Saturday night was Noche de Brujas for most but party time in Cafayate. An unusual occurence - in fact NEVER before have over a hundred Americans descended on the town at the same time - an event deemed worthy of coverage by journos from the NY Times, Daily Telegraph and Mail on Sunday. (Since when do journos get to stay at the most expensive hotel in town, or even the continent - Patios is over $500US a night - for an 800 word piece. What recession?)
They weren't however writing about the impact of the group on the town's infrastructure nor on my social life, but on the property and financial appeal for investors. The Estancia de Cafayate is on the outskirts of town, a little way down Ruta 40 and then a long way down a drive through vineyards to the estate. The property is beautifully surrounded on all sides by mountains, the vineyards and then the Bob Cupp designed golf course. I know nothing about golf and don't care to but apparently he is up there. The million dollar clubhouse looks like - a million bucks, it is all incredibly lovely but currently it is the sole construction on the estate. For the last two years people have been buying plots of land but as yet no houses have been built.
Cafayate is a two or three day journey from the real world. As one woman said to me - Are we going to leave Napa and our subscription to the ballet to come down here? But financial guru Doug Casey told his followers to buy for profit and so they did. Now the town is holding its breath to see whether the Estancia will bring good things in the form of paved streets maybe. People are expecting a massive boom for 'the Palm Springs' of Argentina.
The wine flowed from the hands of bow-tied waiters. Large bottles of Johnnie Black lined the bar. White leater sofas edged the grass dance floor under thousands of fairy lights. It was all really magical and if I was an investing person I would have been seduced by the magic of the mountains.
Way after midnight the locals, the journos and a few of the Americans left standing took the courtesy bus back into the pueblo and went to Nanta - a club with good music - the unico in Cafayate. The young man who had raved all night at the Estancia causing everyone to comment 'I want what he's on' promptly passed out. The journos went into a huddle to plan their next luxury working holiday and I danced, as I alway do. I had been escorted by the young man who had been trailing me for a few hours and then the stalkers arrived. One of my psych books informs me that men have a psychological imprint on their brains from cavemen times that prevents him from stealing another man's woman on pain of being clubbed to death. Well maybe we haven't yet reached the paleolithic era in Argentina.
I was surrounded by men who all were intent on sleeping with me even though the young Tucamano had been staking his claim for a while, they weren't bothered. I was fending off two when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I looked down to see the son of a bodega owner who asked me why I had never returned after my tasting. I explained. He asked me again. And again. They will keep asking the same question until they get the answer they want. He told me he was taking me to dinner the next day.
Later I was outside with the claimant and the bodega boy came and stood by the table. And just stood there glaring at me. Finally I said 'Que' and he glared some more but said nothing, possibly wondering whether the claimant was in possession of a large club. He waddled off down the road trailed by a dejected fat woman. This country is never going to change until woman stop accepting this kind of falta de respeto. Who stands there silently while her boyfriend aggresively hits on someone else?
The claimant and I went back inside. A woman was throwing me daggers as though it was my fault that one of the stalkers was using her in an attempt to get my attention. I had noticed her start a little whispering campaign earlier. Ladies - Other women are not the enemy! We need to stop right now letting men use us by inciting our sense of competition with each other. We are not stuck in the cave.
An exceptionally cute pibe passed close to me. 'You are surrounded tonight' he whispered (right under the claimant's nose) 'but when you are free I would like to get to know you more.' I have seen him around town. He told me he was 21. I told him I don't like being trapped in the age box. He looked me up and down and put me at 31. Hey - it was dark.
Eventually the claimant walked me around the corner to my house. I wouldn't unlock the gate. He couldn't understand how I had such a large house by myself - surely I must have a man! He was becoming beligerent because he wanted what he decided he should have and wasn't interested in my point of view. This behaviour always puts me on the edge of madness. I do not want to go to bed with men I have met a few hours before - No matter how much Torrontes or Caipirinhas I have laid down. They won't listen. They start bullying and telling you that you are wrong. How can my decisions about who to share my body with be wrong?
My hairdresser here tells me you have to not be friendly or chatty with an Argentine because they will think that's a cue for more. A Cordobesa tells me that it's my fault for smiling at them when they talk to me. Is this why the Argentine woman is so icy? There is a grave lack of joie de vivre for a South American country. Maybe I should move to Brazil.
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