Sheepskins hang up to dry on a long line outside the Estancia, and flamingoes stand sulkily among black faced swans on the shoreline. They feast you on giant mussels and lamb that has smoked over an open fire all day; the rooms are a riot of fascinating clutter from pioneering days. The gauchos have long hair and knives in their belts; the riding is to suit your pace and the horses here gave me the confidence to make that a gallop. I'm utterly thrilled that my photograph is on the estancia's website.
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