WATCH: Veronica joins in the traditional dances! See some awesome “Race for the Ring” action
Carrera de Sortija, or Race of the Ring, at Feria de Mataderos
The name means slaughterhouse.
So to celebrate that tradition and preserve many of the customs of the gauchos, who we would call cowboys, a Sunday afternoon get together has been held every weekend since 1986.
This has grown into a huge event known as the Feria de Mataderos.
Thousands of people come from miles around to enjoy the food, music, crafts, and particularly the feats of skill demonstrated by the gauchos.
As soon as we learned about the fair we knew that we would be joining them.
Even though hardly any tourists make the trip out, a friendly gentleman on the the bus seemed to sense where we were headed and pointed out the stop for us to get off.
Then after walking a few blocks the sound of music and smell of food filled the air.
We began by browsing the rows of vendors selling anything and everything and, of course, cooking meat.
Some char-broiled chorizo caught our eyes and, with sausages in hand, we were fully engaged.
Yes sir, that is what a fair is all about.
At a square where three streets filled with long rows of booths and stands met, a stage served as the focal point for the festivities.
A master of ceremonies made announcements and introductions, and at least half a dozen bands performed through the afternoon and into the evening.
The crowd broke into both impromptu and traditional dances.
At one point one of the participants, in full gaucho garb, snagged Veronica by the arm and suddenly she was whirling around in fine cowgirl style.
Much different from the tangos back in town.
Just off the square we found a museum on the history of Mataderos, Museo Criollo de los Corrales.
The displays included photos from the early days of the livestock markets and some household items from long ago, but mostly featured the tools of the trade of the cowboys.
For a minimal fee, about fifty cents if memory serves, we were handed a ticket to view the numerous outfits, saddles, spurs, guns, knives, ropes, wagons, and even a horse in the collection.
And, of course, because we were in Buenos Aires, dancing.
Even with all of the gaucho culture we had absorbed up to this point, the day’s highlight was still ahead.
We could hardly wait to make our way to the closed-off street where horses and riders were engaged in a competition of speed and precision.
But on our way we got slightly sidetracked.
Somehow we wandered into the candyland section of the fair and it simply wasn’t possible to pass through without having a taste or two.
Among the mountains of chocolate and sugary baked goods something stood out… candied fruit on a stick… with popcorn!
That’s right, strawberries, kiwis, oranges, apples, and bananas skewered, then sugar coated and dipped in popcorn.
Veronica must have died and gone to heaven, because if there’s two things she can’t resist it’s food on-a-stick and popcorn.
When she spotted one with figs we thought we were going to have to call in the paramedics.
Luckily she survived with only minor heart palpitations and we could continue on.
After our snack, it was time for the main attraction, Carrera de Sortija, meaning Race of the Ring.
This traditional gaucho sport is only found in the area around Buenos Aires and on the Mediterranean islands of Menorca and Sardinia.
A small ring, about the size of a wedding band, is suspended about ten feet high between two poles.
The object of the game is to grab that ring, using a pencil sized metal rod, while riding at a full gallop.
Needless to say, accomplishing the task is rare.
We found a spot near the poles to watch and before we knew it horse and rider were thundering toward us at top speed.
As he neared the ring the gaucho stood in his stirrups and reached high with his tiny spear, then seemingly miraculously snatched the ring from the hook, bringing well deserved cheers from the crowd.
Perhaps he had beginner’s luck, or more likely skill, but it was many more runs before we saw another gaucho celebrate.
Each time we could feel the crowd’s, and our own, excitement rise with the rider as he approached the ring, then deflate with the miss.
But as the competition went on most every gaucho managed at least one successful run.
By the end we had lost track of which gauchos had multiple triumphs, so we couldn’t tell who the winner was, but no one seemed to care too much anyway.
Everyone was more than happy just to have been a part of it.
We felt the same.
So we declared ourselves the winners and set out to find the bus back into the city.
David & Veronica, GypsyNester.com