09 Febr 2026  Sarie’s collapse

My host at my new Workaway job gave me an apt description when I told her the sad story of Sarie’s collapse.  “Disgracia con suerte”, meaning “misfortune with luck”.  It is a long story.

I was pulling Sarie along in the street for the first time since I had started travelling.  I couldn’t decide whether I should take the bus or subway to the bus terminal from where I was leaving for Azul – uncertainty is a bad thing.  Halfway to the bus station, which is in the middle of Avenue 9 de Julio, the 14-lane street in Buenos Aires that is the widest in the world, I changed my mind and decided I would rather take the subway.  As I stepped onto one of the middle lanes to backtrack, Sarie decided to collapse – one of the wheels came off.  I picked it up, turned Sarie onto the good wheels and quickly pulled her to the pavement across a few lanes.  When I got to the subway entrance, it was closed for maintenance, and I realised I would not be able to drag poor crippled Sarie back accross 9 de Julio, or anywhere, for that matter.  I looked around desperately, not knowing what to do, fully realising I had only one hour before catching the bus to Azul.  Miracles do happen:  there was a luggage shop right next to me!  I bought a new suitcase, and had the good fortune that it was slightly bigger than Sarie, which had of course been much too crammed.  I transferred the contents of Sarie right there in the middle of the shop, with the friendly owner helping me to put the safari cover back on, which still fit.  Her ring must have slipped off then, because when I took the cover off on the farm, a ring fell onto the floor.  I will return it to her when I go back to BA.  Sarie was promptly disposed of in a nearby dumpster.  Poor Sarie, but welcome Suerte.

Now I am on a farm, 20km from Azul, for my first Workaway job.  I couldn’t have found a better place.  It is called La Aurora, which means ‘The Dawn’, a very apt description.  The farm was established by the owner’s grandparents, who were not farmers by profession, but the grandfather, being Irish, decided one had to develop land when one inherited it.  The current owner, Enca, is a journalist who, like her grandfather, decided that if one inherits something, one tends to it.  She spent many years restoring the old colonial homestead, and now she runs a guesthouse, farms with cattle, has about 20 sheep, 5 chickens and a beautiful garden. 

My work here is going to be to help clear out the vegetable patch and prepare it for planting winter veggies, such as asparagus,  broccoli and other things.  Enca has a knack for growing trees from seeds, and has cultivated many magnolia and other trees, which she uses to exchange produce or plants with friends.  Neighbours are friendly, and this morning Enca received a whole cheese  from a man who helps her on the farm.  He has dairy cows, and his wife makes the cheese.  Evidently the smaller farmers have taken to cheese-making to supplement their income.  The beauty about this gift, is that Enca had tried to buy cheese on Saturday when she fetched us from the bus station, but the cheese shop she normally buys from, was closed. 

Enca has many bees, and on the first morning promptly took out the largest container of honey I have ever seen.  And of course, a Latin saying to go with it: “una apis, nulla apis” which means “one bee, no bee”, or as Enca described it, “one bee cannot do anything on it’s own, it means nothing”. 

Yesterday was Sunday, and Enca explained that she had to attend a Cathholic mass at a monastry, La Trappa, about 1 hour’s drive from here, as she had to say thank you for rain that she had prayed for a while back.  I felt shivers run down my spine, as I too wanted to say thank you for the rain that had fallen in the Garden Route, which had been suffering a terrible drought. 

The land in this area is very flat, and I was excited to see some hills as we approached the monastry, which is closer to the east coast.

On the way back, we stopped to photograph some iron figures that had been built from old trains, depicting the clashes between the Spanish and indigenous people.  The artist had lived in Azul for a few years, and there are some figures there too which I will photograph when I go to town. 

Last night was a perfect night for eating on the lawn, a little away from the light, as there are quite a few bugs around.  And frogs.

There are two other volunteers, from France, and the girl, Louanne, likes to cook.   Last night Enca said that we were having the last Argentinian meal, as we would be eating French food from now on.  Louanne made a Spanish tortilla (!) this afternoon, and was very successful in turning it without breaking it.  There was much talk about it having to be “baveux”, which means the eggs still have to be soft.  It was perfectly “baveux”!