Mendoza - a Desert Oasis

Our early morning walk from the train station to our hostel showed us the wonderful side of Argentina that we did not see certainly in Buenos Aires, but also did not really see in Cordoba - cleanliness. Mendoza is on a grid system with a five main plazas that are pretty immaculate - with benches, working fountains, and early in the morning, city employees cleaning the park. During our twenty minute walk we saw two street sweepers, which reminded us of home and the cleanliness of Chicago. Before we even entered the hostel we concluded that we liked Mendoza.

We booked four nights at Hostel Alamo on a recommendation and immediately liked it. It was a little outside of the immediate downtown area, but close to everything. It was on a more residential street. There was a little courtyard in the back, a quiet living room area, and no loud music. And, there was a cute little house cat named Momo. Don’t tell our Tobi we were cheating on her. We planned on staying in Mendoza a week and thought we would check out the hostel for four nights and add on dates if we liked it. We immediately liked it and added on a few more days, and a few more after that. We had to change rooms three times, but did not mind. In the end we stayed almost two weeks at Hostel Alamo - it was one of the best places we have stayed on our trip. By the end, I am sure Max and Dario, two of the employees were sick of us. But I know Momo will miss us. Check out the hostel below:

http://www.hostelalamo.com/english_version/

Food Tour of Mendoza

We immediately became comfortable in Mendoza. The streets are lined with trees like no city I have ever seen. None of them are native, though. Mendoza is like an oasis in the desert, and a lot of work has gone into irrigation to bring the water from the melting snow of the Andes to the vineyards and into the city. Part of this resulted with the government planting trees throughout the city. The plazas are immaculate and well maintained. The irrigation system also leads to small canals or troughs of water that run down many of the streets, between the road and the sidewalk. I wondered how many accidents and broken ankles occur with drunks coming home at 5am and falling in. Most important, every street is lined with outdoor cafes and restaurants.

We were back to being creatures of habit and found a few places to incorporate into our rotation of coffee, ice cream, beef, and pasta. We found a corner restaurant on Plaza Independencia called Quinta Norte. They had a menu of the day special that we found on our first day and for less than $4 we had a thin grilled steak with a fried egg on top and salad or potato. We had that several times at Quinta Norte. We also went there for a late breakfast of café con leche and two fracturas, which were similar to medialunas, but these were sweeter and were served warm with a cool glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, all for less than $2.

Also, with Mexican virtually absent from my diet during this trip, the burrito I had in Buenos Aires tied me over, but I was still craving. In Mendoza we found a taco bar that served Iguana brand beer and individual tasty grilled steak tacos. They were soft tacos with guacamole, peppers, lettuce and totally yummy. I knew at least the quality of the beef in the tacos would be good in this country. I also had a taco with a sweet corn mixture that was quiet unique. The small amount of spicy salsa served on the side was the spiciest thing we had in the country.

But, one thing missing from our diet remained vegetables. One night we bought some cheese, meat, and bread for a light dinner at the hostel. I thought a cucumber would be nice to spread some soft cheese on, and I was really looking for a salad. We could not buy a cucumber at the local Carrefour supermarket. The rest of the vegetable selection was unbelievably poor. The electronics department of the market had more selection than the produce department and the wine section was at least twice as large. We ended up with a “salad” of shredded lettuce, shredded cabbage, and shredded carrots. It did the trick, but vegetables remained predominantly left out of our diet. We were told that the supermarket only carries what is currently in season and cucumbers were not in season. I have never had to think about whether cucumbers were in season before; I just take for granted that I can always get a cucumber. I was also told the central market has a better selection of fresh good looking vegetables, but this still remained an issue for me.

One of the best places we found in Mendoza was listed in the Lonely Planet - La Barra. La Barra is not really a building, but more like a roof suspended between two other buildings. It had a very rustic feel to it, with a small outdoor patio in the back. We settled into a table in front of the huge grill, which is manned by the owner, who does not speak any English but had a great personality. We ordered the bife de chorizo, the large steak that Eric has had a few times before. It was, once again, one of the best steaks we ever had. We ordered the giant steak along with a thin pork loin and French fries with parsley and garlic. Watching the man at the grill was educational to say the least. We watched him slice off the thick chunk of steak and I thought, “that is a monster.” We watched as he seasoned all the meat with only salt. We read in Lonely Planet that he uses two kinds of wood, one for flavor and one for heat. But what is it that makes the meat in Argentina so incredible? I feel as though I have spent my time in Chicago trying to dress up meat with marinades, peppercorns, olive oil, and more. And, here we keep seeing geniuses with meat who use a wood fire and salt and make a chunk of red meat into a masterpiece deserving of the Louvre.

We promised ourselves we would return to La Barra, and we did, with a wine picked up during a wine tasting out of town. We sat down for another huge bife de chorizo and some beef short ribs. The ribs had a strip of meat on one side that had a bit of tasty grizzle to it. I have always liked various kinds of ribs, but these were so tender and lean. I found myself licking the salt off of the bone because it was so tasty. We were in food heaven. La Barra was amazing.

And, after trying pizza in Buenos Aires, I was willing to give the Argentine pizza one more time. We went to one of the most recommended pizza joints in Mendoza. It is well known due to its crust. It was nice because we could bring a bottle of wine with no corkage fee. The pizza itself was, well, not NY pizza and not Italian pizza. The crust was thick, but the cheese was congealed. I like a good liquidy cheese. Also, all of the pizzas here come with olives, not Eric’s favorite. Not to be dismayed we tried a wood fired pizza one night that was huge. One half had mozzarella and provolone cheese with garlic. It was okay. The other half had pancetta and mushrooms. It must have had all of the mushrooms in the entire city. It was the best pizza we have had in Argentina, but still not my cup of tea. I have my allegiances. But, I have tried pizza at least four times in this country and it is just not for me. Lo Siento Argentina.

Eccentric Evening

One of our last nights in Mendoza we finally went to a wine tasting room in the city called Vines of Mendoza. They are known for their wine flights and we settled in for a tour of fantastic Argentinean Malbecs and a platter of five different kinds of cheeses. I was in heaven. It was definitely a value in comparison to a similar tasting in the US. We paid $18 for each flight, with some pretty hefty pours, and less than $10 for the plate of cheese. After we finished our flight we moved into the covered patio for a full glass of wine. It was still early for Argentina standards - we arrived at Vines around 6pm. By their closing time at 10pm we had merged our table with a girl from New York, a Chilean from Los Angeles, and an eccentric woman of the world - born in Poland, but lived in Russia and France, and now lives in Buenos Aires. She is looking for work in the Mendoza wine world. We sat together and chatted for awhile and ended up agreeing to go out and grab a bit to eat somewhere. We ended up cruising in a car up to Ave Villanueva and settling into an all you can eat meat feast. It was a good evening chatting with new friends, but definitely one of our more unique experiences, driving around with complete strangers late at night in Mendoza looking for food and wine. And, our new Polish friend was the definition of eccentric, very loud, boisterous, and with such a zest for life. After stuffing myself with meat and wine I crashed pretty hard that night trying to remember the whirl of interesting conversation.

Adventure Day

We were trying to be less lazy in Mendoza, and tried to organize several day trips. On Thursday, we headed out of the city for a day of adventure, much like our New Zealand days. We drove for about an hour in a shuttle bus out to Potrerillos, on the way to the Chilean border. We drove through an industrial area, past petroleum refineries (the number one industry in Argentina; wine is number two), and into the Andes. More accurately, we were in a rocky, mountainous, desert environment, with the Andes in the distance. We arrived at a rafting company, Argentina Rafting. There were a large number of people preparing to hit the rapids, one of the most popular events they organize. We, however, were there for something outside of the water. We have wanted to try a zipline for quite some time now and this was our chance. A zipline is a metal rope suspended between two tall points, usually over a forest or valley of some sort. You strap yourself only to the rope and quicly slide down to the other side. We had a small group, just five of us with two tour guides. We each strapped on some harnesses around our waste and legs, along with a little helmet and in minutes we were climbing up a rock for a safety lesson on how to strap ourselves to a metal cord and zip across a canyon.

It has been awhile since we completed any of our adventure activities. I was out of practice, was actually getting nervous, and was wondering what I was doing up there. At the start of the trip everything was “no fear,” if you remember, leading to zorbing, climbing the Sydney Harbour Bridge, paragliding, and the crème de la crème of bungy jumping. But, since then, we have relaxed into our normal routine, and once we reached Asia our idea of adventure and no fear involved just trying to cross the street in Ho Chi Minh City and touring China without a guidebook. I started to wonder what I was doing up there. I was somewhat relieved that the rest of our party included a young married couple from Buenos Aires with his 60+ year old mother. I tried to be brave. If she could do it, I could do it.

After our safety demonstration, we climbed to the top of a rock peak overlooking a muddy river and a dry desert surrounding us. The first line was a training line, not too long and not too steep. In my mind I always thought I would be doing a zipline in some green, lush forest canopy, perhaps in Costa Rica. I imagined that if I fell it would seem soft below. Here, even though the zipline was not high, I thought if I fell it would hurt pretty bad with the sharp and jagged rocks below and nothing to break my inevitable roll downhill. We were given instructions and after the family from Buenos Aires (along with the mom) made their way across, one of the guides attached me to the cord, asked me to raise my feet until my body dangled from the cord and let me slide across the small canyon. I could feel the wind on my face and quickly arrived on the other side. I survived. And, I actually liked it. We did three more lines over the rocky canyon below. Each line was longer and more step than the last.

Then, we approached the river. It was a long and steep silver line right across the river. The river had a sand bank in the middle, and I was happy to see there were no body shaped impressions in the sand, like a zip line caused a chalk outline a la Law and Order. This was my favorite line. It was pretty darn long and we were told not to slow ourselves down because the cord inclined at the end and we needed to ensure we would make it across. I was going so fast my glasses started to shake and twitch from the wind and speed. It was thrilling. But, just like what goes up must come down, when one crosses a river, one needs to make it back again.

So, we took a little break after getting to the other side and then took a short trek up onto a peak overlooking the river. We were warned that our last zip would be tandem, with Eric and I each going with one of the instructors. Usually, an instructor went first, then the five of us, and then an instructor followed to ensure each of us had someone to help us on each side of the line. Eric was first to go. He crouched under the line facing with his back towards the river and one of the guides, Tito, hooked them both onto the line facing each other. Eric was told to place his legs over Tito’s and to let go of the line and practice leaning backwards. Eric started to try and quickly said “F*ck that.” Tito relented and when they started their way over Eric was on the line heading backwards, leaning parallel to the line, and Tito held his legs upward to simulate flying. He made it over. After the family from Buenos Aires, it was my turn with the other guide, Ramon.

Ramon gave me the same instructions as Eric, and when he and I were both secure on the line he told me to take my hands off of the cord and to hang my head back and let my hands go. This was a test to see how I would feel hanging from the line before we actually made our way across. I leaned back and my first instinct was to hold my helmet on, which was fairly ridiculous considering that I did not care whether the helmet fell off so long as I stayed attached. I told Ramon I was ready and he helped me back into the seated position, with my back facing the river, and my legs straddling his. He pushed us off of the rock and after we gained speed he tapped my leg, the sign for me to lean back, and to release my hands from cord, which I did. I thought for sure I would chicken out. After my hands hung below me he lifted my legs into the air so that I was almost perpendicular to the ground. I was hanging fully down with only the cord around my waist holding me on. It was amazing, although after about 10 or 15 seconds I could have totally gone back to the seated position. But, I had no signal to give to Ramon to tell him to bring me up and I could not, from that angle, do it on my own. I felt like I was hanging there for a full minute before he pulled me safely back up and we arrived at the other side of the river. I was so proud of myself, and Eric was pretty amazed too that I actually removed my hands from the cord. He said I was braver than he until I reminded him which one of us had an injury and slight scar from not removing her hands from the bungy cord in New Zealand.

Get Along Little Horsey

With the adrenaline part of the day was over, we sat down for a beer in the warm sun overlooking the river. We read, had some lunch, and waited for our afternoon tour. Eric and I along with a couple from Canada took a little bus about a kilometer from the rafting station for some good ole fashion horseback riding, or cabalgata. I have been riding once before in my life back in high school, and Eric, who has never been before, was not too thrilled about this activity. The owner of the horses was very nice and asked us our experience level before choosing horses for us. I was the first to mount and just prayed that my horse would not suddenly take off. I tried to sit as still as possible while the rest of the group mounted. After receiving some brief instructions on how to control the horse, we were off through the neighborhood to head out into the desert.

My horse was slow, no ifs, ands, or buts about it. Immediately I fell behind the other four horses and no matter how many times I kicked the side of the horse, she just went nowhere real fast. At first, I was afraid to kick the horse really hard because, god forbid, what if it took off and I could not control it. It did not take long for our tour leader to stop the tour, come around to the back of the group, and have his horse stick its nose right up my horse’s rear to prod him along. So, I ended up in the front of the group for almost the entire tour, setting the pace for the rest of the group, and listening to the tour leader make clicking noises with his mouth to encourage my horse to giddy up.

We turned off the main road and entered the desert scenery. It was dry with prickly bushes and dry hills. In the distance were the snow capped Andes. It was truly remarkable scenery. We meandered through a rocky stream, listening to the horses splash through the water. I became incredibly nervous when we climbed a little hill and knew that my poor little horse would need to make it down again, but I survived. Towards the end the tour leader decided I did not need any more help and I immediately fell behind and barely made it back to the ranch. I kept trying to kick my horse to make her go, but no matter how many times I kicked, no matter how hard I kicked, and no matter where I placed my feet, that horse did not move. I thought I would be left behind. Speaking of behind, I had a sore little tushy when I dismounted and for a few days after. In the end, I enjoyed myself, but was more nervous about how Eric would feel. Horseback riding was not on the top of Eric’s to do list, but he was told he was a natural. I blame my equipment for making me look ridiculous.

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