A little bit of deja vu circa 2008

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After my flying visit to Iguazu Falls, I was off to Mendoza. If you look on a map (maybe even the one that is hopefully at the top of this post) you'll see that in the course of a week I managed to hit three of the boundaries of Argentina; North at Iguazu (with Brazil), East at Bs As (with Uruguay), and West at Mendoza (with Chile). And of course, in less than another five days I'd be at the South of the country in Ushuaia.

Now, if Argentina was the size of Tasmania, or England say, I'd feel confident that I could say I had seen a fair bit of the country during the course of that week. When the country is the size of Argentina (it takes up a fair chunk of a continent) all I can say is that I feel like I have an incredibly thin sense of the country. That and an impression of distance and comfortable buses.

By the time I got back to Bs As, at 9am on Thursday morning, the scratchy feeling in my throat had developed into a full-blown cold. I'll choose to blame the aircon on the buses rather than the chances that I may have picked something up from the pool at Hostel-Inn.

Anyway, I spent the day in Bs As, stocking up on vitamins and cold tablets, plus some good coffee and medialunas (croissants). I then headed back to the Bus Station, retrieved my bags and jumped on the bus, having learnt to just go with the last minute announcements of parking bays.

The coach ride to Mendoza was mainly occupied by MBA students from Chicago who were spending a term in Bs As. Not sure what they were studying down here as they seemed to get long weekends left right and centre. Of course that might also help to explain the GFC back in 2007, as well as a host of other corporate disasters.

Got to watch The Notebook on the coach. For a country that apparently places an emphasis on machismo there seems to be a bias towards chick flicks when it comes to movies on buses. Although one coach did show some Steven Seagal movie... The guy who was dubbing Seagal into Spanish is a far more convincing actor than Seagal. Seriously, Seagal sounds much better as a bass Spanish speaker.

Something for Hollywood to think about.

Anyway, arrived in Mendoza and headed to the Hostel Demajuana. Turns out that this place is on the main entertainment street of town, with all the good bars, restaurants and clubs within a block of either side.

Plus it had a pool. Nowhere near as large as the one at the Hostel-Inn in Iguazu but still a good size for people to laze in and around. In keeping with my (limited) experience of pools in hostels, there were already plenty of people taking the opportunity to catch some rays by the side of the pool.

Now the plan for Mendoza was to spend the first afternoon on a wine tasting tour, then the second day out doing the high mountain tour of the Andes and finally to go parasailing on Sunday before leaving that evening. This plan still seemed good, although the cold was starting to bite and I wasn't too sure how bad it was going to get.

Being from Australia I like good red wines. Mendoza is renowned for a particular varietal, the Malbec. This didn't really ring any bells with me... in fact I was sure I'd never tasted it prior to arriving in Mendoza.

The Malbec in Argentina is a bit like the Shiraz in Australia. Both grapes aren't super-impressive back in France. In fact the Malbec variety is regarded as a bit of rubbish. Turns out that over in the hot, dry areas around Mendoza the grapes grow differently and produce a very drinkable red wine.

Let me just repeat that: very drinkable.

Mendoza itself is in a bit of a desert. There is one major river and that only runs during Spring and Summer. As a result the irrigation is done using canals and dams. Each farm is only permitted to draw water at certain times to ensure there is enough to go around.

However, with the high mountains all around, rocky barren waste where there was no irrigation, and these little canals all over the place, I did start to feel like I was back in Afghanistan... There were some areas where it could have been identical.

Mental note: perhaps we should explore setting up wineries in Afghanistan rather than saffron plantations. It might keep the French engaged in the NATO effort.

The afternoon tour was a trilingual tour. We had one Brasiliano, five English-speakers and a lot of Spanish-speakers. I have to be honest and say that the tours were a little bit underwhelming. However, this may also be because, once you have seem one winery's production line, well, really, there isn't much difference between them. It isn't like there are great secrets in the production of wine that are hidden from one winery to the next.

The wines on the other hand... very pleasant. The Malbec sort of sits between a Merlot and a Cabernet Sauvignon to my taste. Easy on the palate with some good red fruit flavours rather than the leathers and chocolates of cab sav and shiraz. If you like red wine and have the opportunity, have a glass...

Or two... hey, take a whole bottle.

I made an instinctive purchase of a bottle at the second winery, before realising that I had no room available in my bag to take it with me. That and the thought of wine-sodden clothing didn't really do it for me.

It suddenly became a dinner investment.

We also got to stop at a local olive oil factory. Mendoza's main source of employment is actually from the oil industry, but olive oil is a nice little tertiary industry after the petrochemicals and wines. Once upon a time they grew vines and olive trees together as a way of getting two crops from the same piece of ground (again, I'm getting flashbacks to the agricultural practices of Uruzgan). Unfortunately for the early vintners, it turns out the shade from the olive trees doesn't help in the correct maturation of the grapes.

Having seen the presses that they used in the first part of the Twentieth Century, all I can say is that I am very glad that i didn't have to clean up in an olive oil factory. They basically squashed olives on barbed discs that then needed to be cleaned. Anyway, got to taste various types of oil and oil-preserved vegetables (like sundried tomatoes) before heading back to the hostel.

That night there was yet another all you can eat barbecue inside the hostel.

As you may have guessed, red meat is popular in Argentina.

In Mendoza it was accompanied by all you can drink wine, which did seem a far better accompaniment than capirinhas.

Dinner had been meant to start at 9pm, but the woodfire barabecue was a little slow so it only really kicked off at about 9.30pm. I sat and ate with a couple of my roomies; two German girls who'd been travelling for a couple of months and enjoying South America. They also heavily recommended Berlin when I travel through Europe. Everyone I speak to has pushed Berlin, so I guess that I'll just have to fit it into my travel plans for the Continent.

It must make a change for the Germans to be invaded by hordes of foreign tourists rather than vice versa.

It was an early start the next morning; 7am pick up for the High Mountains Tour. Now I was pretty excited about this tour. You go up to a mountain pass that sits at 4000m asl, get to see Aconagua, the highest mountain outside the Himalayas, and also see a natural stone formation known as the Inca Bridge that is at 3500m. I was expecting stunning vistas and some very high mountain bridges.

So, the trip consisted of a lot of Argentines, another two Aussies (on their way home from a few years in the UK) and a couple of Germans. The tour tended to run as a Spanish announcement via microphone, then the Tour Guide would come down and explain the view/monument/river/lake/etc in English to each and everyone one of the non-Spanish speakers. She repeated herself to each of us, even if we were right next to each other. Just in case we were deaf I suppose.

The first hour or so was a little underwhelming, but we eventually started to climb into the Andes and leave the desert plains behind. Apparently having 4000m+ hills to one side creates a little bit of a rain shadow around Mendoza.

But once we were into the mountains we got to stop at the obligatory tourist stop. A little town outside of Mendoza, at about 1750m asl, called Uspallata was the site of our toilet break and morning tea. Wonderful hot chocolate.

From Upsallata we continued to climb into the Andes and eventually, after a quick stop at the happening ski resort (when there's snow) we arrived at the Inca Bridge.

I have to admit, I was a little disappointed.

Sure, I was expecting a thin natural rock bridge over a steep valley (think 200m deep). I may have been a little over-ambitious.

Instead we had a very large rock bridge, over a rather smaller river.

But the minerals from the natural springs in the vicinity had stained the rocks in very technicolour fashions.

Back in the early part of the Twentieth Century this area was renowned for the mineral springs. Given this water could change the colour of rock, I am not too sure why anyone would want to soak in it. But beauty is a harsh mistress and apparently mineral spas are good for you, even if you do end up looking like a Lego-man (or a Simpson character).

In keeping with health spas a resort was built. All that is left of it is the bathhouses themselves. They are the rather prison-like buildings you can see next to the Bridge. Not too sure I approve of the design for a spa, but maybe there was a bit more discipline enforced back in the early 1930s.

Anyway, an avalanche destroyed the entire resort back in the 1970s. The only building to survive was the church... someone might say miraculously unharmed. Not so lucky were the 11 guests who were killed. Maybe they should have been a little more religious...

So, having seen the Inca Bridge, negotiated the folk-art market that spontaneously had sprung up around it, we mounted up and headed to 3000m and the border of Parque Provincial Aconcagua. This park protects Aconcagua, a mountain that misses 7000m by all of about 40m. You need a permit to enter the park, so we got to stand on the border and take photos of the mountain. Well, most of us stood on the border, the Germans raced into the park in an effort to get the best possible picture of the mountain.

A point to note here. We were still 40km from the mountain. It was almost 4km higher than we were standing. Moving 20m closer or left or right didn't really effect the photo all that much.

I still can't really get the scale of this mountain into my head. And when you think that Everest is almost 2km higher... well, wait out for my entry after Everest Base Camp (I'm there in Novemeber, so the blog will probably be 2012 or so at this rate).

It was also starting to get a little cold at this altitude.

Having jumped back on to the (warm) bus, we were told (six times) that the next stop was at Christ de los Andes, the former border post between Chile and Argentina. It had a big statue of Christ there... hence the name. This was, literally, the highlight of the trip. We were due to hit 4000m and spend about half an hour at the site, before heading back to Mendoza.

So, leaving the new highway and border posts (3500m asl) we turned onto a circuitous, switchbacked, road that was barely wide enough for a car let alone a mini-bus. Oncoming traffic was a real game of chicken if there wasn't a handy widening.

Eventually, we arrive at the top of the mountain, and yes, there is a large statue of Christ.

There are also lots of horses.

Lots and lots of the horses.

And a lot of very rugged up guys and girls who sort of looked like horseriders if you could see beneath the layers of oilskin and polar fleece and snow goggles. (Yes - snow goggles)

It was a little disconcerting to say the least. I admit my main concern was how on earth you convince a horse to walk 500m up a reasonably steep mountain.

My second thought was: why?

I still don't know how they did it, but it seems they weren't the first. Not by a long way.

General San Martin, the liberator of Argentina and Chile (think of him as a Southern Simon Bolivar), marched his Army of Liberation over the Andes way back in the 1810s in order to liberate Chile.

They went by horse and, coincidentally, passed over the mountain pass where we currently were standing (whether on two legs or four).

Think of it as a Latin American version of Hannibal crossing the Alps to invade Rome.

Anyway that explained the horses. As for all the warm clothing... it was cold. Really cold. No real altitude sickness, just the realisation that I was glad I'd bought my sleeveless polar fleece but I really should have bought the long sleeved one and some gloves.

Oh, and shorts were not a good idea.

That really was the high point of the tour, and more than made up for the unfriendly dose of reality I got at Inca Bridge. The trip back home was spent talking to the other two Aussies, Tash and JB, and snoozing.

That night I had one of the best steaks I have ever eaten. It was at a place called Don Marcos and was cooked to perfection, or as close as you can get when it is about a quarter of a cow (and that was the small size). Went there with JB and Tash, plus some of the Aussies who were at their hostel. Good food, wine and company sent me off to bed very relaxed.

Of course, I woke the next day full of cold and not really up for anything. Unfortunately the parasailing was called off and I spent the time until my Bus trip back to Bs As booking a hostel for a night and then watching soccer on the tv in the hostel. It did sort of suck as the weather was gorgous and it would have been a lot more fun to be either parasailing or kicked back by the pool necking some beers.

However, in the interest of actually getting better, I decided that chilling might be a better deal in the long run.

Finally it was onto the coach (this time without MBA students) and off to Buenos Aires for the last time. I booked in to a single room at a hostel and slept there for about 18 hours before the flight down to Ushuaia and the start of the Patagonian adventure.

But that will have to wait for next time.

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Photos

Mendoza Wine Cellar
A very relaxing place to while away the time.

Mendoza canals.
Thankfully I avoided falling in these ones, despite having tasted the wine.

Malbec Grapes
Well, they were in a malbec-producing bodega.

San Martin's Bridge
The General built this bridge to assist in the crossing of the Andes. Of course, the water now doesn't flow under the bridge.

The Inca Bridge
Those prison cells are actually the health spas.

Me and Aconcagua
The mountain in the background in still 40km away and over 4000m higher than where I am standing.

Christ de Los Andes
The very large statue that stands at the border between Chile and Argentina.

Some Very Tired Horses
Those horsde had just climbed 500m to recreate San Martin's crossing. There were also a lot of very saddle-sore riders around.

The view at 4000m.
These are actually the old border posts. The new ones are 500m lower along a very new highway.

Comments

[Dan Wetstein]

I was sure that you'd develop a taste for Malbec
Howdy, Marc - I think I gave you a heads-up that you'd find the Argentinian Malbec to be "very agreeable." Glad you enjoyed it. I had almost eight cases of it when we returned ... somehow I think that would be a bit unmanageable for you to trek around with. We'll need to get you up to the top of a 14'r or two when you're here in May/June. That way you'll be able to exceed the 4000 m and have a view to go with it (something other than tired horses). I stopped in Tierra del Fuego on the way back from BA to Sydney to pick up Kath and the boys when we moved to Argentina. It was only a fuel stop for us before heading over the South Pole, but still pretty impressive in its starkness. Since you flew down, you may have found that the Argentinians still smoke on their home grown flights (although they will accommodate you with the "nonsmoking section.") Hope things turned out for you in Jujuy and that you got your card in Salta. Sounds truly exasperating. Stay safe; great postings. Dan