One Less Problem… Or So I Thought…
After the little incident with the boxes and Marcos’ “territorial marking”, it seemed that everything had been resolved. No one noticed, no one commented, and the men in black finished their round of the estate, taking the boxes to the rooms. One less little problem, I thought.
I was in the kitchen, quiet, savoring the silence left by the security outpost, when suddenly I heard a strange noise.
“CH-CH-CH-CH-CH-CH-CH…”
It was a repetitive, mechanical sound that grew louder and louder. I looked out the window, but saw nothing. However, the noise did not stop. Rather, it seemed to be getting closer.
“What the hell is that?”
And then I saw it: a helicopter, huge, flying so low it could almost touch the roof of the farmhouse. It whizzed over my head and headed for the adjoining field, where it finally landed.
Helicopter and Reinforcements
I had seen many things in my life at Más Torrencito, but nothing like that. The helicopter that had landed in the neighboring field continued to occupy my mind. Four armed men had descended with perfectly coordinated movements, forming a corridor and watching every corner as if they were in enemy territory.
The roar of engines interrupted the silence of the field. Two Mercedes G’s were speeding across the field. My instinct told me to stay away, but curiosity kept me in my place, watching. The pickup trucks flanked the helicopter, and out of them came four other men in suits with dark glasses and automatic weapons.
The situation was surreal. A man and a woman descended from the helicopter with an elegance that did not correspond to the chaos around them. The armed men escorted them to the terrace of the farmhouse, while I, from the kitchen, watched them with my heart pounding in my throat.
The Encounter on the Terrace. The Mysterious Encounter at MasTorrencito:
One of the men in black signaled me to come downstairs. I swallowed, leaving my cell phone on the table.
– Miguel, meet Yitzhak Rabin and his wife.
For a moment, the words did not come out.
– Nice to meet you… – I managed to mutter, while shaking the hand of the former Israeli Prime Minister.
– I speak a little Spanish. Thank you for hosting us, he said with a smile that conveyed kindness and respect.
– Thanks to you, I replied, still not fully understanding how I had arrived at that moment.
The man in black asked me to show them the house. So, with Manuela and Marcos by my side, I accompanied the illustrious visitor and his wife through the nooks and crannies of Más Torrencito. Mrs. Rabin could not resist the charm of Marcos, who was limping slightly, and bent down to caress him tenderly. Marcos, happy, wagged his tail as if that gesture was the greatest reward of the day.
Arafat’s Surprise
When we finished the tour, we returned to the terrace. Rabin sat down and called to me from below.
– Miguel, could you pour me a cold beer?
I nodded and went to get a beer from the bar. As I poured it for him, he invited me to sit down.
– Are you not drinking something?
– Sure, of course, I answered, pouring one to go with it.
The conversation flowed with surprising naturalness.
– What a nice, quiet place you have, Rabin commented.
– It usually is, except when helicopters come, I joked, provoking his laughter.
Suddenly, one of the men in black approached and whispered something in his ear. Rabin nodded and turned to me.
– Now here comes a friend we need to chat with, okay?
– Of course, no problem.
Minutes later, three Vito vans and three Mercedes Gs descended the gravel road. More men in black came down, repeating the same methodical formation. This time, out of one of the vehicles stepped a man wearing a headscarf and a kind of toga: Yasser Arafat.
Understanding at the Table. The Mysterious Encounter at MasTorrencito:
Rabin rose to greet Arafat. The two men shook hands with a cordiality that perplexed me. Despite everything I had read and heard in the news, there they were, two historic figures, meeting in my home, sharing a moment of apparent peace.
The cooks they had brought with them began preparing dinner. Within minutes, the aroma of spices, fresh herbs and roasts filled the air. The entire team worked quietly, with impeccable precision. When dinner was ready, the table on the terrace looked like something out of a magazine: impeccable, elegant, but unpretentious.
Rabin, Arafat, their wives, and part of the security team dined under the starry sky. I watched from a safe distance, making sure everything was in order. In the meantime, Manuela and Marcos moved between the chairs, winning caresses and the occasional piece of food.
The Quiet Morning
The next morning, calm had returned. The men in black were still watching, but the atmosphere was more relaxed. After breakfast, Rabin and Arafat went for a walk together in the gardens. The two wives accompanied them at first, but soon fell behind, fascinated by the dogs.
Marcos, with his characteristic limp, and Manuela, always curious, became the center of attention. The ladies threw sticks at them, petted them, and talked to each other with a warmth that seemed to transcend languages and differences.
At lunchtime, the two leaders returned, chatting animatedly. The meal was another spectacle: a mix of traditional dishes reflecting the cultures of both. There was something magical about the scene, how they shared laughter and conversation as their teams relaxed a bit, enjoying the hospitality of Más Torrencito.
Final Reflection
When the afternoon came and the helicopters and vehicles took away all the visitors, I stayed on the terrace with Manuela and Marcos. The farmhouse returned to what it had always been: a haven of peace in the middle of nature.
As I watched the sunset, I couldn’t help but think about what had just happened. Two men who, in theory, were on opposite sides, had found a space for understanding. In my little farmhouse, between walks in the woods and shared dinners, they had shown that dialogue was possible.
Perhaps, I thought, the conflicts of the world were nothing more than questions of territory and power. Like dogs that bark at first, but in the end end up playing together.
At that moment, Marcos came over, rested his head on my leg, and Manuela wagged her tail happily. “If they can understand each other,” I said to myself, “why can’t we?”
And so ended one of the most surreal days of my life, with a renewed peace in Más Torrencito, and the certainty that, when you want it, all understanding is possible.
FIN
SHARE IT WITH YOUR FRIENDS…..!!!!!!!
From Mas Torrencito we wish you a good day and that your dog accompanies you !!!!
—
If you want, you can see our vouchers for weekends, retirees vouchers, at an incredible price…go to www.mastorrencito.com or if you want you can read more history and anecdotes that have happened to us in Mas Torrencito… Click here:
