Mucho mud.

In the Valleys, the rain has taken its toll.

San Martín, Salta Province, Argentina

March 5th, 2025

Sunset over the river.

“Mucho mud.”

- Bill Bonner

Dear Reader,

Back at San Martín, the river is high. Muddy brown water flows along at a quick pace.

When we arrived on Monday afternoon, we realized that we’d forgotten to ask one of the workers to drive my car out so it would be waiting for us at the bridge. Monday and Tuesday this week were feriados - holidays - because of Carnival. Everyone was enjoying time off.

No matter. We left our bags and walked the thirty minutes back to the house. After the bumpy, gravelly drive along Ruta Nacional 40, it was good to stretch our legs.

At the sala - the main house - the mud, now dried, was gathered into mounds to be collected by the tractors.

The mud will be gathered by the tractors and dumped somewhere.

The rain has had some good effects. All is green. The corn is high. The peppers, cultivated by our sharecroppers, are bright red and almost ready to be picked.

The peppers.

We spent the weekend in Cafayate, a touristy town about a three and a half hour drive from Salta City.

It was lunchtime when we pulled in on Saturday. We ate at the café next door to the house where we usually stay, right on the main drag.

In the evening, we’d been invited to an owners event at La Estancia de Cafayate, a private resort which my dad and a few others founded some years back.

The property has a spa and gym, a polo field, a vineyard, a clubhouse, a hotel, and a golf course. Most of the owners only live there part of the year, but there are a few who stay year round.

The polo field at La Estancia de Cafayate, when we went last year to see the polo tournament.

“If you ever decide to build a house here”, said one of the attendees. “my advice is to go with a big company out of Salta. The small companies here will take twice as long to finish, and the bill will be twice as long too.”

“My wife and I rented a house while we were building ours.”, chimed in a neighbor. “We didn’t let a day go by that we didn’t go check on the job site and make sure everything was the way we wanted it.”

“Our folks back home think we’re like millionaires.”, he went on. “Of course we’re not, but it’s so affordable here to have help in the house, and a nanny and a gardener.”.

There were a few Argentines at the event but most everyone was a gringo; either from the U.S.A or Canada.

A band called Silver Day played classics like Fields Of Gold, Always On My Mind and other folk and rock tunes.

There was wine from La Estancia’s own stock, and cocktails. Chicken wings and empanadas were passed around by the staff.

Back in Cafayate, the town was teeming with people. Restaurants, coffee shops, ice cream parlours, bars and nightclubs were bursting.

Practically all night, the sound of “boom boom music” as my dad would say, filled the air.

Suffering from little sleep, we walked like zombies through the streets the next day, looking for respite from the frantic activity of the Carnival.

We visited a private home, converted into an art gallery and hotel by the Lávaque family. José Fortunato Lávaque arrived in Argentina from Lebanon in the 19th century and settled in Cafayate, the most booming town in Salta Province at that time. He set up a winery, which has been successfully handed down from generation to generation.

La Vieja Posada, owned by the Lávaque family.

La Vieja Posada, the hotel.

More to come.

Abrazos,

Mariah