Judging a book by it's cover

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After what seemed like only a few hours sleep I was up at 7am to shower and pack. I had stayed up till the wee small hours last night booking my bus journeys with Green Toad Buses. Their website had made it easy to book buses, accommodation and excursions all in one. Although I'd gone to bed feeling a little stressed, I woke up feeling like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders and that I could now enjoy my trip, safe in the knowledge that my passage through South America had been sorted. I striped my bed sheets and after a quick shower I was checked out and on my way by 8am.

After a quick pitstop at the mini-market around the corner for breakfast and supplies, I hopped aboard the metro at Salvador to make my way to Universidad de Santiago and my waiting coach. I had read online when researching the coach trip that many companies didn't offer any meal as part of the journey and I couldn't go six-and-a-half hours without eating! I arrived at platform twenty-two with about ten minutes to spare, ready to join the queue of people waiting to board. The Tur-Bus coach was very spacious offering two different types of seating; Cama and Semi-Cama. I had gone for the later as not only was it much cheaper I hadn't exactly envisaged myself wanting to lay down flat for a breath taking journey through the Andes. I made myself comfy in my window seat and noticed that the guy on the opposite side of the isle from me was playing Celine Dion on loudspeaker through his phone... I really hoped that it wasn't going to be one of those coach trips.

We set off through Santiago and were soon on the highway picking up signs for 'Los Andes'. Thankfully my traveling companion across the way had turned his music off when we got going as the coaches co-pilot had put on 'Fast and Furious' - far better than having to listen to the warbling's of Celine Dion for the next six hours! We were each handed a small bag containing a cookie, a snack bar and a juice drink. Although hardly enough to choke a horse it was a welcome accompaniment to my cheese and ham sandwich. Within an hour we had hit the base of the mountains and had begun our accent. The views were spectacular, and that is pretty much all that can be said. Following winding roads through snow capped mountains, set against brilliant blue cloudless skies really can't be done justice - you'll just have to see the pictures. It was more like a scene from the original Italian Job and felt like it too, more so than it had done in Laos.

We soon reached boarder control and all left the bus to get our passports and papers stamped. It was a far more efficient process than I had seen anywhere else in the world so far, with a Chilean agent sat next to an Argentinian agent. The first scanned the passport, stamped it and handed it to his Argentinian colleague who did the same before handing it back to me. By far the easiest boarder crossing I had done so far.

Back on the road we were entertained by another movie as the coach descended the mountains into Argentina. The landscape changed rather dramatically, moving into rolling, open grass filled plains. The scenery remained much the same all the way to Mendoza with a few large canyons that had obviously housed wide rivers during the wet season. With an hour to go before we arrived at the Omnibus terminal the co-pilot had now resorted to keeping us entertained with 80's music videos, which many of us found highly entertaining. My only conclusion is that either Tur-Bus were a little out of touch with the music scene or they didn't have to pay any licence fee for playing them. Whichever it was, it has to be said that they provided a fantastic service and I hoped that I would be using them again on my way to another city.

I grabbed my bags and headed for the tourist information desk. This was the first time I hadn't been accosted by a taxi driver and I found it a little strange - not having to beat anyone away with a stick made for a pleasant change. I got directions to the hostel and made my way outside into the blistering sunshine. It was hot enough without making myself a sweaty mess by carrying my heavy pack fifteen blocks, so I decided to pester a taxi driver.

For just AR$12 (£1.80) I was soon outside La Cava Hostel, which really didn't look like much from the outside. Not wishing to judge a book by it's cover I rang the bell and was greeted by the half naked Juan who showed me in. He gave me a brief tour of the hostel which included the kitchen, common area and swimming pool: don't get excited... it was about two metres by three metres with two feet of water in it! Juan then showed me to my room where I could finally dump my bags and wipe the beads of sweat dribbling down my brow. I was handed a map and Juan explained where the hostel was as well as a few points of interest around Mendoza like the good places to eat and the more famous sights. He also been told that it was a long weekend in Mendoza so it may not be as busy or vibrant as it might normally.

With map in hand I went straight out to discover the city and what it had to offer. Juan had said that the walk into town would only take ten minutes and sure enough it did. I was soon at the pedestrianised Avenue Sarmiento, lined with cafés and shops, most of which were closed. The entire walk up Avenue San Martin had in fact been eerily quiet, almost like walking through a small village rather than a city. I made my way up towards Plaza Independencia, which served as the heart of the city. It was filled with children playing in the fountain, couples strolling and small stalls selling traditional handmade goods. It was a gloriously hot sunny day, but I had to eat and found a small restaurant back on Sarmiento.

None of the staff looked particularly interested in serving me as I sat down outside but nonetheless I waited as patiently as I could. Eventually one of the three waiters came over to me and began to speak almost incomprehensibly fast to me in Spanish. I politely waited until he had finished, thanked him and asked for the Bifé de Chorizo which Juan had told me was an Argentinian speciality. Unsure of what I had ordered I got comfy and waited for my meal, watching the few people still in the city lazily drift by. I was soon presented with a rather disappointing grilled steak accompanied by some equally plain parmentier potatoes. The steak was juicy enough and well cooked, but I was sorely let down by the expectations Juan had given me.

Full but not satisfied, I decided to continue walking down Avenue San Martin to take in more of the city. I found that as I passed the pedestrianised area there were more and more people out and about shopping the further I walked. It was nice to have found an area where I could see the life of the city and try and work out what made it tick. There were a surprising number of sports and shoe shops at this end of town and I wondered if there was in fact enough money in the city to sustain this number of shops. Yet everywhere I looked, families and individuals were carrying bags of all shapes and sizes either making the most of the weekend or preparing for Christmas.

I had begun to grow tired after my limited sleep from last night and decided to retire to my bed. I popped into the supermarket across from the hostel to pick up some steak, as I could only imaging that if there were cooking facilities the free breakfast wouldn't be substantial enough to keep me going tomorrow.

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