The land around here
from the train appears to be a dry, salty country, devoid of herbage,
and only valuable on account of the excellent forest trees and timber.
Our morning meal was taken in the station waiting-room (the only
restaurant in the town), and consisted of cold coffee and what the
Argentine understands by boiled eggs, which have in reality been in
boiling water half a minute, and which, in order to eat, one has to tip
into a wine-glass and beat up with a fork, adding pepper and salt, etc.
This is the general way of eating eggs in South America; an egg cup is
one of the few things one cannot get in the country without going to an
English store in Buenos Aires.
Leaving Vera at 8 a.m. the train goes at a snail's pace along the branch
line to Reconquista, covering the distance of about thirty leagues in
five hours. Arriving there in the sweltering midday heat, we were met by
an English friend and his capataz, the latter dressed in his enormous
slouch hat, deerskin apron, and silver spurs weighing probably a full
kilo.
One cannot help noticing at once the different type of natives; from the
slow, slouching, don't-care kind of men, which one sees in Cordoba and
Southern Santa Fe, to the quick, straight, hawk-eyed half-Indian
Chaquenos.
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