6th April 2024

Perched on our bed in the city of Corrientes, capital of the province of Corrientes, North-East Argentina, witnessing our first sub-tropical storm. The rain started around 45 minutes ago, and already streams of water are flowing down either side of the road, taking any loose drabs or leaves with them. The air is sticky and humid, the thunder sudden and booming, and the smell earthy and pungent. It's definitely the perfect night to stay in and recover from our 24 hours of travel, but will we make it out tomorrow? Who knows? All I can say is that I’m certainly glad we went to the supermarket earlier…

3rd May 2024

We have a sort of Mother here now, María Cecilia Sanchez, a french teacher at the institute who randomly invited us over for lunch with her ex husband Juan Carlos, son Juan José (JuanJo for short) and his girlfriend Sofia. Cecilia and JuanJo live in the small but charming apartment with two cats. Cecilia prepared us a feast, shouting “Evie!”, “Arthur!” every five minutes, to come and see what she was preparing, while JuanJo and Sofia offered us ‘fernet and cola’, a popular combo in Argentina but perhaps not for me.

We started with surubí, a river catfish, prepared milanesa style with a squirt of lemon and cassava fries. It was to die for. With no plates we all dug in, and it was clarified to me that it's not the custom here to wait for everyone to start eating. 

For main we had a wooden, ginormous bowl of Mbaipu, a stew of polenta, melted cheese, chicken and sweet potato. It was hearty, delicious and I finished the whole bowl. For dessert,Dulce de Mamón,a small citrus fruit cooked in sugar for many hours. The family were kind, and we spoke a mix of Spanish, French and English. Cecilia loved talking about her trip around France and to London. She snorted loudly when she laughed, mocked our spanish sounding gracias and wanted to lend me all of her books to take home. 

15th May 2024

So what's the city of Corrientes really like? It’s in the middle of nowhere and you’ve probably never heard it, why would you? The humidity is tortuous in the summer months, with tropical storms bringing the only relief, but their own set of problems like flooding. The streets are lined with palm trees, lapachos and citrus trees, and it’s divided into blocks. If we want to go into the centre or to the coast we walk from our street to the dual carriageway, 5 de Abril. It’s strange how a motorway is also another street, lined with shops and cafes on each side. Yet there's no kind of pedestrian crossing.

If we make it to the other side we can pick a street name: San Juan, La Rioja, Salta, Buenos Aires, Tucuman or San Luis. These streets will all take us to some part of the centre, and if we keep going, the coast. As someone with pitiful navigational skills, I do enjoy the simplicity of it.

One must always be alert as they navigate the pavement. For it can change in an instant from colonial tiling to rubble and mud. The city centre hosts a shopping strip of cheap wholesale stores where you can find anything and everything. There are also friendly men with fruit carts swarmed by flies every four to five blocks. Between six and ten at night this area is animated by families, teenagers and couples, a thermos tucked under one arm and maté in the other.

The coast is beautiful, the Paraná puts any kind of English river to shame. It is vast, always flowing and it glistens later on in the day. When the sun has set here but not yet in Chaco on the other side, the horizon is blood red and apocalyptic. We often see this when we visit Cumba Cua park on a sunday night, drawn out like other citizens by the artisan fair. 

Catholicism is everywhere you look, and from what I’ve gathered the people here are generally quite conservative. A lovely couple we stayed with in a village called Goya seemed surprised that we followed no religion. What gives this culture its charm is this mixture of catholic belief with customs and language from Gaurani. This is the indigenous group that lived in these lands before Jesuit Missionaries arrived. They lived off the paraná, eating mainly fish and land mammals. They grew corn, sweet potato, mandioca, and of course drank maté. While catholicism eventually prevailed over the Guarani religion, many wives tales and remedies are still used. For instance, if you’re suffering in the heat, put a towel over your head with a glass of water balanced on top. Or if you want good weather make a cross from flour in the corner of your house.

30th May 2024 - I trip to Caá Catí

After regretfully shutting the dogs out, we took the time to recharge our social batteries until 10:30pm came. By this time the air was chilly and we walked out to find a group of students huddled inside the grilling area, while Mickey (the teacher’s husband) had a ton of chorizo sausages on the go. We sat on wooden chairs, making space as more and more people shuffled into the tiny area. A student called Jonatán had brought his guitar, and began to play ‘Can’t help falling in love with you’ by Elvis, then some local chamame songs in Spanish. 

The sausages were ready, bread was cut, lemon squeezed and mayo drizzled, not to mention copious amounts of beer and coca cola served in a welcoming chaos. Our first ever choripan was divine, and we ate three or four, but the asadador (barbecuer) was modest and shrugged our praise off with a smile.

As the evening went on we all chatted and laughed while Pancho and his gang (the collective dogs of the village) shuffled around with their puppy dog eyes receiving strokes and bits of meat if they were lucky. Latin American hospitality is truly beyond comparison.

16th June 2024

Cecilia invited us to have Merienda with her on El Dia de la Cruz de Los Milagros (The Day of The Miracle Cross), a religious holiday in Corrientes. Then when the day came she offered us to come for lunch instead, she was making milanesas again, and I couldn’t say no.

When we arrived it was just Cecilia. And she was excited like last time as she showed us what she was cooking while we set the table. It was Beef Milanesa, Mash, Salad and a special rice grown in the region. We discussed our weeks and future plans, then she insisted we do our washing there and gave me a special cream for my dry skin (that I later realised she’d bought especially).

Then we set off for our walk and Cecilia explained the meaning behind the celebration. It goes something like this…

On the banks of the Paraná river the Guarani people were defending their land from the Spanish. They started a great fire to stop them from coming ashore, and amidst the fire stood a cross placed by Jesuits. Astonishingly the wooden cross did not burn, and this was seen as a sign of peace and reconciliation between the groups.

The church was packed with citizens of all ages who watched as towns and villages from the surrounding area brought idols of the Virgin Mary carried upon their shoulders. Cecilia had no hesitation in barging in and out of everyone as she led us to the front of the church so we could get a photo in front of the cross. I couldn’t help but get the giggles. She bought us a magnet each as a souvenir, before we went out to watch the procession in full swing. Scouts and other local groups formed hands to form a barrier, while we watched and clapped at the numerous idols and shouted “Arriba!”. Finally, they brought the famous cross and everyone joined the back of the procession which would go through the rest of the city.

The question in our minds was ‘where is Cecilia taking us now?’ as we made our way through side streets until stopping outside a tiny local bakery. She bought a gigantic bag of chipás (a local cheesy bread) and we ended the day with a merienda (afternoon snack) of chipás and local tea, before Cecilia packed us a bag of tea bags and rice to take home.

All we could think as we walked home, bellies full of cheesy bread, that for a woman that was not particularly well-off, Cecilia gave anything she could, and so much kindness to two foreigners she hardly knew. We would soon realise that this was not a one-off in Corrientes.