Argentines gathered in various locations throughout the country last night to express their frustrations with the administration of Cristina Fernández de Kirchner. Among the main demands were fewer restrictions on currency exchange, no to constitutional reform, easing trade restrictions, and a reduction of crime and general corruption. In Buenos Aires, people congregated at the intersections of Corrientes and Pueyrredón and Santa Fe and Callao and then descended to meet at Plaza de Mayo. While chaotic, emphatic, and noisy, there was no violence. Photographers Ande Wanderer, Beatrice Murch, Diego Espinosa, Madeleine Decker and Marc Rogers share their photos with you here.

Mar del Plata is one of the top destinations for porteños to get away during the hot summer months. The beach provides a wonderful respite away from the oppressive heat and humidity of the metropolis. Fun in the summer sand can be had for all ages. Photographer Irena Atanasoska shares some moments from the coastal vacation capitol.

One of the best Argentine surfers, Martín Passeri arrives on Playa Grande

Playa Varese is one of the most visited beaches.

A biker takes advantage of one of the many skate parks available on the beaches of Mar del Plata.

Even though it is prohibited, people play football on the beach.

One of the most attractive places for taking photos, with the sea lions and people leave the beach at the end of the day.

Kids play-fighting with mud on the shore.

All kinds of sweets for kids and adults alike.

The 'carpas' are prized possessions in Argentina, and are passed down from generation to generation.i

People who don't own carpas use huge umbrellas to hide from the powerful summer sun.

Even though not as popular as surfing, yachting is also important sport here.

Sunbathing is the main activity of beach goers and makes for a relaxing day out with friends and family.

'Tejo' is a sport highly practised by Argentines.

A lone surfer enters the water in Honu Beach, a private beach south of Mar del Plata and a woman practises yoga in the sun and sand.

One thing I’ve learned about porteños: they sure do love their weekend ferias. These outdoor street-markets, which spring up on Saturday and Sunday mornings in Recoleta, San Telmo, Palermo and pretty much anywhere else in the city, give people of all ages and walks of life a chance to commingle, buy and sell their products, and gossip about their week. Ever-animated street performers leap out at you, activating your senses, while the pretty colours spattered around in the form of artisan throw pillows and hand-painted mates soothe them. And those spidery-looking back-scratcher devises so popular in Buenos Aires markets definitely feel wonderful when applied to an overworked, aching body.

But what helps me assimilate best, what makes me part of the excitement and rush that characterises the weekend feria is the street food prepared on all sides; the smokey aroma of charcoal, the sizzling of sketchy- but delicious- meats, the sawing-sound made by a serrated knife when passing through a fresh hunk of crusty bread, the proud and reassuring smiles that come with each napkin-full of yummy treats. Basket-bearing home-made sandwich vendors come at you from all directions, shouting about the quality and content of their goods, while choripán stands lure you in more silently with the smoke wafting off of their grills. All this is enough to make your head spin, but don’t fret! Here is a breakdown of the best ever-present feria foods.

Skinny salami sandwiches (Photo by Lili Kocsis)

Skinny Deli Sandwiches

This is one of my favorites, stands that specialise in 3 or 4 types of simple, meaty sandwiches: salami, salami con pimiento and some sort of cured, smokey ham. The operation is never a complex one; while one woman saws the fresh loaves of skinny French bread in half, the other layers on generous portions of deli meat and piles the sandwiches high to lure in hungry customers. It’s probably true that I could easily find these ingredients and slap together my own version of this sandwich at home, but its the interaction with the women that counts here, the proud “yeah, you know you want it” smiles, and the enthusiasm with which they describe the cuts and let you try bits of each before making your decision on which to order.

Basket of panes rellenos (Photo by Lili Kocsis)

Pan Relleno

While the skinny salami sandwiches are ideal for the morning when you need a spicy flavor in your mouth to wake you up and get you in the shopping mood, the pan relleno is definitely the one you need when you stroll down to the feria at 3pm, physically drained and hungry as hell. A gigantic, hearty round of doughy, soft and (if you’re lucky) warm bread, stuffed with a variety of delicious fillings: sometimes ham, sometimes chicken, often tomato or onion, but always a generous amount of gooey, slightly oily cheese. A fistful of comfort and satisfaction right here.

Candied and popcorn-ed fruits and nuts (Photo by Beatrice Murch)

Candied and Popcorn-ed Fruit

The culinary trend of mounting normally healthy and sensible fruit onto a stick and coating it in a sticky sweet, neon-red, sugary ooze is one that is especially prominent at weekend ferias, and is definitely one I can stand in support of. What makes these sinful little treats even more fantastic and fun to look at are the candied puffs of popcorn stuck to their surface. Although I strongly believe these things should come with a manual on how to eat, I can imagine that the tart, juicy freshness of the fruit harmonises nicely with the stick-to-your-teeth sweet coating and the nutty, airy crunch from the popcorn. The fruits come in all shapes and sizes: single apples stuck onto popsicle sticks, sweet little cherries and strawberries lined up shish kebob style on thin wooden poles. They are often sold at stands together with their more popular cousin, the roasted and sugar-coated peanuts. Next time you’re at the feria, bring out the kid in you and buy one of these treats. Even if you can’t figure out how to eat it, it’ll at least make for a nice paper-weight.

Choripan with chimichurri (Photo by Lili Kocsis)

Choripán

Presenting the king of Argentine street-food gastronomy, the revered choripán. A thick, slightly sweet chorizo sausage (most commonly pork but it’s beefy brother is not too hard to find either) with just the right amount (a lot) of smokey grease dripping off, the tender filling ready to burst out of its crisp casing until liberated at last when the sausage is chopped in two. A nice hunk of toasted white roll slapped on either side to soak up all of that flavorful fat. Make your way to the condiment station and ladle on a generous portion of what is often home-made chimichurri (a parsley-garlic-oil condiment which is an absolutely vital part of any decent Argentine chori) as well as any of the other colorful and tangy, though never too spicy, sauces laid out for your choosing. These herb-based salsas bring out the sweet, smokey flavor of the meat while also each adding its own distinct combination of tart, nutty and fresh flavors. And don’t forget to grab a few extra napkins for this street-food favorite. Trust me…you’ll need them.

Fruit cup with orange juice (Photo by Lili Kocsis)

Fruit Cup/Freshly Squeezed Orange Juice

And then there’s the fruit-cup, by far the healthiest and most refreshing of all the feria food choices, perfect for when you need something with a sour twang to make you feel better about yourself after a night of stuffing your face with greasy asado, or just moments after wolfing down a particularly napkin-soaking choripán (see above). Fruit-cup vendors squeeze out fresh orange juice with impressive vigor and serve it to parched market-goers for very reasonable prices. They often, after reading the indecision between fruit cup and orange juice on a foreign face, suggest mixing the two, and create this vitamin-C packed masterpiece. Fresh, ruby red strawberries, thinly sliced, slightly slimy kiwi slices, sweet pineapple bits, crisp apple wedges and even a few chunks of velvety ripe banana, all floating happily in a wonderfully tart, cool glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. This one comes highly recommended.

The 37th annual Luján youth pilgrimage took place last weekend, beginning in Liniers and running the length of Avenida Rivadavia to Luján, almost 60km away in the province of Buenos Aires. The event draws thousands of the faithful every year and can take up to 20 hours to complete. The 20km section that I covered was lined continuously with makeshift parrillas and water, sock and insole vendors - clearly an excellent source of revenue for the residents along the pilgrimage’s route.

Photographer: Shane Korpisto.

The Luján pilgrimage's virginal namesake.

A support vehicle, from which "you know who" casts his constant morale-boosting gaze upon the pilgrims behind him struggling in the warm afternoon sun.

A mobile hospital along the pilgrimage route with a name that continues to attract the faithful as well.

Pilgrim equipment ranged from nothing more than the shirt on one's back through to the kind of kit you would expect to see on a trek in the Himalayas.

One of the hundreds of volunteers along the route directing the herd.

Political slogans in Argentine celeste.

The virgin herself was seen in replica form in all shapes and sizes.

By midway through their journey many were feeling the effects of the sun.

Many families living along the pilgrimage route were happy for the opportunity to set up makeshift kioscos.

Just past the halfway mark.

Pilgrims pushing onward.

Some of the unfortunate byproduct of the pilgrimage.

World peace would be so much easier to attain if we settled our conflicts with pillow fights… Last Saturday saw a mob of pillow-bearing youngsters gather in front of the Buenos Aires Planetarium and, at the blow of a whistle, hit each other all over with their fluffy, down weapons while laughing and smiling ecstatically. The pillow fight went on for more than an hour, gathering dust in the air and leaving the ground riddled with bits of foam and feather. Photos by Lili Kocsis.

The third in our ‘Beyond Borges‘ series, the poet, playwright and novelist José Mármol follows hot on the heels of August’s Esteban Echeverría and Domingo Faustino Sarmiento, completing a trio of prominent mid-19th century romantics.

Jose Mármol

Mármol is most known for his semi-autobiographical fiction ‘Amalia’ which, when it was published in its entirety in 1854, constituted the first full-length Argentine novel.

Born in Buenos Aires in 1818, he’d grown up to be a vehement opposer of ruling federalist politician Juan Manuel de Rosas and had abandoned his university studies amidst the flurry of a growing opposition movement.

Mármol fled Argentina in 1840 at the height of Rosas’ regime. He lived in exile in Montevideo alongside several other Argentine authors, including fellow romantic writer Echeverría. Having been arrested a year before for distributing anti-Rosas literature, he claims he wrote his first poetry against the dictator from his prison cell.

Like his contemporaries, Mármol had similar ideas of what could be expressed through literature, and took advantage of the freer climate which existed in Uruguay to write from exile. There he founded several journals - among them ‘La Semana’ - through which he launched scathing attacks on Rosas and earned himself the nickname “the poetic hangman”.

His journalism and poetry took a no-holds-barred approach, as demonstrated in his poem ‘A Rosas, el 25 de Mayo de 1843′, which directly and strongly denounced the Argentine ruler. The poem is noted for its 14 syllable alexandrine lines, a structure which was at that time more commonly associated with the 12 syllable equivalent of the French and English poets.

Although chronologically Echeverría was the forerunner to romanticism in Argentina, the influence of the European romantics was evident not only in Mármol’s poetry but also in his plays ‘El poeta’ and ‘El cruzado’. His celebrated autobiographical poem ‘El peregrino’ for example, spans 12 cantos and draws comparisons with the narrative poetry of leading English romantic Lord Byron, as well as the poetry of some Argentine contemporaries.

Mármol took Echeverría’s same sordid vision of Argentina under Rosas, and expanded and deepened it in the realistic fiction ‘Amalia’ - a tragic tale of two young lovers caught up in the anti-Rosas movement.

The heroine of the story is an indigenous woman living in Buenos Aires, whose life transpires between the polarisation of barbarism and civilisation. She falls for Eduardo while she and her cousin Daniel are sheltering him from military persecution, but before the trio can make their escape, Rosas’ federalist henchmen arrive.

The combined use of costumbrismo alongside romanticism paints a detailed picture of life under a violent dictatorship, resulting in ‘Amalia’ being held up as an early example of social romanticism. Because the novel mixes fictional characters with several living figures, it can also be labelled a historical novel, and along with Sarmiento’s ‘Facundo’ it is considered a precursor to the important genre of ‘dictator novel’ which would later appear in Latin American literature.

Juan Manuel de Rosas

Mármol started writing ‘Amalia’ in Uruguay in 1844 and, as Sarmiento had done with ‘Facundo’, began publishing it as a feuilleton inside ‘La semana’ review in 1851. The serials were discontinued following the fall of Rosas in 1852, when Mármol returned to live in Argentina after a period of more than 12 years in exile.

The first edition of ‘Amalia’ as a complete novel appeared in Argentina in 1854 and was immediately adopted as Argentina’s national novel. Although the love story which ran through it accounted for a large portion of its appeal, the book respected certain traits of the serial format and didn’t come together especially well as a single novel.

Mármol’s literary style has since come under fire for borrowing too much from European writers of the time, and for lacking the quality of Sarmiento’s ‘Facundo’ and the authenticity of Echeverría’s ‘El matadero’. Renowned Argentine critic David Viñas observed that his greatest aesthetic achievements came when he wrote about barbarism in crude realistic terms, and when writing about his protagonist Amalia, his writing became too ornamental and rhetorical.

Contemporary reviews occasionally draw comparison with Scottish romantic novelist Sir Walter Scott, and whilst nowadays the novel finds its reader base mostly among students of romantic or 19th-century literature, it enjoyed enormous popularity for over a century in Argentina.

In 1914 the book was adapted for silent film - making ‘Amalia’ not only Argentina’s first full-length novel, but also the first feature-length Argentine film production.

Mármol’s career as an author ended with ‘Amalia’, as though his inspiration to write left along with Rosas, and while a succession of anti-Rosas novels followed in its footsteps, none were as well received as this landmark first novel. Shortly thereafter, he assumed the position of director of Argentina’s National Library, joining the likes of Marcos Sastre, whose bookstore provided the setting of the Generation of 37′s literary salon 20 years earlier, in an impressive line-up of directors considered crucial in the makeup of Argentina’s intellectual and historical fabric.

Continuing our ‘Beyond Borges’ series is an author who if you don’t know for his contribution to Argentine literature, you may well know for being Argentina’s seventh president, the subject of one of Rodin’s final sculptures, or the face of the fifty pesos note.

Sarmiento's writing on the fifty peso note (Photo: Julián Rodriguez Urihuela)

Aside from his achievements in areas of education and modernisation, Domingo Faustino Sarmiento was also an intellectual, an activist, and a prolific writer whose historical essay ‘Facundo: Civilización y Barbarie’ has been elevated to classical status among works of Latin American literature.

Life and Early Exiles

Born in the landlocked Argentine province of San Juan in 1811, Sarmiento grew to be an unlikely intellectual. By 15 years of age he had already identified himself as a supporter of the Rivadavia government that was dividing unitarian and federalist ideologies.

Prevented from attending school in Buenos Aires by the outbreak of a civil war in the province, he joined the unitarian army to fight against the invasion of Juan ‘Facundo’ Quiroga – the gaucho who would become his obsession and subject.

With Argentina under the rule of federalist dictator Juan Manuel de Rosas, Sarmiento fled to Chile in 1831 where he lived the first of three periods of exile, and began exploring an environment of free expression by writing political commentaries.

In an effort to recreate this same environment inside Argentina, he directed his energies into the foundation of an anti-federalist review, ‘El zonda’, but was forced into exile a second time in 1840. It was during this passage to Chile that he wrote out the misquoted French “On ne tue point les idées” - an incident that would become the preface to ‘Facundo’, his most famous work.

The phrase “ideas cannot be killed” translated as a warning to Rosas, but also served to further emphasise the difference Sarmiento perceived between the civilised intellectual who understood French and the uneducated barbarian who could not.

Back in Chile, and bearing a larger than life chip on his shoulder, Sarmiento resumed an extremely active literary career. Through regular contributions to ‘El mercurio’ and articles in his own newspaper ‘El progreso’, he strove to defeat the political ideologies of Rosas from across the Andes.

Facundo

‘Facundo’ itself was written during this second period of exile, and first appeared in serial form inside ‘El progreso’ in May 1845. Through the impassioned study of real-life figure Juan ‘Facundo’ Quiroga, it launched a strong protest against the federalist dictatorship, painting Facundo’s barbarism as a product of his environment and of the Rosas regime.

Presenting an Argentine national character torn between the dichotomy of civilisation and barbarism, it can be seen as both a critique and a symptom of Argentina’s internal cultural conflicts at the time. In it Sarmiento delivers a written prescription for the modernisation of Latin America, in accordance with his own vision for Argentina’s future under a democratic unitarian government.

The interior of Sarmiento's home (Photo: Axel Rosito)

Often cited an exemplary precursor to the genre of the Latin American dictator novel, ‘Facundo’ set the bar high. Many consider it crucial reading in understanding not only Argentine history but also Latin American history in general.

What began as a biogaphy of the barbaric gaucho nicknamed “the tiger of the plains”, ended as a combination of biography, autobiography, creative non-fiction, essay and political diatribe which fuelled by Sarmiento’s own fascination with his subject, read as easily as fiction.

Political Writing

As an author Sarmiento wrote diversely and extensively, publishing several autobiographical works including ‘Recuerdos de Provinca’ and ‘Campaña del ejército grande’ - describing his own part in the tri-nation army which finally defeated Rosas in the 1852 ‘Battle of Caseros’.

With Rosas in exile and a programme of national organisation underway, Sarmiento remained in Argentina where he forged a promising political career alongside an ongoing literary one.

Although the majority Latin American literature from the time can be earmarked political in some respect, politics ran as a common thread through almost all of Sarmiento’s work. The appearance of a new edition of ‘Facundo’ at the end of his presidency was considered by some to be a form of political gesturing. The 1874 edition spanned 15 chapters broadly divided in to three sections: the history and geography of Argentina, the barbaric life of the gaucho Juan ‘Facundo’ Quiroga, and several chapters originally left out of the 1845 edition in which Sarmiento outlined his own political visions.

In addition, the much talked about ‘Conflictos y armonias de las razas en América’ is an example of post-presidency writing in which Sarmiento put forward controversial ideas about the effects of racial mixing in Latin America, while continuing to offer the existence of the rural pampas as a reason why Argentina had failed to achieve civilisation.

Ironically, whilst denouncing the barbarism of the Argentine gaucho, Sarmiento simultaneously romanticised him, transforming him into a symbol of national mythology that would soon be at the head Argentine literature. Despite his sometimes controversial opinions, his bold ambition and his renowned egotism, Sarmiento is nowadays reflected upon favourably as a public figure and heralded as the best Argentine writer of the 19th century.

Kick-starting The Argentina Independent’s ‘Beyond Borges’ series is an author generally accepted as marking the beginning of Argentine literature, and arguably the first writer to play a significant role in its development.

Esteban Echeverría (courtesy of Wikipedia)

As one of the earliest romantic writers in Latin America, founder and figurehead of the first circle of young Argentine intellectuals, and the author behind the country’s first work of literary prose, poet Esteban Echeverría is a man credited with many literary titles.

His graphic and bloody vignette, ‘El matadero’, is commonly considered a cornerstone of national literature and remains one of the most studied texts in Argentina.

For this reason, his poetry and prose can be seen as marking the beginning of a new style of writing - one which signified Argentina’s literary break from the Spanish and a move away from the artistic currents that had previously flowed from Madrid. Until then, Argentine writers had grown up under independence fervour, but remained limited by a paradoxical Spanish influence that prevented them from developing their own distinct style.

Quoting French poet Victor Hugo by describing romanticism as “liberalism in literature”, Echeverría became one of the first Latin American writers to employ literature as a vehicle for communicating strong political and social opinion.

Romantic Writing

Although he authored several works, Echeverría’s reputation as a writer rests most securely on ‘El matadero’ and on his long narrative poem ‘La cautiva’, published as the 2,100-line centrepiece of ‘Rimas’ in 1837.

‘El matadero’ was written in the late 1830s but not published until 1871. It came politically-charged and packed a powerful punch against the federalist dictatorship that existed in Argentina at the time. Set inside a Buenos Aires slaughteryard, this short story describes the capture and torture of a passing unitarian by the Mazorca – brutal enforcers of Juan Manuel de Rosas’ federalist regime.

Inside 'El matadero' slaughteryard (Photo: Sam Verhaert)

Written as a political allegory, the Mazorca can be seen to represent barbarism and the young protagonist to represent civilisation. Or in a different light, the federalists are presented as butchers and the unitarians as animals.

First published inside the ‘Revista del Río de la Plata’ twenty years after Echeverría’s death and more than thirty years after it was written, the text is widely acclaimed for its realistic presentation of a gruesome period in Argentina’s history.

The poem ‘La cautiva’, translated into English as ‘The captive woman’, marks the first instance of rural Latin America serving as poetic backdrop, and is also listed among the best known romantic works of 19th century Latin American literature.

Featuring the indigenous people of the time as its subjects, the poem was commended for bursting the illusion of harmonious racial relations. Whereas captivity tales had traditionally been told in the first person by the survivor, ‘La cautiva’ uses the third person to narrate the fate of a couple captured by indians at the frontier.

Like ‘El matadero’, the poem is noted for its incorporation of local dialects and regionalisms without the use of italics or quotation marks. It also explores the struggle to position a national identity somewhere between Europe and America - an issue which journalist, essayist, and author Domingo Faustino Sarmiento would later place at the heart of Latin American culture.

The Generation of 1837

Along with many intellectuals of the period, Echeverría sought shelter from the Rosas dictatorship in neighbouring Uruguay, where he lived until his death in 1851. What forced him into exile, however, was not the unpublished manuscript of ‘El matadero’, but his association with the group of Argentine writers and intellectuals known collectively as the ‘Generation of 1837’.

The Generation of '37 created a literary salon in the backroom of Marcos Sastre's bookstore (Photo: Sam Verhaert)

Brought together by a shared passion for aesthetics and freedom, they gathered in the backroom of Marcos Sastre’s bookstore to give readings and engage in intellectual debate.

Within six months, the movement Echeverría had been so fundamental in starting was taken underground. Renamed the ‘Assosciation of May’ and holding onto the spirit of the 1810 revolution, they became Rosas’ most determined opposition with the slogan: “May, Progress, Democracy”.

When his signature on an anti-Rosas petition eventually brought about his exile in 1840, Echeverría moved to Montevideo where he made up part of a far-reaching network of exiled intellectuals in Uruguay, Chile and France. The movement continued to actively oppose the Argentine government whilst simultaneously campaigning for the creation of a national literature that was representative and responsive to social climates.

Echeverría’s popularity among his peers was such that one present day scholar has described him as “a Beatle”, with others suggesting that his esteem exceeded the literary merit of the majority of his work, taking care to make an exception of his brief but impacting novel ‘El matadero’.

As undoubtedly the most popular Argentine intellectual of the first half of the 19th century, Echeverría became a leader of many and an attraction for the rest- paving the way for a change of direction in Argentine literature.

Between Día de la mujer, Día del padre, Día de la madre, Día del amigo, and Día del niño, we certainly don’t fall short of opportunities to spoil the ones we love. But this week’s ‘La Semana de la Dulzura’, provides the perfect week-long excuse for a little self indulgence.

If getting your sweet fix means reaching past the dulce de leche for something more unusual, Argentina has plenty to offer. From homemade marmalades and distinctive chocolate ramas to fruity artisan beers, the south has turned it’s hand to almost everything. But if all this makes you wish the wilds of Patagonia were a little more accessible, don’t worry. You only need to enter the world of Vasalissa chocolatier to see that being in the city this week might just be the best place to be.

Domes of dark chocolate and raspberry housing a whole Amarena cherry (Photo: Kate Bowen)

Named after the female heroine of a Russian fairytale, Vasalissa is a high end, luxury chocolatier founded by mother and daughter Dadi and Federica Marinucci. For Dadi and Federica, the creation of chocolate is something of a family legacy.

Dadi’s father was the original founder of Argentina’s famous Cabsha chocolate, and through the combination of inherited expertise and a pair of discerning palates, they’ve established themselves as a chocolatier of distinction.

With a steady stream of late afternoon customers, Vasalissa’s charms are clearly no secret. Arguably the best in Argentina, what sets their chocolate apart is that it combines the world’s best raw ingredients with the world’s best processing techniques. Cocoa fruit is sourced from origin in countries like New Guinea, Peru and Venezuela, and processed in Belgium before being delivered to Vasalissa in the finest quality slabs. The slabs are then melted down and used as the key ingredient in individual chocolates and covertures here in Argentina.

Since opening their first store in Martínez in 2006, they’ve grown up steadily alongside their reputation and now have shops in the most fitting neighbourhoods of Belgrano, Recoleta, and San Isidro.

Inside the Recoleta boutique (Photo: Kate Bowen)

Dadi and Federica’s artistic eye and attention to detail translates not only into the creation of exquisite chocolates, but also into the design of spectacular boutiques in which to display them. With huge, mirrored panels set in walls painted marzipan green, centrepiece chandeliers, marble countertops and elegant french furnishings, feminine touches are everywhere.

Vasalissa’s impossibly pretty interior captures the attention of anyone who passes, as though the whole shop becomes part of a fantastical window display. But don’t let the immaculate interiors put a dampener on your first time curiosity. Inside the Recoleta boutique we found the manager Jorge welcoming and more than happy to talk about his chocolates with the same knowledge and passion you’d expect to find from the owners themselves.

True to its fairytale name, when you step inside Vasalissa you immediately find yourself far removed from the street outside - somewhere between Hansel and Gretel’s house and the Mad Hatter’s tea party. The centre table displays an impressive selection of truffles and bombones presented on pristine white plates rather than behind glass, inviting you get up close and personal with each individual chocolate before making your selection. Here you can take your time to read the exotic names and ingredients used in each chocolate, inhale the delicious aromas of Madagascan vanilla, dark rum or red fruits, and really admire the care and attention to detail that has gone into making each and every creation unique.

Vasalissa´s raspberry and three pepper bombones (Photo: Kate Bowen)

While dulce de leche remains a favourite ingredient among regular clientele, there’s plenty of more traditional and innovative options on offer for those who like their chocolate a little less sweet. The popular Pirámide de Papúa comes filled with a velvety ganache of 68% New Guinea chocolate, and the 71% cocoa Peruvian truffles come highly recommended.

If you prefer something sweet and fresh, a personal favourite is the Diamante de Menta, or you could try one of the new milk chocolate with lavender bombones, or the more daring raspberry and three peppers.

Aside from individual chocolates, you’ll find imitation cigars dusted with cocoa powder, champagne bottles turned antique bronze by a magical gold ingredient, and magnificent novelty shapes and figures introduced seasonally. Perfect for children and those of us who remain children at heart, the military bear and the lucky frog make fantastic additions to an already excessive 50 chocolate selection box.

While Vasalissa makes a wonderful special occasion chocolatier for weddings, new arrivals and anniversaries, there’s plenty of more modest purchases on offer to take home for every day occasions. An extensive range of presentation gift boxes make it easy to enjoy a sample of eight or twelve without really needing an excuse, and come in sizes small enough to place on someone’s pillow.

Imitation cigars dusted in cocoa powder (Photo: Kate Bowen)

And if truffles and bombones aren’t your preference, you’ll find tubs of ice cream ranging from the usual suspects to the fresher flavours of mandarine and grapefruit, a selection of jarred confitures, turron, orange segments dipped in dark chocolate, Parisian macarons, and pots of drinking chocolates with alluring French names from the milky Chocolat chaud à l’ancienne to Chocolat chaud à la mexicaine, which comes subtly laced with peperoncini.

Rather than specialising in something, Vasalissa specialises in everything with uncompromised quality. Individual truffles and bombones are priced by weight, in accordance with the high levels of quality and craftmanship. $54 will buy you 100g, around six luxurious chocolates, wrapped in toile de jouy paper and set inside beautifully feminine red and white presentation boxes. If you prefer your packaging a little more masculine, you can ask for the new white version, but in taking the red you’d find yourself in good company – with Vasalissa’s signature packaging being something of a mark of luxury, there’s plenty of men proud to carry toile.

Augusto Alonso had his leg amputated aged ten after a football injury developed into a malignant tumour. Last week, the 15-year-old from Mendoza scored two goals while wearing the blue and white stripes of Argentina in the opening game of the World Cup.

Thirty years after the sport was first created by Don Bennett in the US, the Amputee Football World Cup 2010 kicked off in Argentina last week. Over 200 players from 16 nations—each members of the World Amputee Football Federation (WAFF)—strode onto a floodlit field in Crespo, Entre Ríos, flying the banners of their countries.

Delegations from Angola, Great Britain, Russia, Liberia, El Salvador, Turkey, Iran, France, Haiti, Ukraine, Japan, Brazil and Argentina (with later arrivals from Ghana and Uzbekistan) were hailed with appreciative roars from a capacity crowd at the Crespo Union de Fútbol. As darkness fell, the atmosphere began to crackle with shouting voices, whistles, drums, streamers and confetti picked out by the bright floodlights.

The warm reception really set the tone for the ten day tournament as the towns of Cerrito, Viale and Paraná joined forces with main host Crespo to welcome the teams and celebrate the world cup of a sport that after three decades is still struggling to gain official recognition.

A world away from the ‘other’ World Cup in South Africa this summer, there was no wall-to-wall media coverage, shrieking vuvuzelas, or two-penny memorabilia here: amputee football still isn’t acknowledged by football’s governing body FIFA or included as a Para Olympic discipline.

Mauricio Gregnor, of the Mundial Organising Committee at Crespo said: “There are a lot of personal sacrifices made to play this sport because at first nobody took notice of amputee football players. Everything they have achieved they’ve done on their own and now finally they are getting some recognition.”

Setbacks are common: the tournament was supposed to be held in Brazil last year but was cancelled with less than three weeks to go for financial reasons. Each town’s preparation for this event was a labour of love and determination and each team’s journey to Entre Rios was complicated and uncertain. Many of them only made it by the skin of their hides.

Haiti

If anything captured the tournament’s battle against the odds, surely it was the sight of the Haitian national team making their way onto the pitch during the opening ceremony, merely ten months after an earthquake devastated the country. Three of the team were victims in the tragedy, including Francois McKewdy, who had to saw off his own leg to escape from the wreckage of the t-shirt factory he was working in when the quake hit.

Established not long after the natural disaster occurred, the team was created by the US-based International Institute of Sport (IIOS) and their arrival in Entre Rios came after a colossal fundraising initiative to pay for fares, equipment and uniforms.

Evens Esaïe Jovin, pastor and secretary of the national team said: “It was hard to organise because there were so many people that lost limbs in the earthquake. They came here without clothes because they literally didn’t have anything else to wear: every house was broken.

“Getting ready to come here was really hard. None of the players had travel papers or birth certificates, everything was lost,” he added.

Funding

In Haiti, amputee football is still in its infancy, but a lack of funding is an issue that is common to all teams that participate in the sport. Even in countries like El Salvador, where the sport has been established since 1986, the squad only managed to buy the last three plane tickets a few days before the competition started.

Their background is that of a 12-year civil war which ended in 1992 and there are only three players that don’t have an ex-guerrilla or military background. There was initial backing from the armed forces, but even that support has gradually dwindled.

Rene Velasco, 43, from Ilobasco, has been with the team since he lost his leg to a land mine during the war. From their lodgings in Cerrito, while his team mates are sprawled about watching Tom & Gerry he says: “We’re competitive. We also have to have other jobs (apart from playing football) to earn enough for tickets and uniforms: it wasn’t easy.

“We’re trying to get a bit more organised and hoping for help from sports federations and departments in the government, including FIFA. We’re demanding an answer as to why amputee football isn’t recognised as a sport. Everyone’s been asking why FIFA doesn’t lend its support to us but we still haven’t had an answer,” says Rene.

While Para Olympic sports get government funding in most countries, WAFF is still in negotiations to get amputee football included as a discipline and in the mean time the teams rely on thrifty fundraising.

Rehabilitation Through Sport

Investment in the sport would support more than just the teams themselves. According to many amputees, participation in sport was a crucial part of their physical and psychological rehabilitation as they recovered from the loss of their limbs.

Oscar Barablis, 42, Mendoza, is one of the Argentina’s three goal keepers. His arm was amputated 22 years ago in an accident at the gomeria where he worked.

“Of course I had to re-train and get used to playing with one arm but with the help of my friends and family I managed it - playing really helped me integrate into society because you feel part of a group again,” he says as the team basks in the warm spring sunshine, enjoying a free morning.

The positive impact is also felt by friends and family who struggled to comes to terms with the injury to a loved one. Oscar´s mother, Josefina, came from Mendoza to Crespo to watch her son represent his country. She says that seeing him play had finally helped her to accept that her son had lost an arm after more than 20 years of denial.

After a group of young boys come by to slap the players on the back and wish them luck for the next games, Oscar talks about the squad: “No player is bigger than the team. The main goal is to be as one and grow one step at a time and not to lose our modesty.

“We go out with our chests raised high in the knowledge that even if we lose, each player has contributed the best of themselves to our sport – that’s the idea,” he says.

An Inspiration for Others

Back in the El Salvador camp, Rene describes the team’s ambition to foster wider change back home: “We are really working to set an example, so that society sees that life doesn’t stop when you have a disability.

“When you have an amputation you feel like your world has ended. We want to work with these people and show them that life continues and they can carry on being the person that they were before the accident. We’re not psychologists but we can support them and help them by showing them that we have a living history; that we’ve overcome all of the obstacles that stood before us.”

The Haitian team also hopes to inspire others by setting up a national centre for amputee sport in Port au Prince with the backing of the IIOS to help earthquake victims recover from their injuries when they return home.

Speaking from Viale football club, as the team relaxed in the sun, listening to Sean Paul and having broken conversations with local school children, pastor Esaïe Jovin said: “There aren’t really any other amputee sports in our country. They don’t like unpretty persons and exile them from the society. It’s our challenge to come here and play in Argentina so that when we come back they will think differently.”

Although each team came to Entre Rios with the hope of taking the world cup home with them, the common long-term goal is to achieve official recognition for the sport so that they can spend less time on fundraising and more time on tactics. With the level of support, spirit of solidarity and number of flashbulbs on the sidelines at Crespo this year, there is a sense that amputee football is gradually getting the attention it deserves.

“I never thought that I would be out there playing for my country in front of such a big crowd,” says Augusto, “In other tournaments there were people but nothing like this. Their support is great!”

This is a sport that desperately needs publicity and investment – hopefully progress will have been made by the time the teams re-group for Japan 2012.