War Games
The boys, after the larger fireworks had launched, pulled out some Roman Candles which are the long hand-held sticks that shoot a coloured ball of fire at regular intervals. Rather than being satisfied with watching the balls of light reach into the sky, they push one of their friends out in front of them, and proceed to try and “shoot” him with their fireballs.

Shooting Fireworks
Playing wargames amongst friends.

This unfortunate fella then has to run around the place, dodging each ball of flames, until the sticks finally burn out. Sometimes there is only one person “shooting” at him, but often there are two. Both those wielding the Roman Candles and him who is the “prey” of the moment, consider this to be a great game and the amount of laughter and shouting that goes along with it all would indicate this to be true.

The Party Afterwards
With the fireworks finished, the music was turned up loud and the party got underway. Dancing, chatting, and just plain having fun was the order of the night. One by one, people slowly started to retire for the night. I turned in at around 2.30am with the music still blaring at massive volumes, some stayed up until 6am or later.

From my room, our music blended with other noises and music all over the neighbourhood. This was an Argentine Christmas.

Dinner tables and dancing
Everyone dancing in front of the tables after dinner.

Christmas Day
Most rose very late today. It was the day after for most people. Those of us from western countries wished each other a merry Christmas for today was the day that you do this. Wishing one of the Argentines a merry Christmas, he looked at us and asked us why we were doing this now, since last night was the time for that. We explained that this was what you do in our culture. He smiled and thanked us, but the puzzled look never left his face. For him, Christmas had already been welcomed.

We smiled as he left, then turned and wished everyone a merry Christmas once again. For today was Christmas.

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Time to Travel

This is my last entry for a while… there is no Internet where I am heading. Time to shut down and pack my stuff. I am off to Puerto Madryn. Travel time again.

So have a wonderful New Year and I hope that all of your hopes and dreams come true this year.