My First Folklore Experience!
- Ian Rosenberg
- May 14
- 3 min read
I left Valparaíso not by bus back to Santiago, like how I imagined I would before the trip, but instead, by train. I took the train as far inland as it goes, stopping in the small town of Limache. But I was not done. I hopped on a bus, heading to the even smaller town of Olmué from there: Chile's "Folkloric Capital." I suspect I'll be talking about "folklore" a lot in the coming weeks, as I delve deeper into rural regions in Argentina, so I'll try my hardest to give it a little explanation now. Folklore is the native musical tradition of the Southern Cone, blending Andean traditions with European traditions. I got my first taste of the genre tonight.
When I first arrived in Olmué, I got off the bus on the side of a dirt road named Avenida Eastman (remember all those not-Spanish-sounding names I was talking about? Here's another one of them). And I was stunned by the scenery. Though I was only about an hour away from where I'd woken up, the scenery was completely different. I was on dusty roads walking by horses and farm animals, surrounded by mountains and valleys on every side. The level to which the scenery changes on the Pacific coast of South America in the span of just a few miles is truly magnificent. I walked the few minutes to my hotel, where I was greeted with farm animals and dogs of our own! The hotel building was truly beautiful. It looked like, for the first time on this trip, a true estancia—the typical Argentinian/Uruguayan/perhaps Chilean type of farm ranch, built of wood with upholstered furniture and a warm fireplace. My hotel truly gave me the feeling that I had hoped to find at some point in the trip: that peaceful, rustic atmosphere with equal parts European and Latin American influence.
Right after checking in, I headed to the town's Plaza de Armas (nearly every city and town in Latin America has one, but interestingly, not Valparaíso as it was never a planned city) to grab a drink and soak in the atmosphere before the sunset. I landed upon this small restaurant with a patio, where two guys were sitting at a table. One, it turned out, was the owner, and the other was his friend, whose birthday was the next day. I sat alone at first with my beer, but they quickly invited me over to their table to talk. It turns out the owner's friend, Pipo, spoke perfect English as his family is half British, and he grew up going to an English immersion school. He's a music producer, and is quite well traveled, and the two of us spent a while just talking about my travels and our lives. As I ordered dinner, I noticed them starting to set up a campfire, and this is when I got excited. It turns out that the bar was hosting an impromptu birthday party for Pipo, and I would be lucky enough to score an invite to this relaxing night by the fireside.
Soon, Pipo's family, the family of the owner, and a few other friends joined us out on the patio. They broke out the guitar, and soon after, the drums and some spoons that functioned as a second percussion instrument. They also brought out a metal tube with a handle, and on its edge were hundreds of hand-pressed dimples. You rub a knife or any sharp edge along the side, which creates a rattle-like percussion that fits into the folklore sound as well.
The music is truly a mix of traditions. The first song began with a narration. It hardly sounded like a song at first, rather, lamentations over a chord progression. Soon enough, a waltz rhythm began, and he started singing. In other songs, you'd hear influences from Spanish guitar, or even melodies and rhythms reminiscent of tango. I was having the best time—I was grinning cheek to cheek the entire time. Eventually, I mustered up the nerves to ask for the drum, and I joined in for a few songs. I thought I recorded it all, but I didn't start the recording, but luckily one of the guys at the bonfire got a short recording of us all playing together.
The vibe was immaculate. It was relaxing, rural, and filled with soul and love. On my way back from the gathering, I couldn't help but think just how lucky I was to have this experience. To participate in something so real, to feel so welcomed by these kind people who'd just met me. It filled my heart to be there, and though I don't have too much to say about it, all I can say is that it made me so happy. I was hoping to have this experience once on my trip, and I found it already on day 4.
Comments