Late, blasted north across the massive Rio de Plata by aggressive winds, wet and packed into a station wagon Avis surely wouldn´t claim as its own, we arrived Punta late yesterday afternoon.
Our estancia hosts-to-be, Jasja´s parents, came for breakfast this morning. Jasja´s father, a distinguished, supremely accomplished player of the world´s business games, scoffed at our breakfast of coffee and baguettes. The fussy pouring of meuseli over yogurt.
Fixing R´s little cup of coffee in his stern gaze, Raymond announced:
"On the estancia, we´ll teach you to drink mate."
R pursed his lips (having tasted the bitter brew at Cin and Ian´s).
"The gauchos eat no vegetables, have no breakfast - only mate," he continued. "You´ll try when you arrive, so we can separate the men from the boys..."
C - intimidated/fascinated to meet horse-wrangling tea drinkers
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