Bicicleta

San Ignacio Mini merited a stop as the best Jesuit-Guaraní ruins are to be seen there. Together with 3 other sites close by, it was declared a World Heritage site in 1984, for its ‘arcitectural beauty and evidence of unrepeatable history’.

As a former UNESCO Director General stated: “It is a matter of protecting the universal inheritance of humanity, not just preserving the past, but engineering a future more in keeping with the greatness of the human condition.” If this is the intention of world heritage sites, it was accomplished for me. I learnt about the Guaraní people, original inhabitants of the Argentinian Litoral, as that area in the northeast is known. How they had lived in communities of up to 2000 people, and very much in harmony with nature’s rhythms. How they regard words as more than a means of human communication, but a conduit to the divine. Their whole culture, its stories, myths and traditions, is orally transmitted, and they sing the messages given to them in dreams by the gods. According to them, the word is the soul, and to lose it is to die. “When the earth did not exist, amidst the ancient darkness, when nothing was known, He made the fundamental word open like a flower and, with Him, it divinely became heaven; this Ñamandu did, the true father, the first one.” (León Cadogan)

The first Jesuit Mission, or reduction, was established in 1609, and they were well-established and fully functioning by the time the Jesuits (Society of Jesus) were decreed to leave Argentina in 1768. They had grown in numbers and population, and had created a novel social construct different from any other where missionaries and original inhabitants intermingled. Cultural interchange was occurring, and every form of art and artisan activity was used to fulfil the evangelizing mission, The Guaraní took this a step further and created an art form which is now known as Guaraní Baroque. It was mainly wood and stone carvings, but was regarded as world class and filled every available space of the reduction. Unfortunately very little of it remains as the missions were all destroyed during the War of the Triple Alliance with Argentina, Brazil and Uruguay against Paraguay in the late 1800’s.

The reduction was completely enclosed by walls, and all activity took place on the inside. There were many private dwellings and areas designated for a vegetable and fruit garden, and one whole courtyard had all the workshops and shops, such as blacksmith, carpenter, ceramic, rosery making, bakery, spinning, etc. They thrived on music, dancing and plays and both Guaraní and western musical instruments were used. The presence of the Guaraní is strongly felt while walking amongst the ruins, especially as the beautiful old trees and plants serve as reminders of their connectedness to nature.

I had the rest of the day free so rented a bike for 250 pesos (R80) and took to the woods on my bicicleta. Nobody had warned me that the National Park had so many hills!! Up I went, pushing most of way, and down again, pulling on both brakes as the road was bad and full of stones, and ending up in hospital was not on my agenda. All worth the effort – being low season, I was completely on my own in the forest, and the view of the Parana river belonged just to me. I could peacefully eat my sandwich and contemplate all without having to clamber for a place as I had to at Iguazú. What bliss…

There was one solitary young man walking with a plastic bag to one of the comunidad aborigens (townships for the aboriginal people) that are located all around the outskirts of town. I passed him before getting into the forest, but then I stopped for a rest and was putting down my helmet and rucksack when I felt stinging bites on my calves, under my tight fitting jeans. I looked down to find my tackies full of tiny ants, and they were everywhere – how they managed to get up my jeans so fast remains a mystery, but I was determined to get rid of them before they climbed any higher. I was just about to yank off my pants when the lone man came up the road. So I had to wait, and by the time he had disappeared round the corner, they were biting me at the waist. Was I glad to be rid of those jeans! If it’s not the pesky gnats, it’s the ants…

To update you on the pink travelling companion – yes, I pushed and pulled it very far after the bus had casually dropped me off at the side of the highway outside San Ignacio. Of course I took a wrong turn agáín, based on anóther assumption… I was looking for house number 306 (that was the number in Iguazu) in stead of 1636 (the San Ignacio one) – completely opposite direction.

Note the pink travelling companion waiting to hit the road…