....and relax.

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When you undertake a journey around the World you need first to purchase a vast array of equipment. Of all the bits and bobs we bought before the off, perhaps the finest purchase has to be the 3 pounds spend on a headphone splitter enabling both Claire and I to listen to the same music at the same time. On long journeys (of which there are many) we like to play "MP3 DJ" where each of us takes it in turns to choose a song from our list of 2302 and 192 albums; the aim to create the ultimate DJ set. Our CATA bus to Mendoza made the very most of this game as each seat was provided with its own pair of cans (the big fat earmuff headphones) meaning we were able to crank it up and boogie the journey away!

As we approached Mendoza in the early hours and having travelled across an amazingly flat Argentina, the Andes finally came into view and in the city's suburbs, the vast plains of vineyards for which Mendoza is famed for. After checking into the bright and modern hostel "Alamo", we strolled around the cities plazas and gorgeous tree lined avenues, before drinking a great bottle of Red in the bright hot sunshine. That evening we met a lovely couple in Jamie and Fiona also from England and after sitting down for a movie with them, we went out for a gorgeous dinner and talked for hours about our journey and theirs, driving around the entire coast of Australia.

Our next day was all about wine so after jumping aboard a mini bus with Jay and Fi along with several other travellers from different hostels and two more from our own, we headed out into the suburbs on a full day tour of Mendozas wineries. Taking in 3 different distilleries throughout the day, our first stop was Weinert, a large commercial Bodega founded in 1890 where we were taken for a tour around the dark cellars and given a comprehensive explanation of the wine making process. Down in the cool lowlit cellars, we were shown row upon row of huge casks, one of which held 44,000 litres of wine in European Oak barrells (South American Oak is apparently too aggressive for the wine). Our guide explained how different processes are used to produce varying qualities and types of wine; Vintage crops are generally kept in the cask for several years longer than others, Rose wines are produced by fermenting like red wine for half the time, before removing the skins (which produce the colour) so that the wine can then be treated as if it were white and also of note was the way older wines a natural cork from Portugal is used over the synthetic corks fitted to young wines.

In the tasting room (the best bit) we sampled several different types of wine and were given an explanation on how to assess the quality of the wine so for a good 25 minutes we all stood around talking chocolate and berries and swilled and sniffed in our best Gilly Goulden style. Glad to have some booze inside us we returned to the sunshine and boarded our bus which took us down stunning tree lined roads to another considerably smaller Winery in "Vina el Cerno". On the way, our tour guide explained that with the exellent soil quality in the area, each 20 Hectare piece of land could produce 80,000 bottles of wine per year however each hectare also came with the hefty price tag of 20,000 US Dollars. Passing yet more vineyards on the way, our guide also explained that the vines are covered in black netting ($3,000 US per hectare!) not to protect them from birds or wind but from hailstones which fall in February and March and have in the past devastated entire crops.

This next winery, rather than being run for profit was family owned and still maintained the traditional wine making methods from start to finish. Although the cask cellar was far less impressive, Vina el Cerno ouzed charm as well as the beautiful aroma of Oak infused wine everywhere we walked. Again our tour culminated in more wine tasting, only this time we connoisseurs were talking walnuts, berries and a hint of cuban cigar (ahem). Next on the tour was another distillery but this time not wine but good old hardy liquour! Sadly we can't remember the name or a great deal of other information but it was a big modern building and in its icy interior we sank several shots of flavoured 40% Grappa before returning to the bus and a short drive to our final location and massive 3 hour lunch of Salami, Chorizo and cheeses and yes... more wine! After returning to the hostel we decided that our 2 choices were to sleep or to carry on drinking so with there being no contest, we all walked to the supermarket and stocked up on wine which we sampled and drunk into the early hours over a game of cards.

Having formed an immediate friendship with Jamie and Fiona, the four of us spent the next day walking around the beautiful Parque San Martin where we walked around the huge manmade lake and played frisbee on the green spaces between towering palms. Around the lake there was a hive of athletic activity with joggers, cyclists and even an outdoor step aerobics class! On the way back to the hostel we walked down Mendoza's millionares row where huge elaborate mansions with castle turrets and ornate gates where guarded by fierce looking dogs. Mendoza has an overwhelming relaxed feel about it and walking around its shiny tiled pavements and dappled roads, it is easy to imagine what a good life could be had here. Aside from the perfect climate and perfect soil, the history of winemaking here actually stems from the immigrants who came to Buenos Aires from Europe. After the onset of desease in the districts of La Boca and San Telmo, those who had knowledge of winemaking from Europe decided to move inland rather than resettle in other areas of the Capital.

Keen to try and claw back some of the money we overspent in Buenos Aires we decided to ditch the offer of organised tours and treks to the nearby mountains and instead make our own way there to walk among the pre-Andes range. With the four of us having arrived in Porterillos however, it was soon clear that despite its obvious beauty in the shadow of snow capped peaks, not many tourists take the initiative to find their own treks in these parts. Firstly, a miserable fellow in the bus office directed us in completely the wrong direction to the tourist information centre. Then, after finding it ourselves via streets of ramshackle houses and locals staring, the tourist officer had no maps and couldn't tell us how to walk around the huge manmade lake which we frantically pointed at out the window! A little frustrated we walked down to the lake to find our own route only to realise that in one direction the road went into the lake itself and the other, the path dissapeared into a forest of painful cacti! In the end we just sat on the windy shore and ate our lunch before deciding to catch a bus back to Mendoza and defeat. After changing our return tickets for the earlier bus however, we then stumbled upon the road which led all the way round the lake! What a successful day! When we arrived back at the bus terminal our gloom was compounded by there being no tickets available for our planned journey across the Andes into Chile as the pass was closed due to snowfall.

The next morning, the pass was still closed so in the absence of anything better to do, Claire, I, Jamie and Fiona went back to Parque San Martin for some more sun bathing and frisbee as well as hiring a couple of shonky four wheel bicycle/car things for a spin around the huge rowing lake. On our return to the hostel and having checked with the receptionist to ask whether there was any news on the pass over to Chile, there began an unbeleivable sequence of events to test our patience to the full... first, our receptionist said the pass was open but we couldn´t buy tickets until tomorrow. Sensing she was lying through her teeth I got her to phone the bus company who then said we could buy tickets so we ran to local CATA office only to be told that the pass was closed! Back to the reception, she called again and advised the pass was open and that we can in fact buy tickets for the 10.30am departure from the bus terminal!

So after saying our goodbyes to Fiona and Jay who were headed to BA, we frantically hailed a taxi to the bus terminal and on arrival (in my finest spanish) asked for two tickets for the 10.30am bus to Santiago... The response... no, the pass is closed!! (Aaaaaagggghhhhh!!!)After taking a deep breath and getting a hold on my twitching eye, I spent the next 10 minutes trying to to explain the sequence of events back to the chap, including the fact he himself had just told our hostel it was open. In the end I plumped for, "ok then, I want to reserve tickets for the first bus to leave for Santiago"... the response... Si, 10.30 mañana"!! (... Claire, the gun please?)

South America at times has been funny like that; despite my being able to adequately converse in Castellano, there have been a fair fist full of individuals who´s lack of assistance has been unfathomable. Whereas you will meet some individuals who are hugely welcoming and helpful, there have been a near equal number who it seems would rather you not be in their country at all or at best, would rather your time be as difficult as possible. After a lot of hard work, we left bemused but with two tickets in hand for the next day.

In the morning we successfully left Mendoza and travelled for 4 hours up into the Andes. As we entered the snowline however, we stopped at what appeared to be a checkpoint for 2 hours behind a queue of buses and literally thousands of trucks and haulage lorries. As it turned out, a truck which had been overly eager to get to Santiago had overturned high up on the pass and so it was that 6 hours after leaving Mendoza, our bus made a U turn and headed back the way we came! When we arrived back at the terminal I managed to change our tickets for the same bus the next morning with unexpected ease and went back to the hostel only to find they had no water (at all)!

Leaving Argentina (Take 2)... Still with no water, we awoke and again headed for the bus terminal with all our gear. This time at the terminal, we weren´t allowed to board the bus and were told to go back to the office to confirm our passport numbers. This turned out to be a complete lie as the company had in fact just introduced a new charge which everyone had to pay (presumably to make some money back for the failed trip yesterday) so I hustled with about 40 other screaming passengers to pay and get a stamp on our tickets. Queuing by the way in all of South America is an unknown concept... you can wait 20 minutes to push your way to the front and then, when you are in the middle of a conversation with the person on duty, someone will shout from behind and they will immediately have the full attention of the person you are talking to... So after a few strategically placed elbows and a loud and sarcastic "Er, Ola!" I got what we needed and boarded the coach.

By now smelling rather fruity, we nervously watched the same landscape pass by and tentatively cheered when we plodded past our point of return from the day before. Thankfully, as we passed ski resorts and houses buried by snow, there were no further holdups on the way to the border. The landscape as we rose higher and higher was spectactular and on the way we passed Puerte del Inca (Inca door), a gigantic natural cave through which the White river passes and under which, meter long icicles dripped in the bright sunlight. After motoring through a long tunnel in the mountain and hearing the announcment of our arrival in Chilean territory we emerged the other side and passed a road train of trucks about a mile long to join a queue of about 6 buses at the border crossing iteslf. Unfortunately for the next 2 and a half hours we didn´t move an inch and could only presume that there was a problem with a passenger on one of the coaches ahead. Eventually after 3 hours we did start to move but progress was painfully slow.

Having already entered Chile for one night before flying to Rio, we already had experience of their rather anal customs process but after finally pulling into the hangar like border control we immediately realised why we had been queuing for so long. First we had to queue to get our Argentina exit stamps, then, to get our Chile entry stamps all the while sniffer dogs were released into the crowds. Then we shuffled over to a different side of the building where everybody from our coach were lined up in front of benches on which we had to place our hand luggage. Without any organisation at all, our immigration forms were randomly collected by a system of shouting and another sniffer dog was sent scurrying along the benches in front of us as all of our main luggage was taken off the coach to be scanned. Several poor people had carefully wrapped presents brutally unwrapped by customs officers with accusing stares and generally everyone in the room was treated like they were about to be shot. I unfortunately happened to make matters worse by having the smell of apples in my bag and was the source of laughter and inquisition as the sniffer dog ripped the contents of my bag onto the floor.

All in all, I suppose this dissorganised and over the top border crossing quite adequately capped off a lousy two days but finally, 5 hours after joining a queue of just 5 buses, we left the snowy hangar in near darkness and on a steep and winding journey down to Santiago. Our time in Mendoza was delightful, relaxing and enjoyable and the lethargic way of life lived in the city was the perfect ending to our time in Argentina. Although border crossings do nothing for your first impressions of a country we were mutedly looking forward to our final country in South America, Chile.

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Comments

[Faye]

Nice!
Hey, you'll have to teach me a thing or two about wine now that you are both connoisseurs! Good luck with the rest of your adventure. Lots of love Faye xx