A couple of months ago, my beloved mate (pronounced "MA-tay," for those unfamiliar with Spanish) "gourd" -- actually a cup of palo santo wood -- a gift from a friend who'd made a missions trip to Bolivia, cracked. This was due to gross negligence on my part: I, who had so carefully oiled it after each use, allowed it to sit for three days with wet mate leaves in the bowl. I paid the price.
Very sad. And being under severe budget constraints, I decided to wait awhile before getting a new one. I waited so long I almost forgot about my beloved beverage...until I read on Rica's blog how much she enjoyed her mate in the mornings. And then I could almost taste the mate dulce hot on my tongue, and almost cried from wanting it so badly.
It was she who introduced it to me in college -- most of our other friends made faces and rinsed their mouths out, declaring that it "tasted like the woods." Being a self-declared wood-nymph (and known to a few of the people who would later become my good friends as the weird Tree Girl -- I could be seen, from time to time, gathering leaves, collecting twigs, and, yes, throwing my arms around a few of my favorite campus boles -- on the lonely days when hugs were scarce, squeezing a slender tree tight was an excellent substitute), I eagerly tried this taste of the woods, and fell in love with the strong, sweet flavor that she'd brought with her from her childhood years in Argentina. Her family brought me a palo santo gourd and bombilla (the metal straw with a perforated end through which you drink the water) from Argentina when they visited one Christmas, and I admittedly enjoyed carrying the accoutrements with me on late-night study sessions, because the pot-bellied gourd and the loosely ground, dark green tea look like preparations for a marijuana bong blast.
I sighed sadly when my first gourd cracked a year or so later, ordered a new one, without the traditional shape, online, and jumped up and down like a giddy child when Shelley brought back the more authentic one from Bolivia. I was never able to throw any of my old ones away. They've become holders for pens and whatnot. And the Bolivian gourd has lived in quiet destitution at the corner of the sink since its death at the end of May.
My new one arrived today. Luchenne was sitting on the porch with me when the mailman arrived; I was on the phone with Jen, recounting my sister's latest escapade (Luchenne was laughing her head off in appreciation and disbelief), and when I saw the little cube-shaped box I squealed, "Is that for Sarah?!" The surly mailman actually sounded a little less surly when he handed it over, and I tore the tape apart with my keys while Jen waited and Luchenne demanded to know what it was.
"This is a cup for drinking a tea I like from South America," I said.
"South America?" she said. "How does it work?"
I showed her. She expressed interest in trying it out. As I explained the tea and how it tasted and how the gourd and the bombilla work, she shook her head and looked at me.
"Sarah, you need a man," she said. "You need someone older. None of this twenties shit. You need some nice man in his forties. Someone knows how to treat a woman. No more of these boys." And she shook her head again and patted me on the shoulder and went upstairs.
Well, I'm taking her advice with a heavy grain of salt, of course; this is the woman about whom I've called the police a few times to intervene regarding her own relationship. And I don't know that age makes a man. But I do agree that I need more than what the past few years have been giving me, or whom I've been choosing from them. Although I'm not sure why my South American tea should be a catalyst for this particular train of thought...but then, I'm not sure what catalyzes many of her trains of thought. She's complex.
But it's lovely to have my mate back. I made a huge carafe of hot water as soon as I got upstairs, and the mate dulce was delicious.
Rica, I don't know if I've ever thanked you properly for introducing me to mate, but I say it here: Thank you. It's become an intrinsic part of who I am, the way coffee and books and writing are an intrinsic part of who I am. And I owe that bit to you.
11 comments:
Funny comment. That woman's love life could be a mess. But she was cutting through the chase about something I've noticed about unattached women.... Which is they tend to develop uncommon interests to fill the time. With a special someone, those habits have a way of disappearing, replaced by habits more commonly seen.
When she said that to you, she was prolly flashing two scenarios in her mind: drinking coffee made from the kitchen's coffee maker with a special someone, or drinking mate alone. Obviously she'd opt for the first one.
Hm...Interesting thought. But I don't know. Her expression wasn't one of, You're crazy, but of, You need someone who can appreciate you. From things she's said in the past, I think she thinks an older man would be more refined and better able to understand me.
I would like to think that a "special someone" would be able to uphold and cherish the things about me that set me apart from the norm, since I don't take them up just to fill the time; I take them up because I enjoy them. Mate is, after all, a taste I developed in college, when I wasn't looking for anyone, and have continued to enjoy to the point of identifying with it intrinsically.
And the enjoyment of mate, in its original culture, is very much a social activity. Rica and I would have our own "mateados," sharing mate from one gourd, while we spent hours chatting and reading and studying together. In Argentina, or other Latin American countries, you can buy enormous gourds for passing around in big groups.
My hope, then, though it's not an expectation, is that I could find someone to share the mate with -- although its interesting flavor makes it something I wouldn't demand of another. Perhaps, then, he can have his coffee while I savor my mate.
In any event, I can never be accused of developing tastes just to fill the time. :) I'm always on a quest to become a fuller, richer human being, a deeper "subject-in-process," as Kristeva puts it, and I look forward to the day when I can share that with someone. Because however rich life can be when one is alone, I do believe it's much richer in the sharing.
This is same anonymous... Yes yes, what an unattached girl to do
As for older men, one of my girl friends - a church-going and religious Ivy Leaguer - finally broke up with college boyfriend after 3-4 years. (Boyfriend = horrible communicator.) At time of break up she worked at a big suburban church and met this man 20 years older. He was very different from ex-boyfriend, and over time they had a pretty serious relationship. It didn't work out in the end, and re-connected with a different college friend (no prior romance) and dated and eventually married him. But she learned tons about life and herself in the relationship with the man 20 years older. He respected her a lot, and they understood each other in a way the first boyfriend didn't.
The point isn't necessarily dating and marrying an older man. It didn't work out for her with the older man, after all. But for someone else it could work out...
The point is my friend had the courage to follow the dictates of her heart and not let usual cultural assumptions tell her what to do. She was her own self, independent in a good and healthy sense. Love isn't an end but a journey, and she could be neurotic in some ways but had the good sense (and the good kind of independence) to go with the flow. She grew lots in that relationship - just as her husband was growing in his own life. Then almost 10 years after their graduation, they reconnected and, zap, realized that they were so meant for each other. She was a courageous person, and it takes courage in the journey to get where we wanna get to eventually.
I meant to add that most relationships of young woman and older men I've known (20 years difference), they happened because those two people have close interraction on a regular basis.
As for differences in 8, 10. or 12 years, there are so many that it's kind of normal. After all men take more time than us women, hehehe.
Hahaha. True. :)
I'm certainly not looking specifically for an older man...at this point, I think, I'm throwing my list of expectations out the window, and reserving only a few: I want, quite simply, a good man. A Good. Man. A man of those (oh, those old-fashioned) qualities of character, duty and honor. However old or young he is.
Have I mentioned how much I love the fact that you can just quote Julia Kristeva? Seriously, that's awesome on levels I can't even contemplate. If I can achieve that level of eruditeness at some point in my life, even if it's 60 years from now, I will be happy.
My sister and I have elaborate theories on older men, but in short, they appreciate depth and complexities more. Often, they have dated a pretty wide spectrum of girls, and they come to appreciate WOMEN. With passions and depth and interests and a curiosity for learning.
Which, I believe, is what your neighbor was trying to articulate.
all of the comments neglect the very heart of this post: Mate is good. I miss sharing it with you and Rica.
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I'm rather late to the party, here, but thanks so much for your post. Honestly, it was a delight to share mate with you - you took to it like a fish to water.
Mate has been a part of me for as long as I could remember. My father dried orange rinds to add to the tea, and on camping trips, he'd add a hot coal of wood from the fire on top of the sugar to caramelize it. He'd pass it to me and watch me enjoy it with such a happy look on his face. Of all his children, I still love it most. Whenever I go home, I like to have at least one morning when we can share a mateada - he jokes that gods will be angry if he doesn't have it, but I know he just loves sharing it with me. He talked about its social significance - we say "breaking bread" is intimate because we share a meal, but he thinks a common cup is even more significant. He also loved that it was a slow process. You can finish a cup of coffee quickly - a mateada takes time and lends itself to conversation and long thought.
I feel bad for people who dislike mate in Argentine society just because its so ubiquitous. There's a mate going around during bible studies. Most people have less money to go out for get-togethers, so groups of friends will share mate at someone's home. Most people grow up with the taste and so don't mind it, most even love it. I suppose the reaction of our college friends (besides yourself and Mary) somewhat surprised me because I had forgotten how weird it really is coming from our culture. It was nice to have some who understood and could appreciate its value, and more importantly, could share a mateada with me in the true sense.
I miss you. I feel honored that I've shared something that is so important to you. Those mateadas were highlights in my college life. I do hope you find someone who appreciates this particular part of you, too. Hubster doesn't always participate in my mateadas, but he gets how much they mean to me, and by extension how much that culture means to me. As I recall, you helped save me from settling on someone who didn't appreciate this side of me at all back in the day.
I guess we owe each other. Here's hoping we can share a mateada sometime.
Hi,
do you know where I could buy the mate gourd and bombilla anywhere here in Michiana?
Victor
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