Letter from Villa Carlos Paz

Kirin Woodvine

I’ve recently been fortunate enough to partake in a fortnight long Human Rights based volunteer project in Córdoba, Argentina.

This was an experience I’ll remember forever, I met some of the most amazing people and did things I felt really made a difference.

There are a lot of things from this trip I could write about, every day was special, but I’ve chosen to recount my favourite experience; a trip to Villa Carlos Paz on a day off from our work.

We wake early, as always, too early for my liking, still suffering from jetlag and sleep deprivation from my long journey here. Dani is outside, early as usual, with the rest of the group. We wait on the street outside our host’s house for the bus, it comes rattling along.

Climbing on, we rush for any available seats. It’s busy, most of us end up standing, gripping onto poles for fear of falling.

Bus rides here are usually bumpy, smooth roads being basically nonexistent in Córdoba, and drivers make a habit of starting and stopping as quickly as possible, flinging any poor soul over who fails to hold on tight enough.

Once at the coach station, being teenagers, we naturally gravitate towards the sweet store. All returning with bags of our wares, my friend Erik shares a tub of frozen chocolate raspberries with me as we wait for the coach.

When it arrives, I sit next to Ruby, a wonderfully funny girl from Australia. We share some disappointingly unsour sweets before putting in my earphones, choosing some music and falling asleep, sinking in the deep green seats.

Ski lift

The bus stop is just a short walk from Complejo Aerosilla, a huge mountain that towers over the rest of Carlos Paz, with a ski lift to get to the top. This seems rather imposing, and being afraid of heights, I’m not particularly enthralled by the prospect of having to go up the lift. I do so anyway and am immediately taken aback by how peaceful it is.

Despite being winter, it is a very hot day and Ruby and I bask in the sunlight on the trip up that seems to last a lifetime. Ruby, being unfortunately ill, is not having as great a time as me, and we make some small talk as we slowly ascend the mountain.

After being yanked out of the seats at the top, I stumble off a little disorientated and try to gather myself. Then I look up and stop, taken aback. The whole city can be seen from here, tiny houses forming together in one big pack, covering as far as the eye can see. Huge green mountains have sprung up from either side that I previously hadn’t noticed.

The sunlight catches every surface, making it look as though the city is sparkling. It’s all rather poetic. I’m reminded of Consti Hill in Aberystwyth, somewhere I have visited many times. Although decently smaller, overlooking a town rather than a city, it gives me a similar feeling – awe. It’s strange how something worlds away from what I know could feel so familiar.

Then the photographing ensues, one girl brought a camera, so everyone is taking photos: solos, duos, group shots. After taking a few myself, I choose to observe the others, watching the sunlight shine on them as they pose and direct one another, trying to get the perfect pictures for their Instagram. The boys seem to grow bored of this photoshoot. These photos turn out beautifully, so it was worthwhile, though Erik and Dani may disagree. After about a half hour, everyone is satisfied so we go for lunch.

We have lunch on the balcony, eating sandwiches and sharing lemonade in the heat. Ruby, still awfully ill, buys and drinks several more bottles of water (we later discovered that her symptoms could all be attributed to water poisoning – whoops!) After eating, we descend the mountain, peacefully taking in the landscape, watching the city skyline disappear slowly.

Then we visit the shops on the street leading to the Aerosilla, beautiful stores in large hut-like buildings selling a peculiar mix of things like cosmetics, other very westernised things and traditional Argentinian things like mate cups and souvenirs. I purchase a pair of earrings and a gift for my Nan, a notebook with a tree outline carved from wood on the front.

Gelato

While walking back through the city, we manage to convince Dani to take us to get gelato (in actuality, he did not take much convincing, as he also wanted some). This was good news to us, as by now we were all feeling the effects of the heat, a very alien concept to me as an English person. After struggling for some time in the shop, and consulting Erik, whose Spanish is much better than mine, I pick cereza (cherry) and frambuesa (raspberry). This gelato, although needed, is far too sweet and nothing in comparison to one I had earlier in the week.

As we continue our walk back, there’s many things that catch my attention. Looking through shop windows, I observe the differences between the products here and back home. I also read signs everywhere, trying to translate them, largely unsuccessfully as Spanish is not my strong point. There are bright flashing signs on some stores, large colourful ones, mostly on sweet stores and the like. Another photo opportunity arises while on a beautiful bridge over the river.

Sunlight glistens over the water and we stand together while Dani takes pictures. I don’t remember much of the day after this, other than collapsing into the coach shortly after and falling asleep once again.

At the time, although I appreciated the beauty of my trip, I don’t think I realised just how treasured a memory this would become for me. It’s something that was truly magical and I am so privileged to have been able to have this amazing experience. Adios Carlos Paz, thank you.

Kirin Woodvine is an A-level student studying Law, History and Business.