Mendoza Wine Country
Day 15: Traveling to Wine Country
"My life began when I moved to NYC." This cant be true and I won't say it out loud, but I think it in my head sometimes. I wouldn't be in South America if it wasn't for New York. I wouldn't have gotten into the only grad school I applied to. These two things are facts. I didn't embrace fear and vulnerability the same way before. Im sitting at the Santiago bus station on my way back from Valparaiso averting my eyes from the homeless man trying to get my attention and the parked truck of men whistling and I realize how unaffected I am. I would be horrified before New York. I probably would've gone back to my hostel and cried in secret then booked a ticket home. Now I'm surprised I even notice these unpleasantries. It was a turbulent flight to Mendoza. The Andes we're crossing are invisible. I envision a peak showing through the clouds as we realize we're too low. I've watched too many movies. A glimpse of mortality. A quick run through any regrets I have. None. The people I love know how I feel. Dramatic. We come through the clouds to a gray rainstorm and I can see the lights of the city. Way bigger than Napa. When we finally land without incident, everyone claps. I hate it when humans do this. I take a cab to Hotel Mallorca knowing in advance it should be no more than 170 pesos ($12) to town center. The hostel is beautiful. There is an overly abundant garden terrace and a cute little cactus filled rooftop patio. It's a bit further from town, but $40/night for a private room with bath is hard to beat. I drop my bags and head out in the rain to find food. Food. I'm always thinking of my next meal. Especially now that I'm back in delicious Argentina with its rich cuisine. I go to La Aldea and order verduras a la plancha. Delicious.
Recurring theme: It is impossible to get your bill in Latin America. You need to get up and go find a waiter in order to be served. They avoid eye contact like the plague. I think it's because they don't want you to think they're pushing you out, but it gets a little ridiculous... Day 16: Rainy Mendoza It's rainy and wet and I have a sinus infection from Patagonia. It supposedly only rains about 10 days a year here yet I have chosen one of those days to begin my vacation. Less than ideal for vineyard hopping through the place where 75% of all wine in Latin America is made. I find an Internet cafe and a wave of productivity hits me. I send in 12 applications to work on farms this summer. I decide to try to find a doctor for some antibiotics. At the third place of me pointing to my nose in Spanglish, a ridiculously handsome doctor sees me within ten minutes and I only have to pay $30. Sometimes socialized medicine is cool. Tomorrow I'll be back on my feet drinking at bodegas, but tonight I'm beginning my addiction to 13 Reasons Why on Netflix. A quick stop at Maria Antonieta's French cafe for cena and I'm back to the hostel. Tomorrow is a big day. Day 17: The Perfect Day The first friend I made on this grand South American adventure returns. Canadian Scott. The guy gets off a 24 hour bus at 9AM in the morning and immediately comes to meet me for a day of exploring. He's a trooper. It's the most gorgeous blue sky day I think I've seen so far this trip. There are three wine regions outside Mendoza, but two are only accessible by tour or private car. We decide to take the metrotranvia to Maipu to rent bikes. This is a good time to mention I've stopped overplanning things. For the most part, I'm going with the flow. This is new to me. I know there are two bike companies recommended to me somewhere off the end of the metro. We start walking and realize... we're far. Real far. Scott's a good sport and trusts my decision making despite the fact I'm not sure I do judging by the neighborhood we're in. 45 minutes later, we make it to Mr. Hugo's and we're excited to get on our way. For $6, cute old Mr. Hugo gives us a map and tells us we have to be back by 6:30. They recommend 4 bodegas, but one is blocked by road construction so it may be better to avoid. Naturally, Scott insists we start with that one. Men. We get on our way, swerving through construction, getting lost, annoying locals. Around midday, we roll up to Bodega Domiciano. It's gorgeous. Quintessential white walled building surrounded by colorful vineyards with the snow capped Andes in the distance. Domiciano is named after the winemaker's grandfather and the 5 stars on the logo represent his children. We take the tour underground and learn about the French and American oak barrels the Malbec grapes love to live in. I learn that Syrah is the oldest grape in the world. I learn never to buy grand reserve wine at the supermarket because of the effects of the artificial light and I'm surprised I hadn't thought of this. Now for the best part: the tasting. $6 for 3 glasses + an extra because of Mr. Hugo. I love Argentina.
After strolling the vineyards and picking grapes and olives, we jump back on the bikes and head 5.5km to the next vineyard. We weave back through the construction and because I'm not a motocross expert like Scott jumping over curbs, the chain falls off my bike. Scott to the rescue. We're covered in grease, but undisturbed. Back on our bikes, we finally turn off the city road onto Perito Moreno. Ironically, the street is named after the glacier where Scott and I became friends in Patagonia. Beautiful enormous trees have towered over each side of Calle Perito Moreno creating a tunnel. The trees feel welcoming and protective of the vineyards running alongside. I think this day can't get any better...
We fly around the corner into Bodega Mevi and I spot them. Two puppies. Awkward unsteady legs with big smiles and panting tongues. I drop my bike... Puppies. Vineyards. Argentina. I could die in this moment. I eventually pull myself from the grips of their puppy paws and we ride through the vineyards to the tasting room. We have lunch and the grande reserva tasting of three on the porch overlooking the Andes.
Full and feeling the wine, we jump back on the bikes to the last place. I wonder if Scott could put me in his basket and ride me back if I don't make it. We arrive to Tempus Alba, the fanciest of them all, and I pick the tasting menu of three on the porch. It's time to introduce ourselves to Malbec Rosè. Chilled wine hits the spot after a long day in the sun. Brimming with wine and content, we realize we only have 25 minutes to make it back the 4 km to Mr. Hugo's. Scott convinces me we can hit the Cerveceria and still make it back in time.
We jump back on the bikes and hit the road. We're swerving through obstacles like pros and I'm feeling invincible. Overconfidence is my kryptonite. This is where the video of my life goes in slow motion. There is a lady in front of me walking in the bike lane and I make the judgment I can squeeze between her and the concrete divider. I say "a la derecha" (on the right) and she looks over her right shoulder and sees me. I've slowed down to a crawl, but she doesn't move. When I hit her, the woman falls with the impact of a freight train. Im standing there stunned trying to understand how she fell so hard and saying "I'm sorry" in Spanish over and over until Scott runs up with his impeccable language skills and fixes everything. A little old woman comes to get the lady and they hobble off giving me the side eye the whole time. Truly embarrassed, I turn to Scott to ask what I did wrong and he's dying laughing. He kindly insists it wasn't my fault and laughs at me for the rest of the day. Okay, we really need that beer now. One last stretch of road. Motocross Scott jumps another curb and my chains fall off again. This time I flip the bike over and fix it before Scott gets a chance to make it back to me. Impressed with my recovery and laughing from the days exploits, we pull into Cerveceria and down two rubias in record time. We end up making it back to Mr Hugo's only 4 minutes late. Scott gets us directions to the bus (apparently the correct way to get to Maipu) and we're on the way back to Mendoza. We don't have the proper bus card, but the driver lets us ride for free. Gringos. We cap off the perfect day with a delicious Cab Franc and dinner at El Mercadito on Mendoza's most vibrant street, Aristides Villanueva.
Day 18: Exploring Town Today we want to go fly fishing, but we don't commit early enough and we can't find anyone to take us. So instead we decide to eat and drink our way through the city. Delicious coffee at Zeke. The Argentinian specialty: a lomo sandwich and rubia ales at Cornelius. Scott insists I haven't had a proper asado and can't leave Argentina without one so we go to El Asadito for our second lunch of beef and Malbec. Despite the fact we've both been here awhile, we still can't figure out the Latin schedule. Do people have 9-5 jobs? When you wake up, the towns are sleepy and slowly moving. Restaurants open at noon and close at 3 then open back up no earlier than 8. The shops seem to open around 5 and close at 9. Do working people siesta? What do you do after work and before dinner? The mystery continues... With Scott's imminent departure to hike Aconcagua (the highest summit in the Western Hemisphere) outside Mendoza, I decide to catch the flight back to Santiago so I can continue to Atacama. It's sad letting go of the people you meet along the road, but it's even more serendipitous when you see them again. Until then...