Make like a gaucho

Wednesday, 5th November 2008

Rachel Ward takes on the Penelope Cruz lookalikes and enjoys a horseback tour of scenic Patagonia

Have I mentioned our hosts? The rides began and ended with a home-stay in an estancia (ranch). Fortunately for the rest of us, farming returns aren’t what they were. The combination of meagre pickings for cattle in the high altitudes of Patagonia and the rule of equal division of property on death has meant increasingly smaller land holdings and forced many stock and land barons to diversify into tourism. Many estancias now welcome fishermen, birdwatchers, trekkers and riders.

The best thing about these accommodations is their simple authenticity. Although very comfortable and stylish, there are, mercifully, no concessions to the usual tourist expectations. The water takes its time to heat, there are no double basins, no mobile phone reception, no gym, no minibars, no menu choices and occasionally shared showers. Expect personal photos on the walls, family pets that sit on your feet, shared meals under weeping oak trees, the smell of smoke in your hair and a lot of megabytes, not to mention fantasies, wasted on the movie star looks and charm of our intrepid leader, Jakob. Way too cool (not to mention old) to succumb to five-day stubble and a lilting accent, my girlfriend and I defiantly resisted his charms until he rode with his dog perched in front of his saddle and we learned that he spoke five languages fluently.

Finally, the romance of Buenos Aires shopping! Suffice to say that entering the arrivals concourse at Sydney airport, dressed in black sombrero, a patterned poncho, waving madly and pushing three suitcases (when I’d left with only one) my husband, mistaking me for some insane Patagonian gypsy, didn’t recognise me until I’d all but run him over. And despite the Penelope Cruz makeover, he wasn’t very enthusiastic about all the shopping either or my plans for tango lessons or my new barbecuing instructions, and even less so about the very expensive pink cummerbund I bought him. Bugger him! In my dreams I’m joining the panting league of single gals and following Jakob and his dog to the vast expanses of untouched Maasai land in Kenya where another riding holiday awaits.

Given our recent economic meltdown, it’s more likely I will sit tight and cross my fingers that Baz Luhrmann’s Australia offers a blueprint for tourist operators on how to get the romance factor right in Australia. Hugh Jackman lookalikes (with Blue Heeler pup up front) need apply, Paul Hogan and ya fricken shrimps on a barbie in a suburban backyard need not.