White eyes

‘Maril!’ He calls me to sit down beside him by the huge bonfire which is gradually reaching manageable proportions. ‘What is your title for the day?’, he wants to know. Before I can answer, he says: ‘I have one: White Eyes. You see that dog with the white eyes that is blind? Sometimes he doesn’t know what is going on, but then he slowly moves determinedly and you realise he knows. That is the same with people in life…’


Bernardo is a paying guest at the hostel who arrived 2 days ago. He is a journalist who has been travelling for eight months, writing a documentary about various areas in Argentina, which he hopes will be filmed. He drives 10 000km a month – crazy! Quite eccentric, with a marvellous sense of humour.  He is on his way north and his car has been giving problems. It cannot be fixed in Sauce Viejo so he is now sleeping for 2 hours (after his late dinner of steak and tomatoes) and will then drive 500km back to Buenos Aires to have it repaired. As soon as it is fixed, he will drive north, past here on his way to Cordoba.Such are the characters I have been meeting here. At some stage there were 7 people around the fire, but not all were eating. They kept on coming and going, quite haphazardly.  It was a special night, with the full moon rising over the river, and not a breath of wind.  The fire was big and Alejandro kept on fuelling it with massive dead tree trunks. On the braai was one flat chicken, a steak and a potato cut into slices, all very slowly being grilled. A cabbage salad and sandwiches appeared from the kitchen, and some of Ale’s freshly baked bread. A feast, to say the least.
Things are gradually improving and the weather is playing along, it’s much warmer. I have cooked twice and am beginning to feel part of the establishment. I don’t mind that Ale’s English is improving at a much faster rate than my Spanish, at least we are communicating. Last night I was mostly enjoying staring into the fire, fully aware of the people and occassionally engaging, with the moon and river as backdrop. Bernardo had given me some useful information on Santa in the north, where there are wine farms,  and I read this very apt quote on a website:

‘My work is about space and the light that inhabits it. It is about how you confront that space and plumb it with vision It is about your seeing, like the wordless thought that comes from looking into the fire.’  (James Turrel, on his art).

The fire had done its work for me.