Becoming a Pantaneira

July 13, 2010.

This morning I braved the horses.  I’m not terribly fond of horses, but since this is technically a cattle farm with cowboys (known as pantaneiros in the Pantanal), it seemed the thing to do.

Thankfully they provided me with a nice, plodding horse that never even attempted to break into a trot.  For two hours we meandered through the landscape, switching from forest to savanah and back again.  The rain yesterday had heralded a cold front and it was very chilly indeed.  The mosquitoes and miscellaneous flying insects completely disappeared overnight.  The animals and birds were mostly huddled away from the cold and the ranch was silent but for the clopping of the horses hooves and the squeaking of the leather saddle as we sailed through the Pantanal on our humble steads.   There is a flowering plant that blooms in the dry season called acapeixe that the locals refer to as the scent of the Pantanal.  It is a sweet savory smell, something like a mixture of gardinia and thyme.

Inspired the horse riding in the morning, I took a ride into Miranda again with the shopping expedition.  Miranda is truly a cow-poke town.  It’s only reason for existing is to service the cattle farms nearby.  A new guide had arrived a couple of days ago and she is married to a cowboy in Campo Grande, so we sought out the local cowboy supply shop.  It had everything from boots and hats and chaps to snake bite anti-venom, machetes and spare parts for saddles.  I bought myself a pair of Brazilian cowboy boots and instantly developed the cowboy swagger.  It’s all in the boot!!!  It has a strange, rocking inset in the sole and the heel tends to come up at the back, so it more or less forces you to walk in a slow, deliberate way in order to keep them on your feet.  The rolling, slow, swaying gait of the pantaneros now makes sense.  I added a pair of Brazilian jeans, and now I’m feeling like a local.  Even the cowboys on the farm are now calling me “pantaneira”.

Too bad I don’t look like a local.  This is a very swarthy town.  And I’m rather blonde.  I was told that people around here don’t look like me, but I didn’t expect them to come out of shops to stare.  It’s a good thing I’m oblivious to such attention and it took someone else to point it out to me.  Oh well, now I have the proper cowboy swagger, the staring and pointing will surely stop.  Maybe I should keep a keen ear out for the mocking laughter to commence.

Maybe if I started drinking maté, that would help.  Maté is a form of tea that is very popular in South America.  In this part of Brazil, maté is drunk cold from a cows horn that has been flattened at one end to make a cup.  Really and truly, they sell these cow horns en-mass at the local supermarket.  Some are real horn, the cheaper ones are plastic.  In Southern Brazil it is drunk hot out of a gourd. 

July 16, 2010.

The cold snap continues.  It’s all over Brazil and while these cold fronts usually only last two or three days, this one is hanging around longer and colder than usual.  Because this part of the world is warm or hot 95% of the time, it’s not prepared for the cold weather.  The house is geared for heat.  The dining room only has a fly screen that can be covered by plastic shutters to keep out the rain.  All the rooms have air conditioning but no heating.  The guests didn’t come prepared for the cold, so there is a lot of shivering going on and praying for the cold front to move on.

The animals and birds are also hiding away trying to keep warm.  I feel bad for a European family that flew in just as the rain started and have been shivering and seeing no animals since they got here.  The cold front is predicted to move on the day they leave.  It must be an expensive proposition to fly the whole family out to Brazil, but there is no predicting this weather.  A week ago we were swimming and sweating and slapping on the SFP50 sunscreen.

So there isn’t a whole lot going on at the farm at the moment except eating, huddling around the tea pot and taking the occasional shot of cachaca to keep warm.  It’s probably a good point to talk about the food here at the farm.

There is always cake.  There is a Brazilian tradition of making and serving homemade cakes that seems to  have died out in the rest of the world.  There are usually two fresh baked caked in the breakfast buffet, cake for afternoon tea and picnics, basically cake any time of day or night.  The desserts are also rather amazing.  They make a rich dolce de leite which is almost the consistency of toffee and it is served with either glaze/sugared pumpkin or the local mild farmer’s cheese.  Since it’s been cold, dessert has been a hot bowl of hominy boiled in milk and spiced with cinnamon and lemon.  A bit like rice pudding but with hominy instead of rice.

Lunch is served outside, in a covered cabana overlooking the river.  They light a fire in the barbeque and put the pots on top to keep them warm.  Lunch is the big meaty meal of the day.  Huge chunks for “carne de sol”, pots of beef and manioc stew,  rice and beans, baked pumpkin - always something different and hearty (with salads for the healthy types amongst us).

Dinner is served on the screened-in veranda overlooking the pond full of birds and caimen.  There is always soup - lentil, chicken, pirhana.  Last night they brought out a huge fish (maybe 2 feet long) from the Paraguay River.  The night before it was a rich chicken stew - rather like the insides of a chicken pot pie.

Everything is fresh and local.  The eggs are from a local family down the road.  The vegetables come from a co-operative in Miranda.  I’m going to have to try very hard not to get fat while I’m here.  I want to try everything.  So far my sense of propriety has stopped me from sampling the cake for breakfast, but I’m not sure how long my resolve (or my slender figure) will last.