Sunday was my host-grandma’s birthday, and after church, we went over to her place to celebrate. She is a wonderful lady with a beautiful house full of old books on theology and politics. As Victoria cooked, the house also filled with the smell of delicious bread.
As we talked before lunch, we passed mate (pronounced mah-tay), which is an herb that is mixed with very hot water in a gourd and then sucked through a metal or wood straw with a filter at the bottom. It’s very bitter and smoky, and normally I can’t stand it. But this time it was more palatable, and so I became part of the mate circle, which is very important in Argentine culture. Many people walk around with thermoses, and drink mate all day long. More importantly, at almost any meeting or social gathering, someone will bring mate and pass it to each person, one at a time. When they’re done, they say “gracias” and passes it back to be refilled and passed to the next person. It’s a very peaceful practice. I’m told that even if there is a disagreement at a meeting, there is still the friendly undercurrent of the mate, which is being passed among friends. It’s an act of community, and therefore I felt honored to be invited and included on Sunday.
And then the main course: my first Argentine asado. For an asado, you build a wood fire, place a grill over top, and then throw as much meat as will fit. And let it cook until it’s smoky and juicy and delicious. It was delicious, and every time I thought I was done eating, they would bring in another round from the grill—and somehow I would find room.
As we ate, we shared jokes. Here are a few favorites:
A man walks into a bar and orders three drinks. The bartender serves him, he drinks each one, and then walks out. This continues for about a week until the bartender finally asks him what it’s all about. The man responds: “This one here is for my brother, who’s in London. And this one here is for my brother in New York. This one is for me, and this way, even though we’re far apart, it’s like we can share a drink.” This keeps up for a few months, with the man stopping in each day after work. One day, he walks in and orders two drinks. Worried, the bartender asks, “Did something happen to one of your brothers?” “No, they’re fine,” replies the man. “It’s just that I’ve decided to quit drinking.”
Another:
A cowboy sits drinking in a bar. Suddenly, someone bursts in and says, “Hey, Joe! Your horse is getting away!” He gets up and runs to the door, but then realizes, “Wait a second. I ain’t got a horse.” So he goes back to his drink. About fifteen minutes later, someone else bursts in and says, “Hey Joe! Your father died!” Again he gets up and runs to the door, but then realizes, “Wait a second, I ain’t got a father.” He goes back to his drink, and about fifteen minutes later, someone bursts in and says, “Hey Joe! You won the lottery!” So he jumps up, runs to the door, and then stops as he realizes: “Wait a second… My name’s not Joe!”
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