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Published: July 25th 2006
San Martins´ Park
A nice place to chill, and watch the mullets go by. Sightly dazzed after some intense local buses to Mendoza we decided to make Monday a rest day to recharge and plan our time in the area. After our first lie in in some time we headed out into the city, which has a rather Alpine feel, wandered through their five main plazas, and stopped to eat in one of the pedestrianized streets while a production of (We think) The Little Prince (A French play about a chap whose plane crashes in Patagonia) went on next to us. Retired to the most pleasant Argentine park we´ve found yet, drank coke and read our books until early evening while passing comments on the examples of 80´s hairstyles which are either making a comeback in Argentina, or, worse still, never left. Retired to a pizza house on one of the main streets, ordered the cheapest pizza and bottle of wine on the menu and stayed for four and a half (Thanks to another bottle of wine) rather merry hours before heading back to the hostel, a few brief conversations with other travelers, and then bed.
We´d booked a tour of Mendoza´s vineyards for the next day so forced ourselves out of bed at
the ungodly hour of 9 and jumped onto the tour minibus, hosted by a jolly Argentine beard with a small man attached. Each Argentine winery seems to have a small shoulder chip as a result of being, well, Argentine, and so puts genuine effort into showing guests either their latest technology, their traditional methodes of production, and, happily, a fair quantity of the finished product. 6 such tours, an all you can eat lunch and a chocolate factory tour thrown in for good measure later we all felt rather more knowlegable. Before we entered a state in with such things failed to register though, probably the most striking thing was the dispartity in wealth between the internationaly trading wine producers and the rest of the country - and Argentina is, compared to Bolivia and Peru at least, a remarkably developed country for the continent. After saying cheerio to the British couple we´d been going round with we picked up a pizza and watched the film Xmen3 on the big screen. Our first regret of the trip, and a mistake for which I hold Ian entirely to blame. Elated at the end of the film to rediscover life was worth living
The wine tour
A big barrel of malbec we conversed with some of our fellow backpackers for a while.
Mendoza is the first hostel (With the exception of Buenos Aires and Vallie Fertille where we were a bit out of the way) we´ve stayed in that isn´t utterly dominated by the British. There seems to be something in the water that convinces everyone to up sticks and roam - theories we´ve heard thus far (Both from North Americans) include, "We guess you guys just get claustophobic on your little island." and "Doesn´t it rain a lot there?" which Ian and I have dismissed as being, well, from North Americans. At first we blamed (Or creditied) the gap year phenomenon, but even this doesn´t seem to account for it, and we´re left with the rather weak explanation that it´s just a cultural occurance. Still, useful if your Spanish is, like ours, not great. (Though noticably improved.)
Boarded a bus for some hot "medicinal" springs about 40km from Mendoza the next morning, having just put our only towel into the hostel laundry system (I managed to leave my new travel towel in Salta). Luckily the day, like the day before and after, was sweltering and we eventualy had
Barrels and Barrels of the stuff
If I drink three litres a day, that´s 1095 litres a year, if I live for 70 more years thats 76650 litres! Damn thats only 1 and a half barrels, 38.5 left. no problems dripping dry. The hot waters have been channeled into several pools and what looks like a summer only (It´s winter here) water park. With the miriad of stresses Ian and I are both under we especialy appreciated the chance to sit in hot water and do, um, nothing, for a while. The springs are on the edge of a valley with a rather impressive mountain river running through the base which we decided to explore afterwards, this being a well planned expedition, in flipflops. Back in the hostel we decided to cook for ourselves (I.e, we decided Ian should cook for us). We soon discovered that what we though was cheap steak was nothing of the sort and picked ourselves up 4 large juicy specimines and some apples for just under two pounds. Having been forced at Sandhurst to become proficient in washing, ironing and dusting, uttery inability in the kitchen has since been my last male bulwark. I was therefore taken aback to witness Ian happily chopping up herbs, commenting on the best way to get the flavour out of a clove of garlic etc, and finaly producing one of the best meals we´ve enjoyed thus far.
If I hadn´t met Caroline in person (Ians' girlfriend) I think I´d be a little worried - as it is I´m just slightly philosophicaly shaken by the revelation that one of my (Straight & male) contemporaries can cook.
Had booked horseriding for the next day so faced another early start at around nine, once again punctualy picked up around 9:45. A mini bus took us and a couple of French students up into the mountains with our guide, who, along with many of the Argentines can't pronounce Ian (There being no Spanish equivalent) leaving me and my vastly inferior Spanish to bear the brunt of the conversation. After signing disclaimers which proclaimed the company non liable for mild injury, serious injury or death we mounted our particulaly healthy looking animals and with comprehensive instruction (Consisting of "Just follow me") attemped to follow the guide. From unpromsing beginings both Ian and I managed quickly to master the art of horsemanship and spent most of the first half of the day racing each other and attempting to ovetake the guides, who annoyingly shot past whith apparent ease whenever we thought we'd gotten the hang of it. For most of the racing
The hot springs
Well the river next to them anyway. I managed to hold the upper hand; however I did have something of an advantage since my horse, unlike Ians', was neither female nor heavily pregnant. After a break for tea and bread we set off down some mountain tracks before seperating from the french (Who had been continualy presented along route with herbs the guide proudly announced were aphrodisiacs) and went back to Mendoza. Spent the remainder of the day back in the park where "National friendship day" had brough forth still more prime examples of 80´s mullets. In the morning we were leaving genuinely early - 4:30 - so decided to skip the evening Asado (Since we probably wouldn't have been in bed for the departure time) and again prepared steak and chipped potatoes, with beer and an apple; this time for the grand sum of 9.46 pesos - less than 50p each. We also both picked up some gloves from a local shop, which I managed to lose before we set off to go skiing the next day. - David
4:30 is an evil hour to be woken up by a beeping alarm when you're at home, but to be woken up at this time when
Ian considers the risks
Slight injury, serious injury or death may result. on holiday is just murder. Still, get up we did and force ourselves to walk along the still busy streets of Mendoza, where a variety of people were sitting in cafes drinking, to catch a bus to Los Pennites.
A sleepless two hours later the bus stopped, as these buses do so often, by the side of the road for seemingly no reason at all for an entire hour while we just sat there getting restless and annoyed. Finally got to the ski resort at around 10 am to find a great cloudy sky and the first signs of snow fall in the air. The hostel was a very cosy little place which slept over twenty in close quarters. We managed to collect our lift passes and board hire by 11 am then hit the slopes. In total it cost us around 30 pounds for the day, not bad when Milton Keyens costs 18 for 1 hour. The weather it seemed was out to get us and started to close in so that the lift from the mid startion to the top was closed indefinitaly. The skiing conditions weren´t great and the light was very flat making it had
to see any drops or rises in the snow. This had the result of making Dave and I fall over numerous times, which he protests never normally happens (6 times that day suggests otherwise). Still, had an awesome time and retired from the slopes happy.
In the hostel after watching Munich we were greeted with an all you could eat pizza buffet with the standard toppings; garlic, egg, and onion etc. After a long chat to some of the other people staying in the hostel, including a pleasant couple from Liverpool and an American determined to educate the local Argentines on the subject of English swear words, we crawled into bed ready to go to Chile the next day.
With Dave still snoozeling I got up to have some breakfast. After a while I decided to go out side for a little wander. However upon opening the door I found my way somewhat blocked by a howling snow storm and six feet of snow pilled up against the door. The Barrier of snow was at first amusing, then the thought struck us that the road may not be open. We checked. It wasn´t. After the treck to the
Overtake
Damn that speed fiend. road (only 400 meters from the hostel taking 20 minutes) through the vertical snow we found evidence of the road with two feet of snow on it, and no vehicles in sight.
The prospect of being snowed in came upon us along with cabin fever. To stem the onset of bordem we invented snow driff jumping (Leaping from the highest point we could find into the largest snow drift we could find). Started one snow cave, and following its collapse started a second. We also managed to exhaust the hostels´ film library and the chess set (Series now stands at 7-5 to Ian, oh yea) before going to bed. Early the next morning the road was still closed but there was a prospect of it reopening later; so we started our third (Best) snow cave/snow palace. This monstrosity streached back at least 6 metres and was 1.5 metres high, with numourous different rooms and pillars.
The road was opened, but not in the way we wanted. No buses were going and it was only open to Mendoza. With reports of worse weather to come we made a quick decision to head back to Mendoza where we had come from,
Home cooked steak
This cost us 50p each. and then retrace our steps several thousand km to Salta and enter Chile from there. Great. We wandered around the car park asking everybody for lifts. We finally found two Argentine brothers (Jack and Max) and there families who could fit us into their convoy of three cars. They were locals who came to Los Pennites every weekend and said these were the worst conditions since 1986. The family were extremely friendly and they treated us to a Parilla ( A very large Mixed on a hot plate), during they seemed to take doubleing our body weight as a challange - we even had two typical deserts (Sweet and cheese and flan with dulce de leche). It was a new experience to actualy have a meal with an entire Argentine family and their kindness really made an impression. They even more generously refused to let us pay.
Now - back in Salta again after spending all night and day on a bus back up from Mendoza, hoping to cross into Chile tomorrow. But with our luck at the moment it may not happen like that... - Ian
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Caroline
non-member comment
Helloo from a scottish fan!
Hey guys, sounds like its going really well, apart from the weather but it looks like you had fun despite the hold up! You two look like you're having an awesome time out there. :) Dave - the beard?! Very cool. I wonder if you can go all summer without shaving and come back to uni all hairy? Hehehe. Ian - maybe you should teach Dave a little of your amazing cooking skills so he doesn't feel quite so inferior. You're right, it is a good entry to your travelblog, hope you appreciate that I'm still up to read it! By the way, completely off topic but thanks to people like you two and other Englishmen, I'm now getting a lot of stick from my friends back home saying that I talk with an English accent. Whats that about?? Anyway, I hope you're having a great evening. Miss you a little bit more, even you Dave Xxxxxxx