It had to be a woman

We set out early, in December it gets light at 5 am.

We savored the marvel of the silence that wrapped around us like a magic cloak, at last the stretch of road linking Sierra de los Padres with Bahía Blanca had been opened. We reached Sierra de los Padres where we witnessed a sight we never could have imagined, the mountain split down the middle, showing its insides like a ripe fruit. The sun caressed it and it answered with the gleam of freshly cut stone, from which irregular chunks still hung, looking like tears lit up by the sun.

The road was narrow and still had no shoulder, faced with so much beauty and thinking of the people traveling with me, so they could enjoy it too, I stopped on the road, I wanted to take in more of the sight and capture it in a photograph to remember.

At that moment the spell was broken by some honking and a man, pleasant enough in appearance, asked what was wrong with me, when he saw I was taking a photograph he started insulting me with words that don't exist in my vocabulary, but his last line stuck with me: "It had to be a woman."

That's when I realized my mistake and with my best smile I told him, "Sorry, it was a bad move, but it had to be a man not to appreciate such a marvelous sight," I glanced into his car and the woman riding with him was smiling, a knowing look on her face.

I got back in and continued on the road and the man couldn't pass me for a good stretch because two cars couldn't pass at once. By the time I got to Bahía, "it had to be a woman" was still ringing in my ears, marking the end of an era that will soon be history.