holy week/farewell

I feel somehow as if I must apologize for such a long absence. The lack of writing was not for lack of activity. On the contrary. There has been simply too much going on. Here are my excuses, my reasons for not writing:

dog sitting: I was given the priviledge if not task of watching the dogs--feeding, medicating and walking them. The dogs belong to the lovely owner of Estancia. She had to go to Buenos Aires to attend to family matters. I was to stay at her house--also very lovely, right on the lake, beneath the mountain, full of raw wood and leather. There are four dogs. Two heaving, heavy golden retriever brothers, their golden retriever mother and then an unrelated crippled black lab. The mom and the lame one are fine, just sad. The other two, the beefy young brothers, are horrors. They eat rocks, live chickens, leftovers from every human meal. They are both fat and orange and thus I can´t tell them apart, though one is supposedly the more dominant one and also supposedly more muscle than fat. regardless, I cannot and could not tell the difference. I am also bad with remembering names. I need to put names to faces in order to remember them. The faces of these dogs mean nothing to me and so I am left with nothing. This became a problem with regards to medication. The pills(and there were many different types for various ailments to be given at various times of the day) were to be hidden inside little balls of some mushy rice-chicken-cheese concoction made specially by Manu. All was well. I hid the pills, gave them to their respective patients and then went about my business. But the right patients did not seem to get the right pills. I woke to vomit on the couch and at breakfast, found golden diarrhea in the kitchen. Both had chunks that resembled the rice-chicken-cheese concoction. I held my breath and waited for the illness to pass. It did. Mariana joined me in the house/dog sitting. Together we lived at the house and she took over the task of medicating the beasts. Under her care, nobody became ill.

Mariana: My friendship with Mariana blossomed out of the shared dog-sitting among other things. She helps run the estancia--and does a very good job. SHe speaks better english than I do spanish and this has also helped us to develop a friendship more sophisticated than with my other coworkers. She has an infectious laugh and a keen sense of the absurd. We share meals, hikes and much discussion about the guests that pass through here. Though it is truly not a complaint, she has taken up much of my time in which I might otherwise be writing.

Holy Week: Holy week is the very last rush before the quiet season. Holy week constitutes some sort of spring break for Argentines and thus a time to come in droves to the mountains. We have had many day-trippers. Families coming for the day to horseback ride, kayak, hike, eat lunch, dinner, take tea with cookies, see the views, etc. They often come with their children. The parents sit at one table and drink wine and stain the table cloth while the children sit at a different table where they throw food and stain the table cloth. In short, they create an awful lot of work. There are americans too, spaniards, south africans, finns, french. Yes several french. They have all brought their own little quirks. Nothing too disrupting except, perhaps, for the three generations of loud women. They just departed this morning, and left behind them a wake of empty sweet-n-low packages and empty bottles of sauvignon blanc. Daughters (two, ages 17 and 21, always tired except when drunk), mother (disatisfied with everything but her crossword puzzles, newly divorced) and grandmother (the loudest and most willing to make an impression). They were from Florida but with the distict accents of Long Islanders. They shared a lot (with one another, but projecting so that I could always hear) about the unfortunate situation with their new stepmom. There is scandal in the family, very juicy, very crass. There was also a huge fuss because the grandmother nearly lost her life on the rafting trip. She was thrown from the raft which left her both petrified and sore. Her life was spared but her nails were not. Her hands were a sight. Knobbled veiny fingers ended in jagged, angry bright pink nails. I helped her to repaint the damaged nails. She was not pleased with the results.

Training: Because I am leaving, somebody needs to take over my position. I have come to work in the service alone most of the time, manning the tables, the drinks, the cocktail, etc. I have it down to a science, or perhaps an art if I dare flatter myself. I have a delightful relationship with Silvina and a very functional one with Manu. Gladis--timid, depressed, slow-moving gladis--was somehow chosen to take over. It is is my job to train her. This has been a challenge to say the least. Though I had previously had very lovely feelings about Gladis, she is beginning to try my patience. My language skills are limited in such a way as I cannot explain to her the need to improvise, to think on ones feet, to multi-task, etc. But I have been kind and patient with her. Manu has not. THere is drama in the kitchen. Manu has made Gladis cry on several occasions. The administration has gotten involved. I am, by default, involved. I try to mediate. I use my body and my face to express what my words cannot and thus I am exhausted by all the encouraging smiles and shrugs-of-understanding. The two will work something out. It is no longer my problem.

Trip planning: My last and final excuse. This one has perhaps been the most occupying. I have been, for some time, deep in the process of preparing for the next part of my trip. I have bitten my nails a lot. I have debated internally and aloud, with myself and with others about where I should go, what I should do when I go there, etc. This all coincided with a steady stream of earthquakes in Chili (my supposed next destination. I could not help but take all the earth-shaking as some message from the gods. But I have decided, more or less.
Tomorrow I go south. South to the giant glaciers. I expect to be wowed. I will write about it, I hope. The glaciers, then up through the fjords by boat, then to the lush island of Chiloe, then north to Santiago, to the valleys of wine grapes and then who knows.
I could stay on here if I wanted. They want me to. I have already stayed longer than I thought. It is because I like it here. A lot. But I am excited now about travelling again. My bags are packed and my feet significantly itchy. They paid me today. More than I had expected. All in cash. I will guard it with my life as I climb up those mountains of ancient ice. I will, though, be taking with me more than money. I have new friends, new characters, a deeper understanding of the tourism industry, a solid vocabulary list of cleaning-associated words, and other less quantifiable gains.