18 Febr 2026  Living at La Aurora

There is something about living on a farm.  It is not just about being there, it is about inhibiting the space, of becoming one with the buildings, the trees, the birds, the people, the pets, the garden, the animals, the night sky – every day and night, aware and mindful of all that surrounds you.  And that is what La Aurora, Enca’s farm, meant to me.  I was sad to leave two days ago, I think a little bit of me stayed behind – La Aurora takes what it wants, but gives so much in return.

On the first day of work, I helped Enca clear out some grass and unwanted plants in the vegetable garden, while Louanne and Vincent (the French volunteers) started cleaning and scraping the wrought iron burglar bars that had to be repainted for the first time in 50 years.  Enca went to town to buy paint and brushes, and returned in a state of shock after discovering the full extent of the job she was undertaking.  First of all, the rust converter (red) had to be painted on when it was below 22° (two coats) and left to dry for 3 hours between layers.  Then the black enamel had to be done in two coats as well, allowing a day for drying between coats.  After a serious discussion and lots of mate, we agreed that we would all work on the burglar bars, start at 6 am and finish at 10 am, before it got too warm, and do only one coat of red.   Too bad about the vegetable garden, that would have to wait.  (Enca did some work there in the afternoons, and planted three fruit trees that she was hoping would survive.)

We managed to finish 10 of the 25 windows in the 8 days that we worked, and Enca reckoned the French couple would one day have to send their children and grandchildren to help, as she would still be at it, scraping and painting burglar bars…! One tremendous advantage of working on such a big project, was that we shared mate every morning.  That first sip on the first day was like coming home – Argentina at it’s best!

Finishing work at 10 am meant that the rest of the day was spent lazing around – for us anyway, not Enca, she hardly ever stopped working.  I would go for a swim, lie on the lawn, read, knit, cook, eat, sleep, go for a walk, and share life experiences in long chats, repeating it all in any order.   I did make rusks, which Enca decided is a perfect match for mate.

Cooking was the main activity late afternoon, and we all took turns in preparing a meal.  We had the Spanish tortilla I mentioned in the previous blog,  galettes (a typical dish from Brittany,  France), vegetarian lasagne, crepes, polenta with vegetables, homemade pasta with sauce, and a chicken stew cooked on a “disco” (ploughshare/ploegskaar) on an open fire, aptly called “pollo al disco” (chicken cooked on a disc).  Enca explained that the gauchos all carried one on their horses, and they would use horse manure to make a fire and cook a stew on it, using anything they could find in the vicinity.   It was quite dark when we eventually sat down to eat at the table outside, and we were amused by a visiting friend who kept on using his cellphone light to see what he was eating.  He only spent one night there, not long enough to adjust to farm life. 

And so the days passed.  A friend of Enca’s, Sabrina, came to visit, and she happily donned her old farm clothes that she kept there as she was a regular visitor, and helped with the painting.  We had many in-depth conversations, rediscovering the power of  women as we shared our stories, listening, commenting and supporting each other with unconditional caring.  A gift that was given to me by Enca, was the following:  “Remember, it is yóúr experience.”  (Which I gladly share with all of you that are supporting me in this venture.)

The birdlife was exceptional, and I managed to photograph a few, but my cellphone doesn’t do justice to them. Ones that I got to see include the Monk Parakeet, Chalk-browed Mockingbird (that makes the sound of a reversing truck), Chimango Caracara (sounds like a dog whining, most upsetting at first), Southern Crested Caracara, Burrowing Owl (a small little owl), Greater Rhea (looks like an emu), Whistling Heron, and of course my favourite, the Great Kiskadee (nicknamed the ‘bicho feoo’ because of the sound it makes, like a Piet-my-Vrou, which sounds to me like ‘beat your fear’).  

One evening we attended a get-together that was arranged by Andrea, a friend of Enca’s, who had opened up a shop specializing in local produce and other goods.  As usual, everyone greeted everyone else with the traditional hug and kiss on the right cheek, and I was immediately made to feel welcome.  There was a band and a singer, evidently the local hairdresser, who sang a lot of familiar English songs too, with people joining in.  It was fun to see families with children – I miss my grandchildren.  

The sunsets were glorious, as we’re the stars at night.   One feels so insignificant when looking up, realizing that one is seeing the same stars that are visible in South Africa, which goes to show how enormous the universe is and how small we are.