A Mate Among Mates

 

{This is a response to a prompt from What Pegman Saw, in which Montevideo, Uruguay was the location chosen on Google Streetview.  The assignment is to write 150 words inspired by the place.  I did a little hunting around, and found a nice article about Mate, and its importance in Uruguayan culture.  Among many other things, it symbolizes health, energy and hospitality. 

To read more, especially a lovely poem, in both Spanish and in English translation, by the Argentinian poet Lala Mir, about the many meanings of mate, go to  Authentic Food Quest. I also, obviously, borrowed her name for this story.  The picture is from the Gaucho Museum in Montevideo, and shows mate drinking gourds, also called mate.}

 

I consider myself a clean person.  My bag was likewise neat and tidy.

My friend refused to get immunized, but I insisted.  Better safe than sorry.

When we arrived at Lala’s house, in Montevideo, I was overcome by the green plants, the pollution, the humidity, the ever-present ocean wind.  I splashed my face in refreshing, if questionable, water.

Twenty years ago, my host had stayed, as an exchange student, in my own home.  Now it was her turn, to return the hospitality.

The metal straw, or bombilla, stood upright in a hand-hewn gourd, full of matted yerba, barely submerged in hot water.  I sniffed, and nearly choked.  Bitter.

The gourd passed from hand to hand, successive lips slurping from the same metal straw.

Perhaps the metal had antibacterial properties.  Perhaps.

My turn.  I toasted Lala’s smiling face, “Old friends!”

Queasily, I put my lips where so many had gone before.

 

For another hot beverage try Carpe Diem.