After I took two weeks of intensive Spanish classes in Buenos Aires I had a three week break before my hospital internship started. I had toyed with the idea of going to Easter Island instead, but before I left the good ol USA I knew that mountains of southern Patagonia were calling my name. All that was left to do was to get there.
The forty hour bus ride from Buenos Aires to El Calafate would make some people cringe just at the thought, but Nick and I (my travel buddy that I met four days before leaving) took it head on. As much as I wanted to see Southern Patagonia, there was no way I was going to fork over $600 for a plane ticket when I could get a tour of Argentina by bus for a third of the cost. Little did I know that the pampas extend over a majority of the landscape, leaving us with the lovely sight of thick sagebrush that stretched to the horizon in both directions.
The food on the bus was... deliciously unique. By that I mean that I would rather have eaten a brick of cheese than eat that food. Anyone who knows me knows that I'm not a fan of the queso, so that's saying something. The first meal (dinner) was by far the most memorable, and for that I will share a little anecdote:
It started when the bus people came around and gave everyone a plastic lunch tray for their food. Another plastic tray sealed with our dinner inside quickly followed - and this is where the fun began. Before the ride we were joking that they were only going to give us a roll for dinner... well.. they gave us a roll, a slice of ham, and a slice of cheese. Starving, I massacared the food on the tray until the warm food was brought out. The mysterious tin foil container had me guessing what was inside, but nothing could have prepared me for the greased-soaked steak that I was about to discover. Apprehensively I finished it and moved on to what I thought was dessert. My choice of eating in the dark led me to believe that what I had saved for last was an individual sized pie - like the ones that you get in elementary school for the grand Thanksgiving Dinner that the school district kindly provides. To me, it looked like it was chocolate cream pie with frosting on top. I asked Nick if he had eaten his yet and he said, "No, but the meat here is supposed to be pretty good so go for it." ....uh... whaaaat? It didn't look like meat to me. I thought he was a little consfused so I asked the question again and he said he thought it was an empanada thing. Slowly, I reached for the light above my seat and pressed that little red button that would determine the fate of my dinner. click... click. click. click.... oops. That's the fan switch. Click. The light lit up my dinner tray with as much light as the recycled bus air would let through. The verdict? We were both wrong in our guesses. Unless Dr. Seuss was in the kitchen, this wasn't meat or dessert. It was green and chunky and looked like a pile of cow dung strategically placed in a mini pie crust to appear appetizing. Epic FAIL. Running the risk of being sick for the next 30 hours on the bus, I took a bite. My only reasoning was that since I paid for it I'd might as well try it. Bad decision. As I took a bite of the soggy crust filled with this mysterious flavor I began to sort through the many foods of my past to match it with a taste that seemed familiar. It didn't take long for me to land at a taste that all children know and few adults care to admit they've tried: grass. Yes. Grass. or weeds. Whichever you prefer, that's what it was. And the white stuff on top that I thought was whipped cream? It was rock hard cheese.
I've tried many foods since I've been here but I don't think this one is going to make it into the list of "Argentine Recipes to Remember."
My adventurous taste buds seem to have backfired on me in this particular instant, but worry not. I'll still be the one trying the mussels at the Shenanigan's Mother's Day brunch.
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