Artisan Fair in El Bolsón

Artisan Fair in El Bolson, Patagonia. Photo: Laura Bernhein

Yesterday we went to the artisan fair. It’s as close to being as perfect of a “shopping experience” as I could possibly envision (probably because it doesn’t resemble shopping). Each weekend artisans set up around 200 booths along the backside of Plaza Pagano, the large park in the center of town.

If it were any bigger it would be overwhelming, at least to someone who hates buying things as much as I do, but the way it is right now you can traverse the whole thing in 7 minutes with your liter cup of local stout in hand, or spend all day and get virtually everything you need to set up your house.

Like most places in the world, mass produced furniture in Argentina is straight up garbage. The day before we’d looked at tables (all the ‘department’ stores wanted 225 pesos for folding tables, or much more–up to like $800 for crappy dining room sets). But then at the fair we met Sergio, a carpenter who has a shop here in town. He makes rustic furniture, big chunky benches and chairs all out of native cypress that lasts forever. The material is all harvested locally.

rustic benches out of native cypress

We bought two little benches for Layla, plus a coat rack, all for $50, then asked him about making a coffee table. We told him the size we wanted. He He went back to his shop to get a piece of wood he thought we’d like.

In the meantime we went around the fair. We found a woman who’d made these beautiful lamps. We visited Lorena, who I’d met earlier and bought a doll from. The doll’s foot had come off–we gave it back to her to re-sew. Layla saw a mini bed that you could carry dolls around in–with tiny blanket, pillow, all handmade–and we picked that up ($10).

On one end of the semicircle there are several food vendors selling all locally made cheeses, jams, fruits, mushrooms, empanadas, French fries, pizza, beer, honey, cakes. Lau got huge wedge of veggie-tarta (like a quiche) for $2. I had empanadas and beer. We took all of this under some shade trees in the park where circles of people–mostly Argentines, but also groups of travelers from the US, Israel, and other countries–sat all around rolling joints (personal consumption of marijuana was legalized in 2009) and drinking beer or mate, having picnics. To the east, framing the entire scene was Mt. Piltriquitrón with its jagged comb ridge, some of the teeth still filled in with snow.

Artisan Fair in El Bolson. Photo: Laura Bernhein

This is what a local economy looks like when there are sustainable resources (in this case, ultra fertile land), clean, small scale industry (local craftspeople, beer manufacturers, restaurants), skilled and enterprising people, and (admittedly what I know the least about, but will continue to observe) government policies which support local business.

Several things are noteworthy about this particular fair in this particular place:

• The fair in El Bolsón has its roots in trade. There was no monetized economy (it was all based on barter) until the early 1930’s.

• Unofficially, this seemed to be the first fair of the summer season. It was hot (lots of people walking around with sunburns), and the rain, which had fallen for two straight weeks before this, had finally stopped.  During the 6 months of winter / rain, the fairs continue to happen, but as many people have told me here, “you’re just barely surviving.”

• There was one family begging for money.

• There were no police (and no need for any.)

After lunch I went back to see Sergio. The piece of wood was beautiful, a rough-cut slab of cypress 18” wide by 5’ long by 4” thick. He asked me how much of it we wanted for the coffee table.

“Todo la madera.” I told him (the whole piece.) “How much?”

“180 pesos.”

“Listo,” I said. “Let’s do it.”

We were getting a custom made coffee table for $47.

I told Sergio our address (“we live beside the Colques”) and it turns out his sister lives in the house across the street. He told us he’d drop of the little benches and the coat rack later that afternoon. The coffee table would be ready Wednesday night; he’d drop it off around 8.

It might seem strange to note all of this, but for someone who grew up in suburbia where almost everything you buy is disposable, purchased out of some seemingly urgent need (“Shit, the printer broke!” “Well, we needed to go to Target anyway, you said you needed a new computer desk!”), buying things from the person who made it (and made it just for you) seems like something totally original. It’s a different way of connecting with place.