• Vol. 08
  • Chapter 09

First Gig In Patagonia

Negotiated our first gig in Patagonia with
himself on squeezebox, me on guitar.

Fine summer evening in mid December of
al fresco artistry for those discerning.

We practice our set, we set our practice
three hours each morn (Sunday excluded).

Audience expectant of retumbó tunes in
Spanish, Mapudungun or in the Welsh.

They sat round the fire in pairs and trios
showering applause in great anticipation.

Clothed in chiripás, we looked the part
only problem was - we are tone deaf.

Ignoring loud cries of abject derision, we
played until only the rooster remained.

By then our hunger took centre stage -
empanadas, farfalle pasta, guanaco pie.

While our kettle boiled for yerba mate,
no sugar was in situ so was quite bitter.

As the sun set behind damaged egos,
we closed our first gig in Patagonia.